FTV: No Shows

 

     For the record, I hate ‘no shows’.  You know, when a band decides to cancel a show for some reason.  I have no problem if it happens because someone falls ill or is having a family emergency.  Canceling a show due to a hangnail or slow ticket sales is another thing altogether.  While a ‘no show’ rankles me a bit, I do like to get my hair cut.  If you just scratched your head and asked yourself, “Huh?  What in the world connects these two subjects?” let me explain.  The last time Loraine was giving me a trim, we started talking about bands and music, as we always do.  One of the topics  we traded stories about this time around was bands that don’t show up.

     Lorraine is a veritable encyclopedia of stories about bands and music.  If you go through the FTV archives (see www.woas-fm.org), you will find stories about many of the shows I have seen over the years.  If my entire concert history could be held in a five gallon bucket, Loraine’s story archive would overflow a fifty gallon drum.  Not only has she been to a lot more concerts than I have, she has the ability to recall a lot of the details for many of them.  Instead of asking her, “Have you seen this band?” I should just ask her, “When and where did you see this band?”

     We started our latest ‘talking music session’ discussing her favorite band, Boston.  This led us to a spinoff band fronted by former Boston members called Orion the Hunter.  Guitarist Barry Goodreau formed OTH in the mid 1980s and had an MTV hit with the song So You Ran.  Boston singer Brad Delp contributed backing vocals to this project while future Boston lead singer Fran Cosmo added guitar and lead vocals.  Goodreau and Delp would get together again in the 1990s with a new line up called Return To Zero.  It was no surprise to either of us that both Lorraine and I have a solid collection of Boston and Boston spinoff band albums in our collections.  The discussion moved on to ‘no shows’ when Lorraine mentioned she had traveled to Milwaukee to see Boston at the Summerfest grounds.  When they pulled in, they were alarmed that there was absolutely nobody there.   They turned around and completed their round trip home after seeing nothing.

     Upon their return, she called the ticket brokers for a refund and got a surprising reaction:  “What?  What do you mean they didn’t show up?”  Lorrain’s party did indeed get their $45 tickets refunded, but minus a two dollar handling fee.  Why did this show get canceled and how is it even the ticket sellers had no idea it had been canceled?  It is a mystery with no answer. Lorraine didn’t miss out on seeing her favorite band, however, as she was able to catch an outdoor Boston show at a later time.  As she described it, “It was pouring rain, we had on our rain gear and mud boots, and we sang every song at the top of our lungs.” 

     I shared my two ‘no show’ experiences but I was luckier – neither involved a round trip to Milwaukee or the disappointment of seeing no show at all.  The first happened in 1970 when I had asked a girl if she would like to see the Four Seasons at Hedgecock Field House on the Northern Michigan University campus.  We arranged a double date with my buddy Jim and his girl Deb.  I even convinced the folks this would be a good time for me to use mom’s Chevy Caprice for the evening.  All was well until it was announced that the Four Seasons had cancelled and were replaced on the bill by Little Anthony and the Imperials.  As Jim reminded me recently, the Four Seasons were snowed in on the East Coast and could not fly out.  Little Anthony and the Imperials were apparently in Detroit and were booked on short notice (possibly the day before or day of the show) but of course, we knew none of this when we got to the Field House.

     I do not recall any mention of an opening act for the Seasons, but we arrived in time to hear the MC introduce a band called The Ravelles.  I imagine Little Anthony cost less to fill the bill than the Seasons so perhaps they used the extra to book the Ravelles.  This is pure speculation on my part – they very well could have been on the bill but they weren’t mentioned on the posters.  I did not know until later that the Ravelles were an Upper Peninsula band.  They resembled Johnny Maestro and the Brooklyn Bridge both in the size of the band and the type of music they played.  I was really impressed by their version of George Harrison’s While My Guitar Gently Weeps.  During the change over to the headliner’s set, we agreed the Ravelles had already been  well worth the price of admission. 

     The main event was supposed to start at 8:00 pm and Jim recalled the crowd was getting restless when nothing was happening by 8:20.  The MC came out and explained the situation and offered a refund to anyone who wanted to leave.  Neither of us remember a stampede toward the exits but it was still a strange way to introduce the main act.  Imagine you are Little Anthony and you are brought on stage right after an announcement like that.  Showman that he was, Little Anthony came out and gave everybody a good natured poke in the ribs.  How?  They opened the show with a medley of Four Season songs.  What a stroke of genius! 

