PureVolume

Hi y'all.... Right now it's quite dark in the hotel room, and thanks to the fact that I'm on FTS (“Full Tour Schedge” – adverb, def.: When a touring musician's brain believes that it's 6PM, when it is infact 2AM.) So here I am. Just a few minutes ago Andy, JW and I were sitting up, eating some cold pizza and watching some silly show on one of the numerous “educational” channels that stuffs its daily line-up with shows whose content deals exclusively with custom motorcycles and UFO’s. We are all exhausted, which makes the FTS a real bear in the honey aisle. So I’m going to try and wrap this dogger up quickly so I can take full advantage of sweet accommodations that JW has booked us for the night! As a side note, we just learned that we have become Elite Platinum members of a certain hotel chain thanks to our loyal patronage these past months. Elite Platinum status means that you get more pillows on the bed that you don’t know what to do with, as well as complimentary luggage tags with your name on them. JW is particularly excited about the latter perk. However, I had to remind him that your luggage must first have some sort of handle to attach the tag to. It’s a bit of a sad story, and I wish that I had a photo to really set up these next few sentences, but I don’t. So I’ll have to do my best to paint a picture in your mind using nothing more than my prose and a popsicle stick. First off, luggage on tour takes a real battering, and I’m not talking the kind that they put on a fresh piece of cod before throwing it in the deep fryer. It takes a serious beating. The other morning we were stowing our individual pieces of hand toted luggage into the trailer, and JW was having trouble getting the handle to push down. Push and pull as he might, the handle was stuck. Derek tried to help him by kicking at it and ramming it into the side of the trailer, but this only caused the flimsy aluminum tubing to bend. Not a smooth bend either, but rather a series of angles such that the hand looked like half of an octagon. For two days JW pulled that slovenly piece of luggarbage (another Heath Dictionary entry!) around by its curvilinear appendage, looking wholly dejected and utterly embarrassed, as he should have. Finally the aluminum rods, at the point of their greatest tensile stress and acute discomfort, decided to retire fully and make a clean break from the suitcase. Doing my best LeBron James impersonation, I jump-shotted the remnant into a nearby trash receptacle with a swoosh and a plop, nothing but bag and stale coffee! I patted young JW’s head and told him I was sending it to a better place like Florida or Samsonitonia. Really it was going to the dump. Problem solved, case closed. Now if we could just do something about the wheels on Marshall’s carry-on. It’s more like a drag-behind, similar to sled that American Indians would pull behind their horses. So on to the meat of my blog. We played Duke University tonight. It was, simply, an amazing, though strange experience. Read on. A few days before, we had found out that The Roots would also be performing at Duke. Now I have always been a casual fan of The Roots, ever since I saw them perform the song The Seed on SNL. Great song. So I was excited to see them live. The event was billed as an outdoor festival in the main courtyard of the dormitory area, with all the festivities tied around the fact that it was the last day of school at Duke. As most things go when it’s the celebratory “Last Day” of anything (be it Kindergarten, summer camp, the closing of the Marshall Field store in Chicago, jury duty or America’s dependence on foreign oil!) nearly everyone had gathered in the courtyard in a frenzied mob, guzzling cans/cases of Natural Light beer and playing Frisbee, since roughly 7:30AM. COLLEGE!!!!! We rolled up in Brimley, right behind the 3EB and Roots tour busses. The stage was outside as promised, but I had no idea the festival itself would be so big (check out the photo’s I’m posting!). The courtyard area between the dorms was about the size of two full football fields, with a scattering of trees, and most likely some grass, though it was partially hidden from view by Budweiser boxes and cans. We quickly unloaded and had a look around. Brimley looked stately, refined and educated as he was parked in front of the campus’s main Chapel and the statue of James Buchanan Duke, the college’s namesake. I complemented him, and gave a recommendation to be on his best behavior and not leak any oil on the pavement. We met our campus guide, her name escapes me, but she was nice and took us to our dressing room, which was on the first floor of the Few Building (I think) and overlooked the area near the stage. I could see that already people had laid out blankets and coolers in front of the stage, staking their claim for the night of music. The castle-like design of the building and the view made me feel a bit like a King. They had