Jamming With My Idols

How many of us are lucky enough to meet our idols, our childhood idols to be specific, let alone know them all our lives and/or get to really communicate with them on their level as an equal?  Not many.  Not many of us is the answer.  I suppose it comes down to who we idolize, accessibility and just a ton of other factors.  Me?  I’m one of the lucky ones.

My idols were always close at hand.

Meeting them?  No problem.

Were they accessible?  Sometimes.

Joining their ranks?  Took a damn long time.

But I finally did it.  I got to share the stage with my idols.  In fact, I’ve been doing it a lot lately, it seems.

No, I didn’t time travel and lop off a few heads with Alexander the Great.  Ditto “no” on chilling with Wolverine or Link (Legend of Zelda); though, for a short time, I did think I might secretly be a wizard or a Dragon Lord until I realized I was just really really fucking wasted–and it was only that seven times.

Now I realize if these things didn’t go down you’re probably wondering who the hell else can you idolize?  Politicians?  Fuck that.  You’d be better off idolizing the Mario Brothers.  At least they don’t lie about their shroom usage and invasions of other countries in search of coin (besides, Night Elves are far cooler).  Well, then who, damnit, jas?!!

I’m a-gonna tell ya, pard.  Believe it or not, I idolized a country music band.  A long running, tight as a duck’s ass, badass group of mofo’s that played together for nearly twenty years.  I idolized the Clint Black Band.

Now they’ve had several incarnations over the years but the core remained the same for nearly two decades.  I grew up listening to those guys, practicing to their albums and studying them when I got to see them live.  I never took lessons on any instrument; but I sure as shit stole, borrowed and studied every lick I could master watching these cats all my young life.  They set the bar for what a band should sound like for me.  I measured every garage band I was ever in by their standards and never stopped trying to play as smooth and as rock solid as they did.  I was obviously disappointed a lot.  Those dudes have been accused of lip syncing, miming playing their instruments and using backing tracks more times than I can recount.  They were that tight.

But Jas… Why them?  Why not Zeppelin?  Or Rush?  Or Falco?

Don’t get me wrong… I studied them too (especially Falco–I mean, who DIDN’T pick up an instrument because of “Rock Me Amadeus?”)  Well, my friends, the answer is simple…  My father played in the Clint Black Band.

Makes a little more sense now, yeah?  But it wasn’t just proximity.  Those dudes can really play.  Besides recording a bunch of number 1 hit songs for Clint in the studio, they were also his band since before he had a record deal and before he was famous.  They stuck with him and were largely responsible for giving him that great sound that so many people loved then and now.  Clint will probably always be best known for his first album “Killin’ Time” and those boys outdid themselves on that album.  It’s a country classic and a pretty damn fine album, regardless of whether you’re a fan or not.

But I’m not here to give you a history lesson.  The album’s there if you want to check it out and Clint certainly needs no introduction from me.  No, I want to tell you about this past Sunday when I got to jam with three of the original five members.  It was the first time I’d ever been able to play with my mentor, Clint’s long time drummer, Dick Gay.

Now all name jokes aside (trust me, no one has funnier rips on the man’s name than the man himself) that dude is a fucking bad motherfucker on drums.  No flash, no frills, just rock steady, stone cold grooves.  That dude is so in the pocket they call him lint.  He literally got up and made every drummer there stop and just watch him play; and he did it without playing anything other than the groove and a tasty fill every now and again.

To say I idolized this dude is a fucking misnomer, almost a joke.  I cannibalized every single recording this man ever did and practiced to every track for hours and hours a day.  Between Dick, Frank Beard, Steve Gadd and Richie Hayward I was so immersed in the groove pocket that I literally walked in rhythm–the sandworms on Arrakis would’ve munched my grooving ass in less time than most hardcore songs.  I must have played “Put Yourself In My Shoes” ten thousand times–and I’m probably not far off with that number.

See, the thing is, I wasn’t always a singer or a guitar player–though, I’ve been a songwriter since I was fourteen.  I started out on drums when I was four years old.  It wasn’t too long after that dad started playing with Clint; so as a very young little drummer (and a rather poor one at that) I didn’t have a lot of ways to pick up new information that I could readily understand and translate into something that I could reproduce.  I’m a very visual learner and I don’t really have to be taught, per se, but it helps for someone to demonstrate, even if they don’t realize they’re demonstrating.  With most things, if I see someone do it, I can at least approximate.  It took me awhile to be able to just hear it and be able to play it–that came after building a more solid foundation, and that’s where Mr. Gay became my mentor.

I knew all the songs by heart because my mom jammed her some Clint Black around the hizzie.  I knew all the words, knew all the structures; but I didn’t necessarily (at first) grasp how to put it into play–no puns here, bitches.  So when we’d go to a show and/or a soundcheck, I’d just stand to the side and watch how Dick played all the songs.  The great thing was, if you watched them live, you might as well have been listening to the album.  Those dudes played extremely well together and Clint was very much of the mind (at the time) to reproduce his live shows very similarly to his albums.  It was the perfect way for me to learn and learn I did.  I practiced his stuff so much and had it so clocked that I was able/allowed to sit in with the band while they were soundchecking before a show.  I was about nine or ten years old.  The coolest part was that some of the stage workers and sound guys didn’t even realize Dick wasn’t playing.  I couldn’t have been happier about it.

