I don't know where to begin.
All these months after the tour, there's so much I've forgotten.
So this Tales will be just a bit "impressionistic" – that is, filled with
things that left the biggest impression on me.
_________________________
I'll never forget, of course, returning
from the break between leg one and leg two, arriving by train into Washington,
D.C. a bit delayed but assured they'd hold the southbound train heading
for Florida and Virginia. They even gave the eight or so of us going
that way a track number. But guess what??? THEY DIDN'T hold
the train.
After much counter-hopping and contradictory
instructions (carrying my own luggage, of course) we were herded onto a
different train to Florida via Richmond, which is where I got off.
The Amtrak van then brought me to our hotel in Virginia Beach. I
liked the van driver, and she even saved me some time by driving directly
to the hotel. I remember thinking, "I'm here, finally."
Even though my room was on a higher
floor, I slept really well because I was so tired. On my way to breakfast
that morning, I saw a woman in a red (I think) top and cut cargo pants
(I think) with black horn-rimmed glasses (I think), but what I remember
for sure is that I knew right away that she was Carmella, our new singer/fiddler
taking Val's place. And, sure enough, it was, so I got to meet her
before her first show, which was the next day. She recognized me
at the same time, and I liked her right off. She's toured with Patti
Loveless.
Before sound check the next day,
Arnold, Kate and I ran a tape in the bus and rehearsed "Shed," "Traveling
Star" and one other song with Carmella. It was not as scary as I'd
thought, adding a new voice. The show itself fell into place naturally.
Singers table backstage: honey, lemon,
milk, water, tea, coffee, cough drops
All of a sudden, we were in Manhattan.
Ham and eggs for breakfast at my favorite coffee shop near St. Patrick's
was my first priority, and then Japanese for dinner on the West Side with
Phillip Ballou. I remember we talked a lot about Luther. Over
the next few days, we did what you do in New York -–walked, ate, walked
and ate.
Nicholas and his mom, Jamie, were
at the first New Jersey show (at the PNC Bank Arts Center, or Garden State
Arts Center for those of us seasoned enough to remember that), and his
grandfather Alex and his wife came to the second. Nicholas is a giant!
I know this would have sounded corny to him if I'd said it, but I've known
him since he was in diapers. I held him when he was six days old
back in 1988. Anyway I was glad they were there. Both shows
were high energy.
Next it was back to Pittsfield and
more killer breakfasts plus great thrift shopping and, oh yes, our show
at Tanglewood. Then Camden, where I couldn't breathe because it was
brutally hot, in the high 90s at show time with the heat index over 100!
"Excuse me, sir... how do you get to Tanglewood???"
_________________________
Boston was hot, too, but not as
bad, and inside the hotel lobby the air conditioning was turned way up.
So, the heat does not account for the decision-making process of the person
who created – no, conceived – no, SCARED up what I saw in front of the
elevators. It looked like some bizarre 7-foot-tall tropical drink
but in fact was intended as a kind of planter décor on a big table.
It had three tiers, each with wet stones, one – count 'em – ONE floating
orchid or tropical something, and a stream of water literally
peeing down from the top. All they needed to complete the nightmare
was a live frog.
And since the entire mess was outside
the main elevators, we saw it every time we went in and out – and we were
there for almost a week. All I want to know is what dizzy queen did
this? And how much did they charge? Whoever they were, they
were massively insane and had to be on acid that day.
The Taylor clan collected themselves
on both nights in Boston, and the shows were good, especially the second
night. As we were singing "Carolina in My Mind," I got to calculating
how many times I've performed that with James. If you figure in the
first seven years I toured with him, and these last fourteen and included
rehearsals, it's probably darn close to 1,500 times.
I got recognized by JT fans twice
in one day on the streets of Boston, and it's very rare that I get spotted
by them at all outside of the venues. The first time was as I was
coming out of a 7-11 Market, of all places, eating a lime popsicle, and
the people who saw me had just seen the show, not even there in Boston
but in Florida where they lived. The second time was inside Filene's.
As I was going down the stairs, this woman said, "Hey!" so I turned back
to
her. She then said, "James!" (meaning, "you sing with James Taylor"),
and I went, "Um-hmm!" and we talked for a bit. It was funny.
The venue in New Hampshire was indoors,
thank God, and I'd never played there before, but what was most memorable
about that evening was meeting John Kerry, who joined us during dinner.
