Omaha Rainbow : Issue 22

Chris Whelan - interviewed by Peter O'Brien

I was born in Colorado.  Lived there all my life till I was about 16.  Started playing bass when I was 5 - when I was 10 or 11 I knew that was what I was into.  School wasn't getting me off at all.  I was playing football and that was the only other choice, the only other thing I enjoyed, so by the time I was 18 it was like a toss of the coin what I wanted to do.

When I was in high school I had my own band playing sock hops and that kind of thing before the football game, and then playing the dance after the game.  Then, when I was in 11th grade, this touring band offered me a gig.  I was 16 or 17.  It was the Phil Thomas Show - all had the same kind of jackets and ties - touring the Ramada Inns through Texas.  My folks always thought 'Well, it's nice that he plays an instrument, but that doesn't count.  You can't make a living at that.'  So my dad, of course, wanted me to play professional football.  I packed my bag and left - put a note on the table - because there was no talking to them.  I quit school in 11th grade and over in the States if you don't have a high school diploma they all go, 'You're a moron, an idiot, you'll never get to work if this thing falls through.'  But when you're 16 years old you don't give a shit.

So I left on the road and was making 175 bucks a week, all expenses - the rooms and meals - and my mum was just flipped out, tears, the whole number.  My mum and I had got along great.  I remember I sent 150 dollars a week back to her so it would look like I was making so much money this was extra, I didn't need it.  I was living on 25 bucks a week for cigarettes and things like that.

All through that period of time when I was 16, 17, 18 I would send the money back.  We would be going through Texas and the South, I was literally living in hotel rooms with no home to go back to - it was all hotels.  My mum passed away about four years ago.  I was reading through the will and all of a sudden there was this little safe deposit key.  She knew all the time...every time she got a cheque she'd put it in the safe deposit box.  I went and opened it and there was, like, sixteen thousand dollars in there and she's saying, "You didn't fool me, asshole!"

That brings us up to about 18.  We'd always eventually get back to LA somewhere on the road.  I decided it's either LA, New York or Nashville; I can't stand New York, it's too odd for me, and Nashville has the ugliest women on the planet, so it had to be LA.  So I moved to LA and was working pumping gas to pay the bills and just trucking around night clubs and sitting in, trying to find the right people to play with.  First it was anybody.  I didn't care if they stunk, just to get a gig and play music rather than pumping gas.

I was playing a top forty club, but there was a place called the Sundance Saloon up in Calabassas in the San Fernando Valley which is now defunct because they ran out the little old lady that ran it to make a French restaurant or some high class thing.  It was the only place really where it was a musicians' hangout.  Pete (Thomas) and I used to play there all the time when we weren't working with John.  Lowell George would come and hang out, Phil Everly, Glen Campbell...players would come down and play for free beer, peanuts and gas money.  Usually get ten bucks a man a night and it would be about four sets.  It was great, and that was where most players who were putting a road show together would go to find players, because some of the best players around were just hanging out there.  That's what happened to me when I was about 18.

A cat named Sherman Hayes who was playing with a group called Pan at that time - it was Ron Elliott from the Beau Brumme's, his band - he was the bass player, but he had always written and he got signed to Capitol.  We did a long tour with Sonny Terry Terry and Brownie McGhee.  Sonny and Brownie were my all-time favourites for blues because they were just traditional.  Everybody knows who they are and I'd go hang out with them and talk to them.  Brownie and I were hitting it off but Sonny was straight - he was off the booze and just on Seven Up - so him and Brownie were always fighting.  Sonny would be in one corner with his harmonica and Brownie would be in this other corner with his bottle of White Horse getting down.

So Brownie says, "Why don't you come out and play with us?" I said, "Great, man, I'd love it."  Brownie's son George McGhee was roadie for them at that time.  He was 19, from San Francisco/Oakland, a typical Shaft, a great guy.  George and I were always hanging out.  I played that night and it blew Brownie, really got him going, he got excited.  It was getting old time and all of a sudden he got a new excitement.  He said, "How much would it take for you to play with us every night the whole show?"  I was going, "God, I don't care, I just love playing with you.  I'd do it for free."