But I never thought I’d ever actually get to play WITH him–Clint didn’t use two drummers and that’s not normally something that gets to happen very much.  Most country acts don’t emulate the Allman Brothers, ya feel me?  Enter my drummer Ed Simpson and his lovely wife Kay.

Ed and Kay put on a house party/show every year and invite every damn awesome musician they can find to come and jam, drink and eat until everyone is falling over with fatigue.  As Ed and I had only recently met and started playing music together, this was my first year going.  Here’s where it’s cool…

Ed, besides being a phenomenally talented drummer, is also a phenomenally talented audio engineer and road manager.  He’s worked with Warren Haynes and Gov’t Mule, The Screaming Cheetah Wheelies, The Dave Matthews Band, Hole and a shitload more.  Well, back in the day, ole Brother Ed also did some work with Clint and the gang.  True story:  back then, Ed and my father talked about my father’s little son who played drums and was “amazing for a little guy who can barely reach the kick drum pedal.”  Flattered, obviously, but the funny thing is, who the fuck would’ve ever thought Ed would end up playing for me?  Small, wild, cool world.

So anyway, Ed always invites most of the Clint Black band to come to the party/jam and they nearly always come.  There I was, playing my music in front of all my idols.  Better yet, they couldn’t have been cooler and more into what I was doing.  Each one took the time to hang out and tell me how great they thought my stuff was and were all amazingly complimentary of my voice and songs.  It was a great day; but that even the half of it.

There were a number of amazing musicians at this shindig and we all took turns playing our stuff and jamming with each other.  Ed, being a drummer and inviting no less than five great drummers, had the foresight to set up two kits.  When Mississippi Millie (a crazy talented Delta blues singer and now a great friend) got up to tear it up with her set, Dick got up to play with her.  After he’d run a track with my Bro and sometimes drummer Tim Thurber (another amazing player) Dick yelled “where’s Jas?”

You better believe my ass flew over to the other drum set and we rocked out a couple tunes together.  It was a dream come true.  I got to play with the guy who taught me more about drums just by answering a few questions and letting a pesky little kid hang around during soundcheck than highschool band and college band combined.  It was really a great day.

But the cool thing was, it didn’t end there.  Nope.

I have two more idols from that band.  The first, you already know if you know anything about me or dig my music.  You’ve heard his mighty-ass bass tone all over nearly every single track on both my albums–though, at the time of this writing, only one has been released.  “Working On My Soul,” my first album, contains no less than thirteen out of eighteen tracks that feature his playing–a couple I played bass myself and the others don’t have bass.  On my new EP “Tributaries,” he played on all the tracks (scheduled to release February 28th, 2012–PRESALE COMING SOON!!!  GO TO WWW.JASPATRICK.COM FOR DETAILS!)

I, of course, speak of the great Jake Willemain.

Jake is one of those bass players that simply cannot play out of time or out of the pocket.  If you speed up, he’s right there with you.  He’s so intuitively in time and in the groove that I sometimes fuck with the tempo just to see what happens… What happens is he makes you sound like you’re some sort of classical music conductor-maestro that has mastered the art of fluid timing.  Yes, he’s that fucking good.  But it doesn’t stop there, oh no–he also has tone for days and is as tasteful a musician as I have ever known.  Don’t get it twisted, he can fill any style, song or approach with as much or as little as anyone could want; but the beauty is he just always seems to augment rather than cover or overplay any groove.  I know, I know… I make him sound like a superman or some shit.  If I am, I apologize.  Superman couldn’t touch this fucking guy on bass.  Respect.

Now this is where the cool factor goes right the fuck off the chart, booboo.  Not only did I get to play with Jake, but I also got to rehearse with Jake a couple days prior to the party.  Jake and my main brosephus Ed got together and reached out to me to see about playing some of my shit at the party.  What’s cooler than that, amirite?  Simmer down now, chillen’s and let me tell you what’s cooler.  Jake is also in my band.

I’ve formed a new band.  For now, we’re calling it the Jas Patrick Trio and we’re booking shows as I type this–much love to Mac and Vicki for booking the shows… I couldn’t do it without you guys and I love you both.  The shows will be coming soon to a town geographically feasibly visited within a day’s driving distance from Nashville.  Awww yeah.  We’re coming to you, boo.  So make sure you keep an eye on my facebook and my website for shows in your town.

Scuse me whilst I bust a move.

Thank you.

Moving on…

Yeah man, I couldn’t be more fucking stoked.  I, little Jas, get to play with two cats who are two of the best players I have ever met and are most definitely two of the nicest, coolest and most easy going dudes I know.  I couldn’t be happier or more excited.  Oh, and wait till you hear us.  We had one hour and half rehearsal and we absolutely killed it at the party.  Everyone was jamming out, man.  It was really something.