I liked how he came up and introduced himself to each of us and talked
for a bit. I was impressed with how real and friendly he was, a really
good guy. Later that night at intermission, Allison Krauss and some
of her band came back to say hi to James. She's an "interesting"
gal.
Speaking of fiddlers, I did like
the sound of Carmella's fiddle in songs like "My Traveling Star," "Up on
the Roof" and "Copperline." I remember how I had to stay so aware
of the fiddle when it was on its little stand so I wouldn't crash into
it. There were definitely a few close calls. It still felt
a little funny looking to my right and seeing Carmella's dark hair instead
of Valerie's blondness.
I had friends at Jones Beach the
first night, including Andrew, Karon and Robert with his family.
Another cool thing I remember about that first night was getting a message
from Lenny Welch, who sang the original "Since I Fell For You" and "Ebb
Tide." I returned his message from the venue. He had called
because we have some mutual friends, and we discussed a little business.
I've never met him, but I've always loved his work.
We were off on the 4th of July in
New York City, and all I can say is that it was very noisy.
Jones Beach was so windy at the
show for the next night's concert. The sound check was long and difficult
because the wind was blowing so hard that it made weird sounds in the mics,
and the stands were actually blowing over. The angle of the afternoon
sunlight added to the offbeat feeling.
The second leg ended with a quick
trip up to Saratoga where we stayed in the same hotel as during the 2001
tour, and happily, I again met the painter who I had met two years ago
when he was painting another hotel's Christmas card. It's such a
small world, because both times I'd run into him really randomly.
I liked this venue (the Saratoga
Performing Arts Center) despite the annoying mosquitoes because they had
great food at our dinner and tons of pianos. I played and sang to
myself quite a bit before the show.
As I got ready for the upcoming
break where Arnold and I were going to stay in New York City, I couldn't
have known what an interesting week it would be.
_________________________
I had a really enjoyable week off
in New York, hanging with my friends Lorri, Karon, Phillip and Ula, and
I even saw Doug briefly.
I got back to my hotel room late
Friday night at the end of that week, and there was a message on the hotel
room phone from JT management asking how my inner ear thing was doing (it
had flared up a little from playing the inner ear monitors too loud).
The message ended with a reference to the next leg, and it sounded as though
she was saying "This will be your next last leg" or "your last next leg,"
and I was confused, so I called back, but it was late Friday night.
So, I had to wait until Monday to find out. Needless to say, it was
a long weekend.
But on Sunday, Phillip and I went
to visit Luther. I ended up staying the entire day, visiting, reminiscing,
singing along to his CDs, and just being with him. When we played
The
Essential Luther, which had just been released, we traded memories
of all those sessions, each of us trying to remember which songs I sang
on. We listened to old Aretha music, the Sweet Inspirations, and
Dionne. And I still haven't kept my promise to send the Shirelles
and Blossoms CDs to him. (Sorry, Luther, will do very soon.)
The visit with Luther seemed to
put things in perspective, and suddenly the outcome of the upcoming Monday
phone call wasn't going to be as important as it had seemed on Friday.
I realized that keeping your health is always more important than keeping
a job for another few weeks.
_________________________
My last leg began in Hartford on
Wednesday, July 15 after a crazy morning leaving New York when the cars
that were supposed to pick up Arnold, some other band members who lived
in New York and me didn't show up. That was a first, because the
JT transportation machine is always so efficient. There'd been a
communication mix up, but we managed to make it to our tour buses which
then drove us to Hartford in plenty of time for sound check.
It was fun meeting Andrea Zonn,
who was there to start the rest of the tour (we'd been told that Carmella
was filling in until Andrea could get there). Like the New York transportation
snafu, this was the first tour where people – band and crew included –
were coming and going.
Andrea's a great singer and fiddler,
but like with Carmella it was scary doing the first show when the four
of us had never sung together or rehearsed as a section. But the
show went well, and Andrea played so beautifully, especially on "My Traveling
Star."
She and I ended up becoming breakfast
buddies totally by accident. For the first few mornings she was on
the tour, our body clocks were in sync apparently, and we always ran into
each other at breakfast in the hotel restaurants. So we bonded, and
I talked her ear off (and possibly drove her crazy). She had fabulous,
fascinating Nashville stories, and if I remember right, she told me that
she grew up with Allison Krauss and they played in fiddle competitions
together as children and are good friends. I loved hearing about
Andrea's life and all the studio work she's done and all the great artists
she's worked with. Her solo album had just been released, and I was
anxious to hear it. When I did, I loved it!