Sherman did three albums and two of them got shelved.  The albums were incredible, way before their time, so to speak...country, steel, acoustic guitar, it was like the Waylon and Willie kind of thing except it was back then, about '71, '72. At that time Al Coury was with Capitol, just taking over.  He was just going, "This is what we've got to do with the company,'' and everybody was jumping.  He was a sharp businessman, he knew what it took to get the ball rolling, which unfortunately had Sherman snuffed.

Oh, I should have mentioned there's a two year span there where I got nailed by Uncle Sam to go play army in Vietnam, which took me out of what I was into.  I was drafted in '69.  The lottery number was 008, so I did that game, but luckily I came back in one piece and got back into playing.

So Sherman got dropped by Capitol and he went to play bass with Mac Davis for about three months, and then he went to playing bass for Waylon Jennings and has been with him for three or four years.  I just kept on the road, because Sonny and Brownie work eleven months out of every year since 1939.  I kept playing with them for six or seven months and then I got offered another gig which was an audition for the Steve Miller Band.  Me and a drummer, Don Heffington, had hung out through the years in LA as a rhythm section.  He later played with Seals and Croft and was with Lowell George when Lowell passed away.  We were doing gigs and got called to an audition.  Flew up to San Francisco and got the gig, but we never met steve Miller and he was never there at the auditions or rehearsals.  We thought it was kind of odd that Mister Star wasn't there at the rehearsals.  Finally he showed up and there was a big scene, a lot of walking out, getting our tickets to fly home.

Then Stan Goldstein, who passed away recently, was handling Sherman Hayes and Sonny and Brownie for APA out in New York.  Then he got transferred to Magma Artists in LA and he handled John as well.  When Sherman's thing fizzled, Stan and I had got tight buddies, and I asked him to keep an ear out for me.  He called me up one night and said, "Hey, there's a definite possibility of working with John Stewart.  I think it would be the right gig for you.''  I went, "Far out, let's check it out."  Did the audition and John dug it and he said...at that time he was living up north and his bass player, Arnie Moore, was with him.  Arnie wasn't into what was coming off musician-wise or whatever.  He had some other people he had found in LA, he had got bored or something.  So John said, ''Yeah, let's go."  Hooked up with John and I've been with him for four years.

Were you familiar with John's work before?

I'd always heard of him but I haven't owned a record player since I was living in Colorado when I was a kid.  I was always living in hotel rooms, plus it seemed like a waste of money, there were better things to spend my money on like amps, or I was always saving for an axe.  I've got a little cassette player and that's it.  I never owned any albums but I'd heard cuts on the radio and at friends' houses, so I knew him.  I'd always check out the clubs in the paper for who's playing, so you'd always see John Stewart around.  The name was familiar but I wasn't familiar with what he was really into.

You say you went for an audition.  Were there other bass players there at the time?

Yeah, it was cattle call.  I was giving bad vibes to all the other bass players there.  I remember when we auditioned we did two tunes, because he wanted a bass player that could sing as well.  Stan had sent me the "Phoenix Concerts" album.  Said, "Learn that shit and have it down, and the harmony parts."  So I learnt the whole album thinking, 'Anything he throws at me, I'll be together.'  First thing we did was 'California Bloodlines' and I sang the harmony.  The drummer at the audition was Gene Garfin.  The next tune was 'Let the Big Horse Run' which has a weird vocal harmony and I blew it.  Couldn't get it down.  John said, "Okay, that's enough," and I was packing my amp with the whole audition having taken about eight minutes.

He said, "Okay, who's next ?" to his manager, Mark Ford, and I thought, 'I can't walk out of here with just that.'  I walked up to him and said, "John, whose arm have I got to break to get this gig?"  He went, "Ooohh !" and Mark said, "I'd like to see him and Arnie together!"  I said, "Listen, I really want the gig.  I'm really into what you're doing, plus I think I'd be right for you."  He said, "Yeah, I've heard a lot of good things about you from Stan Goldstein.  I'll give you a call and let you know.