We played my new EP in its entirety and gave the folks there a nice preview of what’s to come; but the coolest part is yet to be told…

On my new EP “Tributaries” I have a song that’s kind of a Latin, rock, Soul (vocal) burner–you guys know me and my world influences.  The cool thing is that it’s not obscure or “odd” at all!  It’s actually totally accessible and it will definitely get your ass moving.  The folks at the party loved it.  Everyone who has heard it loves it.  Think of a stone cold Latin groove like “Oye Como Va;” either Santana or Tito Puente–either will be fine.  Now, put a huge, straight, groove-rock beat over the very syncopated Latin groove.  Then, on the chorus, double the speed and feel and rock that shit out.  That would give you an idea of my song “Call It Home.”

In the studio on “Call It Home,” I played a ton of percussion–mostly Latin:  Timbale, guiro, claves, cowbell, shaker, congas and so on and so forth.  Well, for the party, I brought my djembe because I knew there would be a ton of drummers there and I wanted to make sure we could get some sick rhythm section shit happening.  This will come into play in a moment…

When I first got up to play, Ed and Kay asked me to play some old stuff, new stuff, whatever I wanted on my acoustic and just jam solo (Kay, Ed, I love you guys–thank you a million times over for all the support and friendship and encouragement; you guys are true friends and I can’t tell you enough how glad I am that we’re able to work together to make this music).  So, solo acoustic was the name of the game for a few tunes and the crowd couldn’t have been cooler–really made your brother Jas feel great and welcome.

After I had played a short-ish set, it was time for Ed and Jake to join me to play my new EP.  We rocked out the first couple of songs and the crowd was loving us.  Then we kicked off “Call It Home.”  As we’re playing, I start hearing this rocking djembe part and I figured Tim or another drummer had got up and just had some uncanny sense to know exactly what I played on the album.  I opened my eyes and looked over and lo and behold, there was my first idol.  The man who inspired me to play music and who has helped me grow into the musician I am today.  Hell, he STILL helps me keep the shit real and demand the best of myself.

People, I tell you, I turned around to see who the hell could possibly know my music which is unreleased and unknown to all but a few and looked my father square in the eye.  He had got up and was playing the conga line to my song which he could have only possibly heard a few times–and he was fucking KILLING it.  Just nailing it, man.  It was awesome.

I looked over at Jake and Ed and they were grinning and digging it.  I tell you, people… I could’ve have grooved that song for twenty minutes if I had had the foresight to write that song in a jam band style.  It just floored me.

Now, my dad is a remarkable steel guitar, dobro, lap steel, melobar and slide player–seriously one of the finest steel guitar players on the planet.  The man pisses excellence in tone, taste, style and melody.  I have never heard him play out of tune (a REAL fucking accomplishment for any fretless instrument, let alone steel guitar) and he is factually one of the only steel guitar players I’ve ever heard utilize the instrument for something other than the broke-dick, cry in your beer, whine fest in which it is usually put to practice.  No no.  This cat turned steel guitar into a fucking rock god’s wet dream.  You should hear him wail on that thing with some overdrive.  No faking the funk with this cat, no sir.

But the fact of the matter is, he’s a middling drummer at best.  The graveyard is full of middling drummers (thanks for the paraphrase HBO’s “Rome”).  No disrespect; but Pop ain’t no drummer.  Great timing and feel does not a drummer make if the “drummer” in question ain’t no drummer.  Yet, there he stood!  Fucking rocking the djembe like he was fresh out of a drum circle!  Couldn’t believe it, man.  So fucking cool…

Well, the night wore on and the jams got long and obscure and silly and just fantastic.  A good time was had by all and no one more psyched than yer ole buddy jas.  I haven’t had a better day in a long time.  It was truly a day I’ll always remember.

Not only did I get to stand on the same stage as my idols; but they also acknowledged my step into their realm.  I wasn’t just a little kid pulling their shirttails saying, “Hey Spike, Hey Spike!”  I was one of them.  I was a player.  The real deal.

Hell, if Clint would ever retire I’d hire the whole lot of them!  Just kidding, Clint, man.  If you would’ve been there, I would’ve written about getting to jam with four of my idols instead of just three.  But man, a full house is a full house regardless of whether you have kings or aces.

Insane love and respect and gratitude to Ed, Kay, Jake, Dad, Dick and all the other great players with whom I got to jam on Sunday.  You’ve got a fan in me and I thank you all for making this cat realize how loved he really is.

And, of course, if you’re reading this… Thank YOU for taking the time to read my words and make sure you get your free music–the link is in the top right hand corner of this blog or my website:  www.jaspatrick.com

I hope to play for you all soon and make sure to share this and my music with your friends and families and I hope you get to have a similar experience in your lives.  There’s never enough happiness to go around and I’m glad to be sharing mine with you.  Thank you for listening.