LIFE LESSON #8 - BE OBSERVANT

I've been scanning pages from several issues of PULSE magazine, an entertainment rag I worked for in the late 1980s. I'll be referencing them in several of my future blog posts.

Here's an ad from 1988. It's for a bar I used to go to fairly regularly in Mississauga called ENTEX. When I looked at this ad I nearly flipped.

Why the *$#@ wasn't I paying attention back then?! Why did I just notice this ad now?!

Ian Hunter AND Mick Ronson on the same stage together for 9 bucks!

Sadly, Mick Ronson passed away a few years after this gig. Mick was the archetype of the rock guitarist and his work with David Bowie during the Ziggy Stardust years was some of the most awesome guitar work ever.

Ian Hunter -who was a mainstay of Mott The Hoople, and had a great solo career - was a legend in his own right. My favorite thing about Ian is that he played in a band who released a single called Yorkshire Relish, Caravan. It's a name that conjures up the early years of Spinal Tap.

If I ever get a chance to travel back to the past and meet myself, the first thing I'm going to do is bring this ad, shove it into my 20-year-old hand and say; "Go to this concert or you'll regret it!"

GEAR- My first guitar. Or Life Lesson #7 - choose quality

My first guitar was purchased at the ubiquitous Consumer's Distributing chain of catalogue stores. Anyone in Canada of my age remembers Consumers (as we called it). They were kind of like Sears only without the clothing. They sold small appliances, jewellery, electronics, sports equipment and toys.
This description partially sums up the buying experience.
Consumers Distributing aimed to reduce costs for customers by storing goods in a stockroom, instead of displaying them in a costly showroom. Customers made their selections from a catalogue, filled out a slip with product identification, and waited for staff to retrieve the items from the warehouse.
Of course half the time the stuff you wanted was not in stock that day and if it wasn't in stock that day you likely weren't going to get it EVER because a check of their main warehouse would always prove fruitless.
"Oh by the way," the woman behind the counter would say. "We have a similar product here at 5 times the cost of the one you wanted. It's definitely in stock. Would you like to buy it instead?"
"Would you like to be jailed for bait-and-switch-style fraud?" I would say in my precocious 13-year old way.
They never liked me much there. I'm sure they called me names as soon I left the store.
On this day though the guitar was in stock, and it was exactly like the guitar pictured here.
What kind was it? It was definitely a Japanse guitar. But it had no name of course. The one pictured here is identified as a Teisco, however by the early 80s Teisco had long been bought out by Kawai, so it may technically been a Kawai. Japan was making some very cool guitars at the time, This was not one of them
I wish I could say more about what the guitar felt like to play or what it sounded like. All I can remember was that it wasn't quite what I expected (a feeling that was eerily similar to what I'd felt every other time I bought anything from Consumers)
I also bought a cheap plastic amplifier with it. Actually I still have that amp and will feature it in my next blog post.
I bought the guitar for about 70 dollars (not an inconsequential sum back then). I had no idea how to play it or even tune it. I took it to the music store to get the guy to tune it up for me. He looked at me and said for the money I had spent I could have gotten a much better guitar from his store.
He pointed to a Harmony Stratocaster copy hanging from one of the racks and said that it was the same price. Later that night i took the catalogue guitar back to the store and got my refund. The following day i went back to get the Strat.
Oh, that catalogue guitar is now "vintage" and would probably cost about $200 in good condition. Adjusted for inflation that's about $40 more than I paid for it. This guy thinks people are paying way too much for these guitars now. I agree.

LIFE LESSON #6 - IF YOU PASS OUT AT AN ARMY BASE WATCH WHAT YOU WEAR

Back in the late 1980s, B-i-L's band was playing a gig at an army base in Kingston Ontario. The "dressing room" was actually the officer's lounge, which had been closed for the evening to accommodate us.

Normally, at the end of the night I would have helped tear down, but I had just come out of the hospital and had orders not to lift anything heavy.

Knowing this information going into the night, I had consumed a bit too much of the wonderfully cheap booze that our armed brethren have access too.