Three or four days went by and he called me and said, "I really like the way you play.  It looks like it's gonna happen.  I just wondered, do you know of any guitar or steelplayers?"  This was for the "Wingless Angels" tour.  I go, "Yeah, I've got a couple of guys, buddies of mine that were in Sherman Hayes band.  Gregg Leisz, a pedal steel player, and Jon Woodhead." Gregg was with him for nine months to a year, then the budget went after the promo tour went down so John had to let him go.  He's done a lot of good things.  Gregg was in the Funky Kings with Jack Tempchin and is doing some things with Kenny Loggins now, I think.  Jon Woodhead, who you know, was a guy that lived down the street from me in LA and he had his first professional gig with my band.  For six or seven months I had my own band called Chris Whelan and Easy Moses and we did The Troubadour and The Brass Ring (which is now levelled and is a parking lot or something).  Woodhead was 16 years old at that time.  I've got some demos that you wouldn't believe with Woodhead playing when he was 16.

Back to where we were.  I gave John these two guys' names and numbers.  He called them and they went down and blew him away because they were just great players.  They worked together so their lines would all go in and out of each other. John said, "You got it - you got the gig."  Then John called me back.  I guess Arnie had come over his pad half in the bag and said, "Man, what the hell, I don't know what to do.''  So John called me back up and said, "Hey, man, I'm really sorry about this, but Arnie's been with me about five years and I've got to give the guy another shot at it.  It seems like he made a mistake and he thought he wanted out, and now he wants in, so I've got to give him a shot."  I'd just learned all those tunes from "Wingless Angels" and "Phoenix Concerts," but I said, "Okay."  He said, "Let me know how your career's going.  See you later."  I'm going 'Grrrrrrr', I remember frisbeeing the "Phoenix Concerts" album over the back hill.

They went on the tour.  It lasted eight or nine weeks.  He called me back, said, "Hey, are you still interested?"  I said, "Yeah."  He said, "Well, you're on,'' so it was great.  At that time Gene Garfin had left and Pete Thomas had come in playing drums.  We had Pete, Jon, Gregg and me and John - it was a good time rock and roll band.  We all loved each other and it showed on stage.  It was good playing together.  Woodhead wound up leaving and going with Ace; then he left them and went with Leon Russell.  He got married about a year ago and he's got a little baby.  I don't know who he's playing with right now, I haven't seen him in a while.  I just got married June 22nd.  We just snuck off - me, my old lady, my sister and my brother - we flew to Vegas.  No honeymoon, just went up for the night and came back down and that was it.  I didn't want any complications.  All that money and people drooling over you.

Was that still the promotional side of "Wingless Angels" you came into?

At the end of it.  John had just gotten married to Buffy.

Did Arnie and Gene Garfin leave simultaneously?

No, Gene was just there for the audition.  He had left before but was doing the audition things as a favour to John.  Same with Jon Douglas.  Jon was in the band for the tour, I think, and he left to go with that Dancer group.  I haven't heard from him in a long time, but those people were basically before me.  Pete was already in the band when I got in.

Pete had problems with visas and so on, didn't he?

That's why he was named Joaquin Karnel.  One time in Tennessee, all of a sudden Mark Ford - John'e brother- in-law, Buffy's brother - he gave John a signal from the side of the stage in Nashville.  It was a small club, The Exit Inn.  He called, "Hey, the union guy's here."  John was already in the middle of the introduction. "On drums,'' he was about to say, "from England, Pete Thomas," but instead he said, "From Mobile, Alabama, from The Bucket of Blood Club,' Mister Joaquin Karnel."  The name stuck with him.  From then on it was Joaquin Karnel, that was his stage name.

John changes his bands through necessity and...

Yeah, it scares me every time.

I should have warned you that the only band member I've interviewed before was Arnie, and you know what happened to him!