     What I remembered from their radio play were a couple of the Imperials’ better known tracks.  One was the infectious Shimmy Shimmy Koko Bop and the other was their version of Going Out of My Head mashed up with Hurt So Bad.  Their more famous tracks were kept in reserve for late in their set, but everything that came off the stage leading up to their familiar hits was great.  A small back up band of organ, bass, and drums gave them solid backing and the harmonies were flawless.  A lanky guy with dark shades (perhaps the stage manager?) hopped up by the drummer’s kit.  There he gyrated and danced and played the tambourine on a few uptempo tracks.  He was never introduced and the band seemed to take little notice of their bonus sideshow.  Little Anthony was certainly a seasoned performer and we were not disappointed at all when we didn’t get to see the Four Seasons.

     My second ‘no show’ had potential to be a bigger disappointment than not seeing the Four Seasons.  Having never seen Deep Purple live, I was excited to see that Rainbow was coming to Lakeview Arena in Marquette.  I didn’t know much about them but the fact that it was ex-Purple axe slinger Ritchie Blackmore’s band made this a no-brainer show for me to see.  I thought it was a bonus because the opening act scheduled was Blue Oyster Cult whom I had gotten to like a lot after seeing them at Lakeview a few years earlier.

     The first time I saw BOC was in the spring of 1976.  REO Speedwagon was the opening act (and a great opening act they were).  I took note that their albums would be on my next record store stop.  I knew nothing about the band but that never stopped me from going to see an act I was not familiar with.  My folks were renting the house they owned next to their Summit Street house to a young Michigan State Trooper and his wife.  Earlier on the day of the show, Dad, Mark (the Trooper) and I were having coffee when he said, “I had a strange traffic stop today.  Some guy was driving a rental car down US 41 like a bat out of hell.  When I stopped him, the paperwork said the car had been rented by Blue Oyster Cult.  What in the heck is a Blue Oyster Cult?”  I had a lot of fun teasing Mark for never having heard of them.  I also had to admit that I had a ticket to their show and didn’t have a clue what to expect.

     Michael Bryan Murphy was the lead vocalist in REO at that time and I took away a couple of things about them.  First, Murphy had a lion’s mane of curly red hair that made him stand out from the rest of the band.  Secondly, drummer Alan Gratzer had the shiniest cymbals on his kit that I had ever seen.  I had never seen a drummer wearing what looked like golf gloves while he played, so that was another first.  Lastly, guitarist Gary Richrath had all the earmarks of being a star in the making.  It was a lot to take in even before the headliners and I thoroughly enjoyed REO’s opening salvo.

     Blue Oyster Cult hit the stage with their usual introduction:  “Oh your feet or on your knees – Blue Oyster Cult!”  BOC performed a set of songs I had absolutely no familiarity with.  Just the same, it was an enjoyable performance incorporating a light show, a bit of pyro, and a few gimmicks (like singer Eric Bloom shooting what looked like Roman candles over the crowd).  Again, I thought, “More albums I need to collect before I head back to Ontonagon.”  BOC seemed happy with the crowd reaction and at one point, Bloom stepped up to acknowledge the crowd saying, “Man, we have to get out of New York more often!”  The comment generated a loud roar of approval.  I had this show in the back of my mind when I saw they were opening for Rainbow, but I was still excited to see Blackmore and company.

     Before BOC hit the stage, they announced that, “Due to circumstances beyond their control, Rainbow will not be able to perform tonight.  Blue Oyster Cult will perform two sets instead.”

I was disappointed, but not surprised as Blackmore had a reputation for cancelling shows.  Getting to see two sets of BOC was a fair trade and by now, I was more familiar with their music after listening to their double live album and the last couple of studio records.  The only disappointment from this show was the lack of effects used.  As the opener, they would not have travelled with the number of lights and other stage props they would  normally employ as the headliner.  Once they got rolling, it didn’t really matter because the music they pumped out more than made up for the lack of effects.