After Hartford, we did Buffalo,
and then it was Toronto, which I'd been dreading, convinced I'd be felled
by SARS. Everyone assured me we'd be OK, and Helen in Canada had
even written an impassioned plea to understand that it was perfectly safe
to visit, as indeed it proved to be. My friend John came to see the
show, and I was glad to see him. He'd been responsible for producing
the CD booklet for my BACK TO BLUE-EYED SOUL CD, for which I'll
always be grateful.
In Detroit, some of my cousins and
my niece Tanya came to the show, and it was fun seeing them. In Hershey,
where there's really nothing to talk about except chocolate -- and kids
buzzed out on chocolate --, the show was done without an intermission because
of a huge rainstorm. Also, I remember that our drummer Steve didn't
feel well.
_________________________
As I started collecting boxes to
pack my stuff up to ship home, I remember thinking how fast this leg had
been going. Among all the other feelings I was having was how glad
I was not to have to be going to Red Rocks where the altitude and what
I thought was vertigo in 2001 had made for a Molotov cocktail in terms
of my balance. I was really sorry, though, to be missing Sally and
Dean's Tranquillity Project benefit in Boulder the day before the Red Rocks
show, because I'd really wanted to support that. But I'm so glad
that I found out this tour that if I keep my in-ear monitors at a low enough
level, I will never have that problem – which in fact wasn't vertigo at
all – again. (Thank you, Seth!)
Next was Columbus, then we went
to Indianapolis, where we got in really early, and I started missing sleep.
Just as I finally dozed off, I got a call from Jason Scheff, and not only
was he in town with Chicago but he was also right there in our hotel.
We had breakfast, and he insisted that I come to his show that night, which
I did with Michael Landau. We rode to the gig on Chicago's bus, in
fact, and had a great visit with Jason and Bill Champlain. Our show
was going to be at that same venue the next night, and it was interesting
being in Row 20 or so and feeling so far away from the stage (visually).
But when I was on that same stage the next night, the people in the 20th
row seemed so close.
Steve missed three shows because
he wasn't well, but miraculously his drum tech, Scott, took his place and
did an amazing job. Steve, all better, came back in Cincinnati, the
night my distant cousin was there and my friend TJ too, after which we
left town bound for Minneapolis via what we thought would be a 12-hour
ride followed by a day off.
No such luck.
In the middle of the night, two
hours into our trip, I woke up again, and we were stopped. I thought
we were at a rest stop. A little while later, I woke up again, and
we were still stopped, so I went up to Geoff, our driver, and asked, "Why
are we still at this truck stop?" He said, "David, sit down.
It's a long story. We're not at a truck stop," and then I noticed
that we were on the freeway with all the cars and other vehicles around
us. Parked. Not moving. And there we stayed – because
of two horrible accidents (neither involving us) – for the next nine or
so hours. While helicopters, haz-mat trucks and ambulances showed
up, Geoff and I talked, pretty much all night, mostly about singers including
Dusty Springfield, Madeline Bell, Kokomo and Sandie Shaw. We found
that we had a lot of musical tastes in common, so I gave him two of my
CDs, the ones I had by Madeline Bell and Sandie Shaw.
When daylight came, everyone else
woke up, on went the coffee, and needless to say, we had a long day.
At about 10:30 a.m., we started moving again and got to Minneapolis that
evening, about 12 hours late. I slept very soundly, which was good,
because after that, over the next week, I got very little sleep at all.
The Minneapolis venue, Xcel Energy
Center, was new to us, and the acoustics were tremendous, really, really
good. It was the best sound check we'd had all tour. Someone
told me that it's Pavarotti's favorite place to sing. Jimmy Johnson's
family was there, and it's always great to see them. Yay for pancake
parties!
This is a table in the hospitality area.
What really blew me away is that the pattern
of the tablecloth is the exact same pattern of the wallpaper in my grandmother's
house when I was a kid.
The fabulous, world-renowned – in
my world anyway – Diana Grasselli came to the show, and she looked remarkable.
She was in Desmond Child and Rouge, and she sang on my recording of "Change
All of That" and a bizillion hits for people like Cher who Desmond produced.
Lynn Pitney and her, they never age. I just want to choke them.