Arnie and I are good friends, we get along great.

Was it very strange when you first joined the band, because with Arnie having been with John for so long it must have made it very difficult for you?

Well, it was a vibe of are you welcome?  I got it all the time, people just yelling out whenever there was a lull between words from John on the stage... "Where's Arnie?"  All the time the first year.  One night I was in Phoenix at the Celebrity Theatre.  It was sold out and somebody yelled out, ''Where's Arnie?"  John was messing with his guitar so I walked up to my mike and let out a big belch and said, "I ate him!"  They loved it.  When we played The Roxy, Arnie came to the gig and I said, "Wow, I'd like to meet him."  Mark and Pete were going, "No, it'll be a bad scene."  Then we played The Palomino and Arnie came back and he was a genuine real nice guy.  I knew he couldn't be an asshole because everybody loved him.

We started to hang out together and if Arnie got any calls or anything and couldn't do it, he'd call me, and vice versa.  It was that kind of thing.  We'd go down and put back a few beers together once in a while.  He was in Spanky and Our Gang for a while, then he did some things with Hoyt Axton for a while.  Last I heard he was getting into acting.  From what I hear he's real good.  He's got so much positive energy that it turns people on, and with that size you can't help but go along with it.

I assume that by the time Gregg left and the band split, John was without a record label?

That's true.  The time between "Wingless Angels" and "Fire in the Wind" was years with nothing, no backing, and just rely on his reputation to play the circuit for his fans and keep working.  That's what he did for two years until "Fire in the Wind.'' That's what it boiled down at The Palomino with the grass roots campaign which got him signed.

Had John talked to you about this campaign, or was it as big a surprise to you as it must have been to the audience?

Oh, that's the way John is.  You never know what's cooking...which I love, that element of surprise.  It's like people go, "Where are you playing?"  I go, "I don't know."  I love it that way because you're always surprised.  It's always, "Well, we're going to England."  "Oh, great, what a nice surprise."  I'm always looking forward to something.  That stuff at The Palomino, he just whipped it out.  I might as well have been sitting in the audience...it was that kind of thing.

It was the same thing with that Neil Young bit.  We were playing McCabe's and all of a sudden he was doing his Bob Dylan, which he always did.  He did Bob Dylan, Jesse Winchester, Gordon Lightfoot, and that was the bit and we'd just sit back and dig it.  It was just him and I playing McCabe's, I think.  That's where it really got down to it.  At that time it was Joey Harris on lead guitar and Gary Weisburg on drums.  Pete had left to go with Elvis.  It got down to where he couldn't even afford to take the whole band.  We were doing extra special gigs for bills and it would be John and I.  That night at McCabe's he just went, "Bob Dylan, you'll see him in Vegas.  It's coming down."

Then he goes, "Chris does a great Neil Young."  I thought, "Oh, shit, what am I gonna do?"  It was that spontaneous and it came off.  The crowd loved it and we kept it.

They loved it last night.  If John got vibes on nothing else he must have got the vibes on that.

I thought the crowd was great.  You see, I look at people's eyes when I'm playing.  If it's a terrible audience that's actually booing, you know, I always find that one table that are digging it and play for them to get the energy you need to be positive. Every table I looked at last night people were smiling and into it.  I think they were really intensely listening.

Back to the band thing.  One day we'll try to get one of Pete Frame's Family Trees of all this.  Pete left after the RSO thing, didn't he?

Pete was really into being a band and everybody doing the same thing, which I can get behind.  It's great if it's called Montana, or something, and everybody's got the same action in there and is striving for the same thing, but when you're a sideman, you're a sideman.  You're hired to back up the artist.  If you can get to be great friends and buddies and brothers, great, but the bottom line is you're still working for that man and making him happen.  Pete was always into, and thought of it, as a band.  When John got signed to RSO and they assigned him a producer, Mentor Williams, who was...typically, what happens when a record company assigns a guy to produce, the guy has no idea where John has come from, never heard any of his previous albums, he listens to some of the demos and goes, "Oh, this is where this guy's at."  Making up his own mind in his house about how he's going to do this record.  'We'll go back to Nashville and we'll hire these Nashville session players, and I'll present him like a Michael Murphey, John Denver type.'