We barely pay our military in Canada, so cheap liquor is the least we can do.

But enough about politics - the important part of the story was that I was drunk at an army base and decided to sleep it off back in the "dressing room" on a rather large and comfy couch.

The only problem was the coat that I was wearing. It was a very chilly February weekend in Kingston so I had grabbed my grandfather's warm army-green hunting jacket. When I passed out on the couch, I had it draped over my head and upper body.

You can likely see where this is going.

At 0123 hours (pronounced zero-one-hundred-twenty-three-hours) military time, an MP strode into the officer's lounge and saw this enlisted man passed out with his coat on top of him.

Suddenly I went from beautiful silent blackened bliss to a shot of bright light and the shout of

"WHAT IN THE $%#%$%$ DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING SOLDIER!!!!!!! ON YOUR FEET IMMEDIATELY!!!!!

Much to my surprise I was on my feet - and believe me it was immediately.

The Military Policeman had an odd look on his face as he saw this 120 lb teenager standing there in front of him bewildered and trying to speak.

The worst part was I didn't know how long I'd been sleeping. All I could say was "Ahhhh, is the band st..sttill heerree?"

The MP's voice changed to a normal cadence. "You with the band?"

I nodded.

"Oh" he said quietly. He handed back my coat and walked away without saying another word.

LIFE LESSON #5 There's a time and place for everything

Last week I went to see The Zombies at The Mod Club.





This band has always been a favorite of mine with their mellow psychedelic jazz feel and fantastic 60s-style vocal harmonies. You'll probably remember Time of the Season.









but they also had several other hits in the same vein.



The place was packed with fans - all of whom were really into the music, but one guy just didn't get it.



I've seen this guy at every Iron Maiden and Judas Priest concert I ever went to as a teenager. Totally drunk; Smelly leather vest; Obnoxiously loud with a voice that can peel paint, and aggressive to the point of expecting that the music would be better if he was able to shout in the band's collective ears and slug them on the shoulders while they were playing.



Every time there was a jazzy organ solo or a delicate vocal harmony he'd scream "Go! GO! GO! Do it, DO it, DOOOO ITTTTT!!!! Oh yeah that kills man. Kills! KILLLLLSSS!!!!



Now a teenaged guy like this fits into an Iron Maiden concert. However, when the guy is about 55, and everyone's trying to mellow out to psychedelic pop music he stands out - and not in a good way.



So the life lesson for this man and people like him is this: There's a time and place for everything. Just make sure you're not at the wrong type of concert 20+ years too late.

LIFE LESSON #4 - IGNORANCE CAN BLOW UP IN YOUR FACE

There have been many well-documented tragedies involving the misuse of concert pyrotechnics. However, this life lesson comes from a less well-known story that I happened to witness.

The era is the late 1980s. The place is a former strip club which had been converted into a music venue. A classic rock and metal cover band is on stage. Their show was complete with pyrotechnics

There were a number of flash pots – metal cylinders containing ignitable flash powder which are attached by wire to a trigger mechanism (usually a footswitch) – across the stage.

The band was well into its second set when a young, drunken girl went up near the stage to dance with her friends. To the band’s credit, they avoided using any pyrotechnics when anyone was close to the stage. However, they weren’t counting on the actions of the girl.

Picture the scene. Girl with beer in one hand. Smoke in the other. Dancing. She takes the last drag on the cigarette and looks to put it out. The old “stripper stage” is about shoulder high and she sees a metal cylinder on it that, in her state, she oddly mistakes for an ashtray.

For me the image remains in slow motion to this day. Cigarette goes in….BOOOM. A flash of light. The scream. The unmistakable stink of burnt hair.

Thankfully, it didn’t end too badly. Her hair was toast but she suffered no serious burns. It also turned out she was underage so she wasn’t able to sue the band.

Still let’s learn from her mistake. Let’s not assume we know everything. Get to know about the world around you. It’s safer that way.

And please… don’t ever mistake a flash pot for an ashtray.