stocked us with really awesome assortment of chips and salsa, crackers, fruits and cheese, fixin’s for PB&J, water, soda, etc. Had there been some huge turkey legs and goblets of run on the table for me to sloppily eat while smattering them all over my face and clothes and talking to passers-by with my mouth open whilst chewing, my royal fantasy would have been complete. We obviously brought in a couple of cases of beer, because who comes to a party unprepared?? We all take a moment of rest and then strike out to look around the grounds. I brought the little video camera along to put together some sort of weblog. I had in mind one of those funny Conan-esque productions where I would try to make people uncomfortable by asking silly questions or getting them to do things on camera that they wouldn’t otherwise do. I mean, most of these kids were past the point of liquid happiness. It was tough though. Most of these kids were utterly engulfed and embroiled in trying to determine whether or not they had their right or left flip-flop on the correct foot, what the score was in the Frisbee football game they may or may-not have actually been participating in even though they were on the field of play or how to twist the cap off of their can of beer (did you get that one?). I’ll say it again - COLLEGE!!! My goal was to get kids to say “GO TARHEELS!” The trick was getting these kids to stop walking. They were loafing and lumbering along like the zombies on Night Of The Living dead towards the Quad, though instead of human flesh they were searching for PBR. I managed to detain one nice fellow that was wearing nothing but blue briefs underwear, though he had thoughtfully painted all of his skin bright blue, as well as his hair. He actually looked like the Duke blue devil. They only part of him that gave away the disguise was where the beer that didn’t make it into his mouth, which actually seemed to be 6 or 7 cans worth, had dribbled down his chin and chest, leaving just pale skin exposed to the sunny day. What a fun story he would have to tell about that tan line, that would look something akin to a red silhouette of a mushroom cloud. He had been drinking since 9AM, and was ready for more. I asked him, as a favor, if he could say something for the camera, which he seemed to be all in favor of until I uttered the phrase “GO TARHEELS.” I watched as the amusement and tolerance for oddly dressed strangers (in this case I’m talking about myself) drained from his face like the mercury falling in a thermometer. Luckily I anticipated his next move, and before he could charge the mound, I was off like a derby horse, around the corner. It was all quite reminiscent of the scene from the Karate Kid where Daniel LaRusso, wearing the hysterical shower curtain costume, puts the water hose on Johnny’s head and then runs away, with the alumni of the Kobra Kai chasing behind him screaming. If the Kobra Kai had been slightly more inebriated like my pursuer was, Daniel would have gotten away for sure. There would have been no need in him wasting his entire summer sanding Mr. Miagi’s back patio or washing his window’s, only to get his knee swept and broken in the All-Valley Karate Tournament, at the same time making a fool out of himself in front of Elizabeth Shue and dooming their relationship. Even as a youth, I could have told you she was going to drop that fool, Crane Kick or no Crane Kick. Wax On, Wax Off? Now I ask you, what kind of pillow talk is that? Wow, looking back over what I just wrote. *Shakes Head* Allow me to get back to the point. With my visions of an Oscar nomination for best documentary now dashed (for the time being), completely winded and left with nothing more than 38 seconds of out-of-focus footage and shin splints, I proceeded to ditch the Duke Video Project, aka Project Green Lightbeer, and focus instead on just having a nice time walking around and taking in….wait for it….COLLEGE!!!! I trod around a while, and soon it’s time for the first band to go on. Initially I thought it was going to be Lupe Fiasco, but I was told that the kids had voted on which acts they wanted, and the overwhelming write-in response on the ballot said “JOURNEY”. That’s right, Journey…..Forever Yours Wheel in the Sky Journey. Unfortunately the legit Journey was unavailable, so the festival board found a completely suitable Journey tribute band called Frontiers. I’m not kidding you, they sounded just like Journey, their singer being a dead ringer for Steve Perry, and I believe he could probably pull off a coup if he auditioned for a Bon Scott era AC/DC Tribute. Frontiers was a nice bunch of fellows, and the crowd ate them up. When they broke into Don’t Stop Believing, the crowd, now numbering in the thousands, were pumping their fists back and forth in the air to the rhythm, which was bad since their fists were wrapped around full cans of beer. So with every pump a wave of liquid hops and barley drenched the