And, You Think Your Band Is Broke???

What you are about to read, you may not believe, and
may feel that the story is made up. But, I swear that it
is entirely true.

And, the next time you are feeling sorry for you or your
band not having enough money, these truths about my
own first band back in 1976 may make you realize just
how financially solvent and rich you already are:
______________________________________________

"THE LIGHTS OF SOUL"

Though we would experience dark days, we had the
audacity to name our band "The Lights Of Soul." We
were so poor that, at one point, we seriously considered
renaming it "The Welfare Band" (which was much more
appropriate) in hopes that our community would feel so
sorry for us that they would put dollar bills in our tip jar
instead of simply tossing us loose change. Actually, on
second thought, we never had a tip jar because we
couldn't afford that either. If memory serves, our "tip jar"
was a Lays potato chip bag propped up by two ice cream
popsicle sticks.

OUR MEMBERS & TOP-OF-THE-LINE EQUIPMENT

I began the band with a large number of players...
something like 20+ members (we were into Earth, Wind
& Fire at the time and wanted a big Funk sound). Have
you ever heard of former NFL Dallas Cowboy Eugene
Lockhart? Well, I grew up with him and he began playing
trombone in my band. I later kicked him and another
band member out for wrestling after they broke our
manager's couch.

Two brothers played in my first band...Larry Whitting
(bass) and Doug Whitting (keyboard). Larry played an
awful looking hollowbox bass, and even though I was not
yet a bass player (I was playing trumpet at the time in the
high school band), I had to show Larry every single note
to every song. Because, not only was he completely
clueless regarding music, he was also tone deaf (or, was
it tone death?). Actually, both phrases applied to Larry.

Well, after about 999 times of showing him songs, I
became so frustrated, I decided to relieve Larry of his
bass-playing duties, and I took up playing the bass
myself. As we could not afford a professional bass, my
manager ordered one out of the Sears & Roebuck catalog.
Those S&R catalogs were so large, I am told that some
people actually went hunting with them during deer
season.

To use this book as a weapon and save wear and tear
on your rifle and save ammunition at the same time, all
you needed to do was climb a tree with it, remain quiet,
and await an unfortunate deer to arrive under your tree
then, (((((BAM))))). You dropped it on his head and took
him out. And, best of all, no bloody mess to clean up
out of the truck cab either.

I believe the new bass guitar, possibly, broke our
manager's bank account that week with its hefty $49.95
price tag (plus tax). Talk about splurging!

Oh, yeah...after breaking a couple of strings one night, I
played the bass for several weeks with only two strings
on it because we could not afford to buy a whole set. As
you can imagine, my hands/arms were doing double time
and, afterward, my forearms were so swollen, they would
have made Popeye jealous.

If you are a bass player, have you ever tried playing 4
notes' worth of music on only 2 strings all night? No, I
didn't think so, because you are smarter than that.

But, the positive side of that experience, is that when
people watched me doing it, they thought that I had
suddenly become a very fast-playing bass player in
record time, even though they didn't follow me home to
see me soak my painful arms in a tub of Epsom Salt
afterward.

"Wow! Kenny, you can play REALLY fast now! How did
you learn to do that so quickly? Can you show me?"

Uh, let me think about that for a minute...NO!

In fact, I have major arthritic pain in both my wrists as a
result of this.

Now, about Larry's brother, Doug. Lordy, mercy. Doug's
keyboard couldn't even be called a real keyboard. It
looked like some accordion that had been refused access
to the piano family reunion picnic. It was so small, that
Doug would sit it on his knees in his attempts to play it.
It was so small that a single finger, almost always, and
unintentionally, played two notes simultaneously.

It sounded worse than those cheap 1980s Casios...yeah,
you know the ones...those little white ones that, in order
to hear them, you not only needed to plug them into a
PA system, but you also needed to mic the keyboard so
the audience could actually hear your fingers tapping the
keyboard and validate that you were actually playing it
and that you weren't pulling a "Milli Vanilli."

Well, with our image to think of, this soon became too
much, and I asked Doug to join Larry in the
unemployment line, and also because he could never
seem to get those extremely difficult three-note major
chords down correctly. And I was terrified that asking
him to venture into the areas of Dominant 7th chords,
or worse, 9th or 11th inversions would prove to be an
impossibility and finally send him over the edge. We
were now sans a piano, but for the better. Come to
think of it, I don't believe the little keyboard could even
make 7th chords.

Our drummer, Reginald Smith, is one of my closest
friends to this day (known him since Kindergarten). But
let me tell you about his drum kit, or more accurately,
his "partial" drum kit. Actually, Reg couldn't afford the
entire kit, so he just had drums (and, sometimes, sticks).
The drum set that Reg played had no ride or crash
cymbals. But worst of all, it had a kick pedal that only
functioned part of the time...that is, when the adjustment
screw wasn't popping out, flying halfway across the room,
and almost putting out one of the other band members'
eye.