John wasn't into it at all but John explained to me, "Hey, this is my shot.  I finally got signed.  I want to use you guys on the album but I'm telling you, to get the ball rolling I've got to do it their way.  There's politics involved."  Pete thought he should record it live, rock and roll, but it's a compromise.  If you want to play the game...it's like poker.  So I knew exactly where John's situation was.  Then Jake had come over and been hanging out at a couple of gigs.  Je told Pete, "I've got this artist, Elvis Costello, and we're putting a band together and I really think you'd be right.  It's really gonna happen."  Pete weighed it and decided to leave.

As it turned out John came back and, like he said he would, got me on the album...with a little self help, of course.  I was sitting in a corner bar one day when my brother came in and said, "John just called and wants you to come down."  I had my bass in my truck so I thought this was my shot.  When I got down there it turned out that John just wanted to give me a live tape of the show to give to Gary to learn the songs.  I asked if I could stick around and give a listen.

During a break, Mentor Williams came over and asked me what I thought about the bass sound and the playing of it.  I told him the sound was alright but it didn't seem like the player was into what exactly John was trying to get across.  So he said, "Do you think could ..." and before he could finish the sentence I was out the door to get my bass.

In fact, after Mentor left, John just went to Al and said, "Get this guy out."  So Mentor left and John produced, like, half the album.  A lot of it was like 'Boston Lady.'  Just John and I in the studio with Gary playing his knees and a little triangle on certain parts, and that was it.  Overdubbed guitars and doing the harmonies.  It came out to be a great, great tape.  But there's always that clout.  Even the "Bombs Away.." album they'd go, ''Who are you gonna use on the album?"  He said, "I'd like to use Chris and Gary and Joey..."  "Never heard of them!"  You can't be anybody unless you're on that circle of players that producers use - Lee Sklar, Russ Kunkel, Bryan Garofalo and stuff.  Bryan was in John's band at one time and he was the obvious choice for John.  Bryan's a great dude, a great player.  It's just the politics.  You get the wheels, if they're happy, play their game, then after it gets rolling you can make it turn around into the way you want it.

In fact, you ended up playing on quite a lot of "Bombs Away..."

Yeah, I'm happy.

The "Fire in the Wind" album - when it came out there must have been great hopes, there always are, but...

What happened with that was I never got discouraged.  I knew John was finally getting on the right track of what he wanted. Not what producers or record companies wanted or thought where he was at.  It was closer.  "Bombs Away..." is what John wants from himself, not what a producer wants from John.

When I heard "Bombs Away..." I realised "Fire in the Wind" was the dummy run.

Personally, I'm weird about when I do an album.  It's like one morning I might wake up and play the tape and go, "I love it." Next morning I might go, "Aaaagh !"  It was about a year after "Fire in the Wind" had already been out and faded, and I went, "That's a great album."  You're too close to the source.  You can't be subjective or objective about it.  You've got to get away from it to really see it.

When you put so much into an album and it doesn't happen, as with "Fire in the Wind," it must be really difficult to keep the batteries charged.

Yeah, but there was a new kind of energy, I think, which manages to keep you into it.  It got to the point right before "Bombs Away..." was finished, he was way over budget, he had no more money, and the album was not finished...like, on 'Living in the Heart of a Dream,' there was still a lot of things he wanted to do with that tune, but there was no more money.  Joey had got his own band called Fingers, a new wave band, because Joey was always into that.  He started showing up at the gigs onstage with a suit and the skinny tie and his hair chopped, an earring, the whole number, and jumping up and down.  John, out of the corner of his eye in the middle of 'Bloodlines,' would look over and go, "What is this?  It's not exactly what I'm into you know?  Joey, are you gonna play with me, or what?  I think you ought to be doing your own thing."  Joey went, "yeah, I think so too."  Because it was just a security thing, paying the bills, with John.  So Joey went ahead and he's doing good.  It's exactly what he wants to be doing so it's good for him.  It was a blessing in disguise, actually.  He realised it about three weeks after he did it.

