My friend Bob Parsons has been writing down road and gig stories, and sent this to me a few weeks ago. I'd forgotten most of this and had a good laugh reading this......
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I have been very privileged to play with some real ballsy players. Let me just embarrass a dude right here and now.
I played 3 years with Son Henry. He never missed a gig, although he was sick a couple of times. here's a side note — don't hang with that guy when he's doin Dayquil! As I lug my stuff to the gig, still keeping it to one trip, I look back on all the stuff Son packed into his Suburban to get him through the night. Tremendous committment to a certain sound that he needed. Sometimes he'd bring 400 pounds of gear. And the guy was so road-tested. He broke a string on his lap steel at Blues on the Green, kept talking to the crowd the whole time he found a new string and replaced the broken one. The bnd is vamping through all this and I got so caught up in watching this lesson in multi-tasking, I totally forgot to play anything to help him out. Then he looks back and says "Play something will ya, and help me out here!". Duh, oh yeah, that's right, I'm a musician...
Besides, being sick, playing, playing through crappy electricity, microphones emitting blue sparks (come on, how do you go back and put your lips back on a mic that just hit you so hard it burnt your pickups off your strat?) Son calls me from the hospital the day we are to cap off Ocean Fest. He's strapped to a gurny, can't move his head, because some kid smucked Son in the backside with an S-10 pickup going 50mph — and he's talking about MAYBE needing help with his gear that night!!! Geez Louise... what's your excuse!