Also, my brother, Dean, connected
me with some of his friends from his days as a touring musician way back
when, Steve and Fred (and their wives). I'd met both in around 1962
or 63 when Dean and the two of them and a few other guys were in The Casinos
and Danny and the Juniors. They'd played in a twist club in Toledo,
and I remember that my family drove down to see them. These were
the days when the bands performed, then drove themselves to their next
gig in a station wagon, pulling a trailer holding their instruments, basically
never sleeping. Steve told me the most scary but hilarious story
involving my brother and his driving "abilities" that I'd never heard,
and I got a good laugh over that. Mind you, this goes back 40 years.
I have to say how great the Guest
Services and Concierge people were at the Minneapolis hotel. They
were so helpful, above and beyond, and one of them even gave me his black
tie when I couldn't find one in a store.
I remember getting a FedEx from
home that day with tons of things to do and bills to pay, plus two CDs
that Fonda Feingold had sent with songs from her upcoming album and her
off-Broadway show. They were brilliant, absolutely brilliant.
Arnold and I had done backgrounds for an album she'd done in 1978, plus
a live gig with her at Reno Sweeney's years ago.
I found my final going-away gifts
for James and the other singers at a Kinko's, of all places, to supplement
the cool antique toys I'd gotten in Pittsburgh.
_________________________
My last show was in Fargo, North
Dakota, where I'd never been. As we got off the bus to go into the
hotel at somewhere around 3:30 or 4 a.m., I was amazed at the incredibly
clean quality of the air, and it was cool, not humid like it usually is
on a Midwestern August night. James was right behind me, and we were
both struck by it. I said, "Woah, pure oxygen," and he agreed, saying
he didn't think he'd ever been there before. I remembered that this
was how summer used to feel when I was a boy.
Since I'd slept four hours already,
I pretended that it was really morning, so I went across the street to
a truck stop-type store and restaurant. I had breakfast – great steak
and eggs – and shopped for souvenirs and more gifts. Amazingly, I
found rare CDs by a lot of the somewhat obscure artists that Geoff and
I had just discussed that previous night when we were stuck on the freeway.
I can't stress enough how unusual it was to find a replacement for the
Madeline Bell CD so fast and in such an unexpected place.
As I was crossing the highway, the
sun rose spectacularly, and I returned to the hotel where I wrote myself
a letter filled with my thoughts about the upcoming show, my last with
James. Then I slept for a while, and took a bath (while I was awake,
of course), and by that time it was noon. I was relatively calm,
but as we traveled to the Fargodome and went to our dressing rooms, everything
that I was thinking about and feeling hit me and brought me up 1,000 notches.
It couldn't be anything less than completely insane. I had to get
grounded, vocalize and get ready for the show so I could do a great job
for the people who paid to see it. I had to get the last things out
of my wardrobe and into the suitcase and onto the bus (six trips at least
in an arena that seemed as big as Rhode Island). I had to remember
to keep my in-ear monitors and give back the battery pack. I had
to keep in mind all the scheduling details of riding on the tour bus back
to Minneapolis and renting a car for the drive home. Etc., etc.,
etc., scribbled note after scribbled note. To say nothing of how
it felt to be leaving a musical partnership I'd been in for most of my
adult life.
In that one night, it was impossible
to find everyone in the crew to thank them and say goodbye, although I
did my best.
Before the show, the band members
were busy taking group pictures with me, which was making what already
was a big, uncomfortable deal even bigger and more uncomfortable.
I was still taking stuff to the bus. Time was racing. It would
not slow down, and I couldn't seem to get stuff completed.
Sadly I remembered the old days
and how simple it was. Just Arnold and me and James and Kootch and
Clarence and Russ and Lee. Sanborn once in a while. No revolving
voices. No passing my own inspection, whatever that means.
All over Europe, the UK, Australia,
Japan, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Singapore. Lear Jet tours (yikes!).
700,000 people in Central Park for No Nukes.
Rick Marotta, Leah, Billy Payne,
Waddy. Carly, Tamara, Trudy, Kate, Alex, Hugh, Liv, Ben, Sally.
Eric, Peter, Gloria, Ira, Terry, Cathy K., Rosa, Kathryn. Clifford,
Russ, Ted, Brian, Kary. Gary B., Barbara R. Shelly S.
Rehearsals on the Vineyard, the barn in Squibnocket, Ag Hall, Vineyard
Haven, Tanglewood. Kim, the twins. Carlos, Don.
Mama and the show I chose to do
the day after she died and the show on her funeral day when Jimmy Buffet
showed up.
Summer Tour 77. Fall 77 in
L.A. Missin' Twenty Grand with James singing background for
me. The sessions for Flag, Dad Loves His Work, That's Why I'm Here,
Never Die Young, New Moon Shine, Hourglass, October Road. The
Live
album.
