My plans for this blog is to share thoughts, stories, ideas and hopefully some good 'ole country wisdom that I've gathered over the years while traveling around this country playin' my songs. In my 30 some years as an entertainer, I've met a lot 'o folks; seen a lot 'o things and put up with a bunch 'o crap from a lot 'o people... and every bit of it falls in line with my philosophy that "Life is nothing more than a constant collection of experiences, and the one with the most at the end wins". I've never been a good loser, so I try to collect as many experiences as possible. With this blog, I hope to share some of my experiences, and give y'all a little peek into the life, and mind, of a modern day Honky Tonk Man.
For my first entry, it only makes sense that I go back to the beginning. It was the Summer of 1981, and man what a Summer it was. I was 16 years old, playin' up-right bass in a really bad country/rockabilly band, enjoying my first car (1967 Plymouth Barracuda), dealing with the reality of my first girlfriend and livin' the life of a guitar playin' cowboy. It was, for me, the Summer of "Freedom".
Our little band, for which I've even forgotten the name, had played a couple gigs that Summer, but nothing of great consequence. One of those unremarkable shows was at a local Ford dealership during a live remote "Summer Sales Event" covered by the local Country Station. During the event, I became pretty chummy with one of the DJ's in an attempt to be "recognized" by local radio (I would love to know today what he REALLY thought of our music then... Haha!), and that ladies and gentleman was my first mistake.
It was later that Summer when I got the fated call. That local radio DJ called me in a panic, asking if I was available to "...fill in for a no-show bass player down at the fairgrounds". He also asked if I had a "bass guitar" as well the big upright? I told him I did, but it was nothing special (1970 Lyle Hollow Body sportin' some fancy black tape wound strings... complete with a green "Peace Sign" painted on the case) but I had one. He said, "Great, grab that guitar and get to the fairgrounds... you started 15 minutes ago". I told my mom I was headed to the fairgrounds to "sit in with a band" and off I went.
Now, let me explain somethin'. I was 16 years old, had been playing bass "guitar" for a couple months, and thought I was MUCH better than I was. So when I got he call, I was just a bit on the over confident side, because after all... the local radio personality called ME to bail this band out of a jam. HELP was on the way!! Uh-huh...
As I recall, my entrance at the fairgrounds was quite dramatic. I roared through the "Exhibitors Gate" in my 4 wheeled, midnight blue stallion with a fish on the grill, headed for the rodeo arena wielding my might 4 stringed ax... well, I did have to stop and explain why I was NOT just trying to "sneak" in the back gate like I had tried to do 100 other times, but eventually, the radio guy showed up waving his arms and yelling, "let him through, let him through!!". So I was off!!!
I was escorted to the side door of the rodeo arena and told, "hurry up... everybody's waiting, lets GO!!". Into the arena I strode, standing tall, walking briskly, packing my bass guitar with the peace sign on the case, to be met by the turning of 2000 heads and the gaze of 2000 sets of eyes... and an eager looking band who had taken their places behind an even more eager David Frizzell & Shelly West!! OH CRAP!! At this point I was handily accosted by 2 greazy, long haired neanderthal "roady" types who stripped me of my guitar, led me to the stage, told me where to stand, strapped & placed my guitar in my hands, slapped me on the back and said, "good luck little brother"
As my young, inexperienced, extremely overwhelmed mind was attempting to process everything that was happening, I heard the familiar clicking of drum sticks striking one another and a faint male voice, "One, Two, Three, Four" coming from the direction of the drummer, then another voice invaded my consciousness about 2 bars into the song saying, "Oklahoma, You're The Reason God Made Oklahoma... D, Key of D!". Instantly I was awake, aware, conscious of my surroundings and on the verge of throwing up. It was at this moment that I realized I only knew how to play 12 songs on the bass... and this wasn't one of them!!
Well, that first song was a complete disaster. I MAY have hit 2 or 3 of the right notes, but by the look on the stage managers face, that might be a bit kind. The reality of this little nightmare really hit home when the man himself, David Frizzell, turned to me and said, "come on son, pull your head out and play that thing". OH!! THAT HELPED!!
The next words that make contact with my ears are, "Silver Threads" (I still get a bit nauseated when I hear that song). It's probably not all together necessary to explain the fact that this song is a bit more difficult than the first one, but I will say that for a 16 year old kid that only knows 12 songs... "Silver Threads" is nothing short of nuclear physics to a 2nd Grader!! I made it half way through the first chorus with fumbling fingers and ALL the wrong notes before I violently unplugged my guitar, dropped the cable on the stage and ran out of the arena without my case, got in my car and drove home. Bad day!!
As I look back on that fated day, I can honestly say that was the beginning of my experience collecting in earnest. It impressed upon me several things that I hold absolutely true to this day.
- You are NEVER as good as you think you are!
- Practice doesn't make perfect... but it'll get you through the rough spots.
- A "played with" credit is not always a good thing.
- EVERY experience we collect in life has value... even if it is a painful one.
- And... I STILL hate "Silver Threads & Golden Needles".
Bob Manning
Bob Manning & The Honky Tonk Roadshow
http://www.nashville-west.com/
Now I'll have to add you guys again.
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