UNIVERSAL TRUTH #1 - KEITH RICHARDS IS ICKY

I have a friend, a young one. She’s in her mid to late 20s but has the innocence of a 12-year old who's rarely been let out of the house. I suspect her parents are quite conservative.

She doesn’t drink, smoke or date. She also has no ego and little reverence for fame. She’s a flight attendant who works on high-end charters such as sports teams and rock groups.

She doesn’t know the sports or the player's names, but she knows what each of the players like to drink. It’s quite odd watching a hockey game when she’s around. They’ll show a close-up of a famous player and she’ll point to him and say “Hey, there’s Cranberry and sprite!”

Anyway, she was doing a stint as flight attendant for the Rolling Stones, when Keith Richards asked her out. She describes it this way.

Keith: Mmmm. Say you wanna go and have dinner or something mmmm?
Her: No thanks.
Keith: Mmmmmm why’s that? Ah you don’t like me?
Her: You smell of tobacco.

Turning away, she then goes into the galley where she’s quickly met by a female member of the band’s entourage.

Groupie: Did Keith Richards just ask you out?
Her: Yes he did. I said no.
Groupie: Why the f*&k did you do that?
Her: (pointing to Keith) Just look at him. He’s so ICKY!

I love ya Keith but truer words have never been spoken.

LIFE LESSON #3 - DON'T LET OTHER PEOPLE SPEAK FOR YOU

This is very similar to lesson #2 below.

This time, I'm on stage at a big club downtown to do a charity show. We're one of five bands that night and are the last to do a sound check. We do our check - it's less than five minutes. The sound guy is fatigued after 2 hours of dealing with amateur musicians and wants to get out of the booth. None of us could hear the instruments in our monitors. Finally, we get someone to put up the levels so we can hear each other.

Fast forward a couple hours later. It's showtime! We're the first band to go on. We go up on stage and I start into the killer riff from David Bowie's Rebel Rebel. I can't really hear myself well. I can hear the bass, and drums but that's about it. It turns out, someone had turned the guitar amplifier way down during the break. However, I was so used to not hearing my guitar during the sound check I make the assumption that people can hear me front of house.

We do four minutes of Rebel Rebel without the guitar riff - the equivalent of playing Beethovan's 9th symphony on a tuba and tambourine.

The life lesson here is that i trusted someone with my "voice". I should have checked the amplifier myself before I started playing.

Maybe someone is trying to tell me something. Every time I go on stage it's seems I have a struggle to be heard.

Here I am between songs where you can hear my friend Chris say something about the fact he can hardly hear me. Finally things are rectified and we go into and ultra cheesy rendition of "She's a Lady".

LIFE LESSON #2 IF YOU WANT TO BE HEARD – SPEAK UP!

It was something out of everyone’s worst nightmare.

Okay maybe not your WORST. Maybe not as bad as that nightmare you have about being in mortal danger and not being able to move or speak – or that dream you have about someone of the opposite sex you’ve known for years and never thought of “that way” and suddenly you’ve done it with them and you’re really confused.

No sir, I’m talking about this nightmare: You’ve only played an instrument for two years and it’s your first gig. You’re middle aged and you’re suddenly in front of your friends, family, co-workers and the like. You have no idea if you’re going to blank out, get stage fright, not remember how to play or what.

Suddenly the band starts into the first song – a tune you not only have to play but SING. Your heart is already in your mouth. You hit the strings to the first chord – NOTHING. NO SOUND. You can hear everyone else except yourself. They play the first few bars of the intro as you feel hundreds of eyes on you. What do you do?

You take a quick glance to look at all the links in the chain that can go wrong:
Amplifier on? – check!
Pedal board on?– check!
Tuner mute off? – check!

Why is this happening? You look to your band mates in the hope they’ll realize something is wrong. They don’t stop. What do you do?

Then you realize the volume pot on your guitar is turned down to zero. You slide it up to ten and begin. Miraculously – you finish the song. You even enjoyed it. What a great rush. People clap and cheer. Damn it, you’re suddenly a rock star.