The gold coin James gave me for
a birthday present a long time ago, and the silver teaspoons he gave me
for my birthday in 2001.
All the amazing friends I've met
all over this country and the world as a result of being on the road… I
could list pages and pages.
In less than five minutes, 27 years
of memories were coming back to me.
And before I knew it, Steve and
Luis were playing their intro. This would be a first. I'd done
concerts where there was a last show and the tour finished, but I'd never
done a tour where I was finished before the last show.
I stayed high at first, but soon
I was centered, and I felt something being lifted. And maybe in the
end it was my own expectations of myself.
I remember the audience actually
as being a little tough to please.
_________________________
Back on the bus after the show,
I organized my bunk and suitcases and gave out my gifts. When we
got back to the Minneapolis hotel at around 3:30 a.m., we all said our
half-assed farewells (I'm not very good at saying goodbye), and I got ready
to go to Avis. Unfortunately, I learned that Avis doesn't open until
7 a.m., so I passed the time in the lobby going over the Map Quest maps
that Mark had printed out for me with all the route options I could take.
(Thanks, Mark, you are the best tour manager!)
At around 6, James emerged from
the elevator to leave for his very early flight, having slept for just
2 or so hours. I'd had that option, but I'd rather stay awake straight
through. Anyway, since we'd already said goodbye, it was kind of
anti-climactic.
Finally, I was on my way to Avis
at the airport. Note to self: why would an Avis at an airport,
for God's sake, in a big city like Minneapolis, not open for rentals until
7???
As I pulled out of the airport,
it started to pour, monsoon-level rain, and it didn't let up all day.
It was like something from another planet. It was like driving through
a car wash with unrelenting water everywhere. Hail, lightning, you
name it.
Finally, by Chippewah Falls, Wisconsin,
nine hours later in a trip that should have taken more like two, it stopped,
just as if I'd driven into another dimension. It was sunny, 95 degrees,
and people were dressed in shorts! I stopped and, yes, I did a little
shopping (mostly really cool antiques).
Ten miles later, the rain started
again. "Will I ever get out of this tour alive?" is what I was thinking.
And the rains lasted all day, all night and the next day as I drove.
At around 2 in the morning, in Escanaba, I gave up and stopped at a hotel.
This boat was out in the middle of NO-WHERE
in the U.P.!
(Shelly, is this your new office?????
Ha ha)
The next day, everything had changed.
The weather was great! More shopping, back in the car and off to
the Mackinac Bridge, around 120 miles away. Driving east, Lake Michigan
was on my right, and the rays of the sun reflecting on the water were intense.
The wildflowers, the sailboats, the little stands along the road selling
homemade trout fishing flies, it was all so amazing, and everyone was moving
at a pace much slower than I was.
Although I was born near there,
I'd never seen this area, and that's why this drive was so important to
me. In a way, I was looking for my roots.
Soon I was crossing the Mackinac,
which I think is this country's longest suspension bridge, and when you
come off it, you're in the Lower Peninsula. Three or four more hours,
and I was home.
It's funny. Earlier, during
a phone call a couple of days before Fargo, my sister Julie had said, "Just
do the shows, get in your car and drive. When you cross the border
into Michigan, you'll be OK. When you hear the kids' voices, you'll
be fine." And she was right.
Over the next weeks, I realized
that standing on a stage performing is inherently unnatural. Sleeping
in a different bed almost every night is crazy-making. Sleeping on
a moving tour bus five out of seven nights a week for six months is just
goofy. And this tour was all that and more.
It was fun, it was great, it was
sad, it was happy, there were fat days, skinny days, shiny-shoes days,
good-hair days, bad-hair days, too-much-blush days, great-audience days,
not-so-great audience days, forgot-to-buy-a-birthday-present days, left-a-shirt-at-the-hotel-cleaners
days, good sound days, bad sound days, hoarse days, great-voice days, bad
days, good days. I have to remember, sometimes this is the way the
music business is. Because it is, after all, a business. But
it's my business, and it's the life I've chosen.
DAVID
P.S. When I walked
into my house where I hadn't been since the last break (only two months
ago, but it felt like nine), the first thing I saw, laying on the kitchen
table, was Just A Stone's Throw Away, Valerie Carter's first CD.
And I remember being bewildered, thinking to myself, "You know, there's
only one Valerie Carter."
Copyright
© 2008 David Lasley