In fact, the kick pedal became so bad for repair, that
Reg finally decided to toss it entirely. But, whenever we
were on a good roll, he would, believe it or not folks, kick
the drum with his toe. I believe I even recall him doing a
fast double kick once when the spirit moved him to do
so in what would have normally been a double roll with a
real drum set. A positive side effect, however, was his
ability to quickly build his thigh and calf muscles, even
if there was the occasional "charlie horse" as a downside.

Our first gig was, literally, in a cow pasture, complete
with cows (only in Texas). To add insult to injury, we
were encased in chicken wire in case the audience got
ticked off at our playing for whatever reason, and decided
to kindly and collectively toss their beer bottles our way
so as not to litter the pasture. After all, you can't have
valuable cattle stepping on glass, can you?

However, the chicken wire encasement did not deter a
drunk toothless, snuff-dipping woman from reaching
through the wire, grabbing Cedric Reagans, our lead
singer, by his shirt collar when he got too close to the
fencing, then attempting to force her tongue down his
throat as he sang a rendition of Barry White's "Can't Get
Enough Of Your Love, Babe." Ooooh...just the sordid
memory of the scene still chills by bones 32 year later.

Our "PA System" (yeah, right). We also could not
afford a real PA system, let alone it being from a
professional quality line. So, we had what I still
consider an ingenious idea to this day. We decided to
take the drawers out of a bedroom dresser, then mount
a 15-inch speaker to its stationary brace.

Our manager then ran an electrical wire back to one of
the guitar amps. Lastly, we took a black cloth and
covered the entire dresser so that it appeared that we
were on the rise financially and could now afford some
serious new equipment. Our manager is the only human
being that I have ever seen hook up a sparkling electrical
wire without the hint of flinch.

Once when our manager was late for rehearsal, to get
rehearsal started, a couple of our foolish members
bravely tried to hook the naked electrical wires up as
they had seen our manager do, but were knocked across
the room by heavy voltage. No one ever tried that again.
As for our homemade PA system, no one was ever the
wiser, and several people said our sound improved. ;-(

Our lead singer would, on occasion, also forget the lyrics
to the songs. He would then look around at us for either
moral support, guidance, or telepathy (I never figured out
which he was seeking). In any event, we offered neither
and were of no consolation in his sudden plight.

During these wonderful special occasions, I would take
the liberty and opportunity of seeking out shelter via a
convenient part of the curtain to hide behind if we were
fortunate enough to be gracing a stage until Cedric's
Alzheimer's cleared up and he had returned to normal
and recalled the lyrics. If we were not onstage, as any
smart and fast-thinking ostrich does, I would simply
drop my head, stare at the floor, and pretend I was on a
battlefield in a distant part of Okinawa.

I cannot, in all honesty, talk about the other members
without revealing to you a personal foul-up of my own.
One of our gigs was playing for a high school FFA
(Future Farmers of America) meeting. Well, in my
excitement and haste, I forgot to tune my bass, and
when we started playing, it was obvious (to me) that
my bass was tuned a whole step high.

In denial, and not able to face my mistake of having not
tuned it beforehand, and being the only member in the
band who actually read music (and was well respected
for such), I staunchly informed the band that never in all
my life had I heard an entire band be out of tune, even
the drummer, on a song and that they really needed to
strongly consider getting some serious musical training
before it was too late.

The incredible thing is, they believed my lie, and to this
day I cannot bring myself to tell them the fault was
entirely my own. Actually, I dare not tell them now, as
people today are so short-tempered and quick to become
irate and upset without just cause.

Our manager, although good-hearted and well-meaning,
was almost as poor as we were. Johnny had a Chevy
that we used to take some of the band members home.
Actually, what the car was, was a smoking death-trap
that, fortunately, never killed any of us, although it very
much tried doing so. We did, however, suffer severe
whiplash on occasion, and here is how...

GOING HOME

As I said, after rehearsal we had to take some members
home, and the guitarist lived about 15 miles out in the
woods. There were 45-degree curves like nobody's
business, and the car's brakes were in such need of
repair that, when you engaged them, the car would jerk
at a 45-degree angle to the right.

Naturally, to prepare for and adjust to this experience
each time meant jerking the steering wheel back to the
left at a 90-degree angle as you simultaneously engaged
the brakes, just so the car would appear to remain
straight to any friendly, safety-minded, well-meaning
police officers hell-bent on issuing a moving violation
traffic citation.

Sometimes, however, we would forget that the car was
jerk-able and, hence, this is when we would experience
the nice soothing pain that only whiplash can bring.
After having dealt with this on more than a few occasions,
I was already well-trained by the time I entered the army
and drove a tank the first time. For maneuvering the
tank, compared to the 4-wheel mobile deathtrap, was a
cakewalk, and fellow soldiers marveled at how fast I
grasped the throttle concept, of which I have the
"Deathmobile" to thank for.

HOW YA FEELIN' NOW?

So, I'm betting that right about now, your financial
situation is starting to look a whole lot better to you,
isn't it?
_______________________________________________

Editor's Note: The above story is entirely and completely
factual, with no deviations. Also, no animals were harmed
in any of the preceding events, nor during the writing of this
article as a result of utter frustration.
_______________________________________________

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