The moral of this story as it relates to life?

If you want to be heard, you have to speak up, or at least turn your guitar on. I know it's cliche, but if you want something bad enough you often have to stick your neck out for it. I put myself on the line that night just being out there and playing in front of people for the first time, but it paid of for me - I had a great time. And I'll never forget that first song - ever,

Life's Lesson #1 - Don't say no to Sebastian Bach

Or anything potentially interesting for that matter.

Most of our regrets are things we didn't do when we had the chance to do them. Thankfully, I only have a few - this is one of them.

In the late 80s I was just entering journalism school and already writing for a music magazine. I was one of the best writers they had and I worked for next to nothing ($2 an inch as I recall - I was a true stringer) .

Consequently, I had a ton of cool assignments constantly offered to me. After a while I started saying no to some of them.

One was an interview with Sebastian Bach. He was lead singer of Skid Row - a band I felt at the time was third-rate imitation of Ratt who were a third-rate imitation of Aerosmith.

Of course, all those bands are now considered "classic".

Besides, if Sebastian had been as cool that day as he was in this episode of Trailer Park Boys, I probably missed an experience I could tell my grandchildren about.

Assuming I had any grandchildren.

And assuming they were really into dope humor.

http://www.trailerparkboys.com/site_clip_detail.php?clip=33&season=11

Why I'm a Guitar Guru

You are all probably wondering the same thing. What makes this guy a guitar guru?

I'm glad you asked. My credentials are impeccable.

First off:

• I'm one of only three guitar gurus recognized by a registered charity (click the underlined link, then go seven photos down - that's right! See I told ya!)
• I have owned more guitars in four years than most professional musicians
• I married into and was divorced from a musical family.
• I travelled with my sister's husband's band when I was 18.
• I have interviewed a Rolling Stone

But more importantly, as you will read through future posts, I realize that the meaning of life can be examined through my varied experience in music and the rock and roll lifestyle.

Oh, and I almost forgot. I also hold a Doctor of Divinity from the Universal Life Church. So you can call me Dr. Guitar Guru if you want.

Or merely Jason.

I'm a busy man!

Ok, how often have we heard someone say this? I never really knew what that phrase meant until I became the head of the news department at a national TV network (in Canada I might add - I'm not rich so don't break into my house).

After a brief flirtation with the electric guitar when I was a teenager (so brief, I don't think I got to second base guitar-speaking) I put the hobby aside for a couple of decades until I picked it up again in my late 30s as a means of keeping my head from exploding under the relentless pressures of my job. And hey - it worked!

If you're stressed or your brain is so full of personal and professional flotsam that it keeps you from seeing clearly - playing a musical instrument is for you! It helps you focus on something unrelated to your worries. It can also provide a social group (namely a band) in which you can bond in a way like no other.

Seriously - in a band setting you can be surrounded by people you would otherwise never associate with (because of their politics, smell or habitual heroin use) and then feel strangely incomplete without them when you're finished jamming and sitting in the car, surrounded by your gear, on that lonely ride home.

Before continuing, I should stress that none of my band mates from The Natural Disasters does heroin, nor do any of them emit a strong odor on a regular basis.

So what will this blog have to offer readers? I plan to have gear reviews and observations for guitar geeks, but also more general posts about music and life. I also plan to talk a lot about my days as a music writer for a magazine that no longer exists and which went belly-up owing me money.

The great thing about the demise of PULSE magazine is that I can scan funny, odd or quirky parts of the magazine and post them online. Believe me - the best way to describe PULSE was funny, odd and quirky - although not always on purpose.

As for the name PULLOFFS - well it's an allusion to a guitar technique where you finger a note on the fretboard, hit the string then release your finger. I view this blog as a way to release many of the stories and observations I carry around with me before they are lost to the ages. That's why I have used this as a title to my blog - that and the fact Guitarman, GuitarGuy, FretEnds, Headstock, MachineHeads and all the other guitar-oriented words and phrases were already taken.

Take care my friends. Until next time...