Gary, he actually had let the band go right before "Bombs Away..." was finished.  Lindsey put in about 20 grand of his own money to finish the album.  John and I were doing gigs, just the two of us, folk clubs and places like that.  For morale, it was a low point of our time.

Why did Gary leave?

It was kind of like the Pete thing.  He wanted to be a band and he couldn't separate the two in his mind.  It's a big problem for players in music. You always think of music as something you've been doing all your life, it's an art, it's something emotional, but though you never want to enter that business aspect, it is a business.  Gary thought, 'I should be supported,' and it's not that way.  John would go, "I'd love to support you...I can't even support myself.  I've got kids.  What do you want?  My boots?  You're talking to the wrong guy."  That's how it happened.

Gary said, "I just gotta find some more work."  John said, "Yeah, great."  "But what happens if the gigs conflict."  I said, "You go with what you know, that's it.  I'm not gonna figure it out for you. You figure it out."  He said, "Okay," and started working with other people.

So with "Bombs Away..." finished he had to get a band together.  Did he do that through word of mouth or auditions or what?

Back to auditions.  Well, Wayne Hunt, the keyboard player we have now is an old buddy of mine.  We were looking for keyboard players.  I said, "I've got a cat that might work."  I hadn't talked to Wayne in a long time and I called him up - he was hanging out and was into it.  Came down and played and John liked it.  That was that.

We went through about thirty drummers.  It was getting down to the first promotional tour for "Bombs Away..." and we had two days to find a drummer.  Bob Mason played and he was better than most of them.  There were a couple of good players but they were on a trip.  90% of the thing is you've got to be able to live with the guys.  It doesn't matter if they're Nigel Olsenn or something, if you can't live with them, forget it.  Bob came around and he played and he was into it.  He had just finished with The Pointer Sisters, he was with 5th Dimension, he's the epitome of the professional musician.  Number one, any gig, he'd play anything.  He's got his own life and he's got his travelling shoes together.  He doesn't get involved in raps or trips or anything.  He's also been with Van Morrison... played with a lot of good people, you know, so we knew he had got his chops together at that point.  I liked the guy.  To tell you the truth, John was doing so much business stuff for the tour and record things that he was basically leaving it up to me, because I know John's tastes.

Had Wayne played with anybody in particular?

Wayne's working on his own material and he's close to getting a deal.  He writes real good, commercial, Gary Wright kind of stuff.  Real tasty.

Can you try to put into words what the last few months have been like?  Both for you and being there on the sidelines for John.

First off, it makes me happy to see John happy, because we've been through the bottom of the barrel and when he's bummed, I'm bummed, because we're both doing the same thing.  It's taken a lot of pressure off him - the hit.  At the same time added a lot of pressure but a different kind.  The new kind of pressure is to keep the new hits coming, but it's an exciting pressure because it makes him want to write.  The pressure that's taken off is the money thing with the bills and the 'I've got to survive' trip.  Now it's easier so he smiles a lot more.  It's like a great side of him, a side that would maybe happen only twice a week during the bottom of the pits time.  Now it's everyday, so it's a turn on.

It's like the whole feeling of his life has finally broken through.  It doesn't even have to happen to you personally.  It's when you're close to something and seeing it happen, then it might as well be happening to you.  That's something in life that few people get to experience...of really breaking through.  Most people in the States are stuck in the 9 till 5 thing so they can save up for the Winnebago or recreational vehicle and take off for the weekends with the kids, and that's their happiness.  We're really lucky.

The single did take off incredibly fast, didn't it?