forward rows of concert goers. Luckily I had been able to avoid this Rocky Mountain Monsoon whent I went back up to our dressing room chateau, which also included two kids from the college acting as security monitors. When I mentioned to them, a friendly guy and girl, that I needed to change, they seemed unconcerned, which meant I was about to drop trou in front of complete strangers. I gave them one more subtle hint/warning that my pants were coming off, and they still sat there, so zip bang boom, I am without pants. Speaking of things that we were without, the doors on our dressing room were without locks, and the kids roaming up and down the hallways of this dorm were without sobriety, which meant a crowd of about 15 people walked in before I had put my clean pants back on. Talk about feeling like the proverbial hair in a Bruegger’s bagel. So I get my pants back up and the two security kids try to wrangle the party of dormies that had stormed our private room. Fifteen minutes later we were loading our gear onstage, praying that the crowd wouldn’t kill us, as they had all loved the Journey band, and were really there to see the Roots and 3EB, not us. But we were going to give it the old “college try”. I saw the bassist from Frontiers on the way down the stage ramp and I mentioned to him that the crowd loved them and he said “Yeah, makes me wish we had written those songs!” I replied with the exact same statement as I looked over the front rows that were growing more drunk, sweaty, and ready to hear 3EB. But you know what? They didn’t kill us. Derek got the into it at the start by saying “Put your hands in the air if you hate the Tarheels!!!” They all threw up their hands. Through the first three songs I prayed that Drunky Smurf wouldn’t recognize me from our earlier game of cat and mouse, and rush the stage looking for revenge. We played through our set and I believe we turned on some people and made some new fans. The crowd was really friendly and responsive, much more than I expected, especially since it wasn’t the typical concert going horde. They were there for the hits, and they allowed us to stuff their ears with something new and didn’t throw things at us nor boo, and most of them yelled and clapped. It was as much as we could have possibly asked for! Thanks DUKE! GO BLUE DEVILS! So, that’s what happened at the show…. I walk back to the dressing room, and I can see Noel, his face the color of crimson. Unofficial looking people are going in and out of the room. A kid with a back pack on walks in ahead of me and sits down at the table, which is now missing it’s former haul of snacks. I ask Andy what has happened and he responds that while we were on stage, our friendly security voyeurs had ditched their posts and left the door open for anyone to just come on in. And come on in they did, two fellas in particular, who managed to drink all of our beer, and then pass out on our couches. Absentstar’s version of Goldie Locks and the Three Bears. Except in this story Goldie Locks was actually two pre-law students and the Three Bears were Noel, Marshall and Andy. A member of the student security force made his way into the room, and I watched/chuckled as he was trying to shake one of the perps awake. On the count of three… 1…..2……3…..COLLEGE!!!! The head of the security team ordered us some pizza’s and we “found” some more liquid refreshments, so all was not lost. In fact everything turned out just fine. One of the highlights of the entire night for me was standing backstage as the Roots came on. Their intro was just fabulous, and I had goose bumps for about 4 minutes as they came onstage one by one, adding successive layers to their cover version of War’s “The World Is a Ghetto”. When Questlove ambled up the ramp and planted himself behind the drums, the crowd went mad. He gave them a little wave and then used his pick to fluff up his already bulbous afro. Captain Kirk played a blistering solo. When the Roots finished we were all buzzing about what amazing musicians they are, and how nice they are. I had a cool little conversation with Kirk, a fantastic gentleman for sure. Third Eye killed it as usual, and by the time they went on, the crowd was at the peak of it’s energy and, numbering by now somewhere over 8,000 people at least, they were ready for Stephan Jenkins and the crew to knock them into submission, which they did in typical 3EB fashion. It was an amazing moment to look over that sea of people as Stephan chanted “To the right Y’all, to the left Y’all!” in time with the song, and the entire crowd raised their arms in the air, swinging them back and forth in unison. WOW! As we exited the university, some kids stopped Marshall and I and said “Hey guys, amazing show today!” That one comment was the icing on the cake for me. Hope you all got to have some icing today too! Talk soon. Heath.absentstar As I wrote this I was jamming out to the Roots fantastic album - Game Theory!