     Not all of the effects were left behind.  Their latest album had been released a short time before they came back to Marquette.  The track that was getting the most attention on the radio was Godzilla.  The crowd reacted with a predictable roar when the Godzilla riff started and the whole room was rocking and rolling through the first half of the song.  All of a sudden, everything went black – the stage, the arena, everything.  My first thought was, “Oh great, they blew the power box in the arena.”  I was eyeing the closest exit sign (just in case) when drummer Albert Bouchard’s drum solo began rumbling through the pitch black arena.  Suddenly, a bank of strobe lights lit up the drummer kit and there was Godzilla himself bashing the drums.  

     Okay, it was Albert with a massive Godzilla head on and in the strobe lights, he resembled the jerky movements one sees in the old Japanese movies featuring an actor in a rubbery Godzilla suit.  It wasn’t the greatest drum solo (not Albert’s fault – imagine playing the drums with a gigantic Godzilla head resting on your shoulders), but the effect was memorable.  Near the end, there was another shorter blackout and when the Godzilla riff returned, Albert’s dinosaur head was gone.  I never did get a chance to see Rainbow but I was not disappointed with either of my ‘no show’ concerts.

     There was one other ‘no show’ we experienced with my third band, Sledgehammer but we were actually happy to miss this one.  We had been offered two weekend gigs at a lounge in Negaunee, but with conditions.  To get the second weekend, we had to act as the back up band for a touring solo musician.  The deal was supposed to work like this; we would do a set, back up the solo guy for a set, do another set of our own, and then back the solo guy one more time.  The other three nights we would be on our own.  We actually thought Barry was kidding when he told us the solo guy was Tiny Tim (yes, Tiny Tim of TipToe Through the Tulips fame).  

     We discussed this a long time with our original reaction being, “What?  Play backup band for freaking Tiny Tim?”  In the end, the lure of having four paid nights began to work on our sense of professionalism (“Hmm, it would be four paid nights…we are a versatile band and we could do this…who knows, he might be a regular guy who only plays Tiny Tim as his gig,” etc etc).  By the end of the week, we told Barry to go ahead and book the job.  At the next rehearsal, he had some bad news – Tiny Tim canceled the gig.  We were more relieved than disappointed because no matter how much we rationalized doing this job, we never really convinced ourselves it would have been a good idea.  We later found out that TT had been in a car accident in Pennsylvania that resulted in the death of one of his traveling companions.

     The biggest cancellation that could have been would probably have been The Doors.  They were riding high in spite of Ed Sullivan banning them from his show after one appearance.  The network executives thought they had convinced the band to not sing the word ‘higher’ in their hit Light My Fire, but Jim Morrison had other ideas.  Guitarist Robbie Krieger wrote the song and he was okay with changing one word but when they got to that point, Morrison looked right into the camera and sang the forbidden word.  Surviving members of the band (drummer John Densmore and Krieger) still talk about the up and down career they had with the unpredictable Morrison.  He could be really good at some shows and really cringe worthy at others.  NMU really wanted to book them for a concert but not once his legal troubles started after a Florida concert.  Morrison was accused of exposing himself on stage (concert footage would later prove he did not) but the riotous atmosphere that show created killed a lot of their bookings and NMU never tried to book the band.

      Steel guitar player David Pearlman appeared in Ontonagon with Lindsay Tomasic’s band Trees.  He told the story of the ultimate ‘no show’ he experienced in his career.  He was in Merle Haggard’s band during a period when he, like Jim Morrison, was also quite unpredictable.  Some nights he was fine and others he was under the influence enough to give what Dave called “a ragged performance.”  One night at a club in the midwest, Haggard stumbled into the club all but knocking over tables and chairs to get to the stage.  By the time he got there, the band members were exchanging raised eyebrow looks that said, “Oh boy, now what?”  Merle strapped on his guitar and played a nearly flawless show.  After the last number, he staggered out of the club and disappeared for several months.  The tour ended there and a couple of months of shows were canceled.  In the end, Haggard resurfaced very much alive (rumors of his death were fairly rampant by then) and resumed his career without offering any explanation for his vanishing act.

     Thank you again to Lorraine for sharing her music tales.  I am already looking forward to hearing more of her adventures the next time I need a trim. 

Top Piece Video:  Here is Lorraine’s favorite band live at Giants Stadium in 1979!