Yeah, we thought somebody had made a mistake, it was almost that kind of thing.  I said, "I'm not going to open my mouth, but I think somebody's got it wrong.  The computer blew it or something, but I ain't gonna say nothing."  All of a sudden a lot of 'friends' started appearing out of the woodwork.  Slap you on the back at a bar and say, "Hey, buy him a drink.  This is my friend," and start introducing you.  You'd start going, "Weeell, where did you hide?"

If that's happening to you...

You can imagine what's happening to John.   I think he's changed his phone number about four times since the record happened.  I just say, "Well, make sure you don't forget to tell me when you change it.  I don't want to be lost in space without your number."

The other thing is that you must be playing as much in a month as you previously played in six months?

Yeah, and another big thing is that since the time I was l0 years old it's always been a quest, a never ending saga, trying to find my bass sound, the right sound I really feel inside.  We don't have the equipment here - we couldn't bring it over - but John bought me the number one bass rig and finally I got the sound I've always been looking for.  To me, coming offstage, that's it.  The whole show, that was it, you can't put a price on that.  You slog and strive for fifteen years.

Most people's favourite track over here seems to be 'Lost Her in the Sun' and that owes little to the Fleetwood Mac connection everyone picks up on, or so it seems to me.

Really!  In fact, it was the only tune where I really got to shine on vocals.  With Stevie and Lindsey, Jesus, they can sing . When you're sitting third stool down from them, I was figuring it was great playing bass.  John wanted that kind of vocal on that tune, and it wound up where John did the guitars, Joey Carbone keyboards and Rick Shlosser on drums.  I was on bass and could do both harmonies.  Thank God it turned out good, because I would have walked out with my tail between my legs.  I'm really glad people like it.

Well, as I say, from talking to a lot of people, it's definitely most people's favourite track off the album.

Really?  No kidding?  God, I love to hear it!

Of the new stuff which John is doing, 'Odin' is getting a 'Gold' like reaction.  How did that song come about?

Actually, it was when you were there with us a year ago.You remember we had played with Randy Newman in Monterey, and the closest hotel we could get was the Salinas Towne House where we usually stayed when we used to play the Rodeo up there.  They know us there and we can be crazy and they don't care.  They had that little local band (The Greg Morrison Band) playing in the bar and we all got up on the stage, remember?  I just started playing this bass line...we were just jamming and you get up there and start playing something and get in the groove and that was it.  We were playing Cowgirl in the Sand/Rhiannon/Gold, which all had the same chord structure of A minor and F.  That's where it came from, that chord structure, and John said, "We've got to remember that bass line.  We've got to keep that in, that mood, and I'll get round to writing some words."

It was in his garage, we were hanging out, and he had a little tape recorder.  His son, Jeremy, was playing drums and it was me and John and his new guitarist, Steve Ross...we were teaching Steve the tunes (I'll get on to Steve after this) and we did a couple of new tunes.  There was 'Odin' and 'Wind on the River,' we got the mood for that and the harmonies.

Steve lives with Richard Dashut who is Fleetwood Mac's recording engineer and sound man - their main man.  He's in the ball game, except he doesn't play in the band.  John went to a party with Lindsey and Steve was there, sitting around by the fireplace playing guitar.  John asked what he was doing and he said, "Looking for a gig."  He had previously been with David Cassidy and the Beach Boys.  They got along great and...here he is.  Sometimes they come out of the woodwork - sometimes you're looking for ever.  Like I said, l0% of it is onstage, 90% is living.  If you can't live together the vibes show up onstage.

It will be time to go to The Venue very soon for tonight's show, so can I just close by asking about the sound you get on stage?  At times last night it seemed like such a strong wall of sound you felt you could stand up and lean against it.

The sound we were looking for was a wall of sound.  Everyone playing basically the same chords and roots but in different octaves.  The result is the keyboards fill the high midrange sound of the spectrum, the rhythm guitar below that, the bass below that, the lead guitar above the piano.  The drums playing simple and obvious with the main strength on kick and snare. The trick is getting everyone to play simple, yet interesting, with everything pointing to John and his song.  The key word is blend.