Music

I’ve been working on lists lately – lists of things that happened in the last decade as well as a list of things I need to pack with me for my trip onto the spaceship in anticipation of the world ending in 2012 just like Roland Emmerich and the Myans predicted.

One list that crossed my mind when talking with the guys in my band was a list of the weirdest gigs I’ve ever done as a musician. I’ll leave the “weirdest gigs I’ve done as a stunt gigalo” for 12/13/12 assuming we all survive…we won’t.

I’ve been through some pretty adventurous stuff in my 25 years of playing music. The 10 below represent some of the more interesting moments in Jeff Balke the Rock Star history, if by “rock star” you mean “dude who tried to be awesome playing music despite never owning spandex OR leather pants.” Enjoy.

Jack in the Box Grand Opening

Yes, I played a Jack in the Box Grand Opening in a little town just outside of Houston and my payment was a chicken sandwich. The Jack in the Box is still there. The band is not. ‘Nuff said.

Ice House on New Year’s Eve

One of my last shows with the band The Basics was a New Year’s Eve show at an ice house that is now a transmission shop of Shepherd…seriously. I remember it being really cold and pretty much everyone in the house except maybe the drummer and myself were blind ass drunk. The gig was fine, but the fun began immediately after. Since everyone was drunk and wanted to continue the party, I was charged with returning most of the gear to the rehearsal room…alone. Try making the NYE drive down I-10 into downtown at 2:30am with drunk people flying by you at 100mph. It was the last of a long line of NYE gigs and I haven’t played on that night since.

No One in Danbury, Connecticut

Touring when you aren’t famous is a funny thing. You line up gigs and it’s pretty much a crap shoot as to whether the club is even decent, let alone if the show is well promoted. Orange is in was on the road in 2008 playing on the east coast playing to mostly sold out venues (HA HA HA!!! I got you!!! Oh, man, you should’ve seen the look on your face!). Anyway, we were booked at a club in Danbury, Connecticut, home of the fightin’ Mad Hatters of the Eastern Professional Hockey League…ahem. We got lost on our way there from Jersey and a trip that should have taken about an hour took almost 3. We got there and there was not a single solitary soul in the building. It was as if we had walked into a bar that was still under construction. Oh, did I mention that the bar didn’t actually have a bar…or a liquor license? No?

Ft. Worth Festival Cold Front and Sick Drummer

One of the most painful gigs of my life was with orange is in when we played a festival in Ft. Worth. We were really excited as we got a great slot at 7pm. Of course, a bizarre cold front blew through (this was in early May, mind you) so we faced a stiff 40-degree wind blowing in our faces and a crowd of exactly 2 people – a friend of mine and the festival promoter. To make matters worse, our drummer at the time was deathly ill and finally had to stop forcing me to pick up the acoustic guitar and finish out a brutal set in the freezing cold. Awesome!

The Bash

There are gigs that define you and other gigs that you hope are never mentioned again. This gig would fall into the latter category. One of my dear friends of many years threw a party aptly named “The Bash.” This particular year, it was being held in a warehouse on the southwest side of town and apparently everyone in 5 surrounding counties was invited. I got up to “jam” with several friends and we proceeded to butcher BADLY versions of Rock and Roll by Led Zeppelin and Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple. I think we may have tried in vein to pull off something else, but the cops showed up and mercifully arrested enough people to make the place a ghost town. I remember that when we played, we all played in different keys and at different tempos, which would be very avante garde had anyone actually known what that meant.

NORML Benefit

In some ways, I had hoped that National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML) would have some decent dialogue at this fund raiser I played with a former band. I should’ve known that it would be as incoherent as the barely grammatically correct name of the organization. After several rambling speeches about “the man taking our weed,” we got up to play to a very stoned crowd that included several teenagers happily smoking with their parents. I think everyone in the band except for me took a hit from a highly potent joint the president of the organization offered them. The end result was the first couple songs at half speed and what can only be described as creative choices of song and lyric arrangement.

Denver Harbor Ice House

I would strongly recommend against ever playing an ice house in Denver Harbor. That’s all I have to say.

1am on a Wednesday

When you take the stage at 1am on a Wednesday night (or Thursday morning, if you prefer), it is logical to expect a rather sparse crowd. When we finally crawled on stage at this now-defunct venue on Washington Avenue, the only two people left in the bar were the sound man and the bartender, both of whom politely clapped as we made our way through a sleepy set – and I mean that literally as our drummer slept in a van outside for an hour before the show during a lengthy set from a psychedelic band (nothing like psychedelia to warm up a mid-week crowd!). To our singer’s credit, the first words out of his mouth during the opening bars of our first song were, “Good morning!”

Post Party

One fateful Cinco de Mayo weekend, I was booked to do two gigs. The first was tepid barbeque party at one of the Houston Community College annexes. Nothing great, but not terrible either. The second was a late afternoon show in the parking lot of a large club on Richmond. The band set up on a flat bed trailer with a massive sound system. There was a spread of food and discount drinks. So, why was this gig so unfortunate? Well, it was a party for the former employees of the Houston Post who had learned only days earlier they had lost their jobs as the venerable daily newspaper shut its doors for good. To say that the most depressing sight I’ve ever seen at a gig was a banquet table set back 100 yards from the stage with about 5 sad people standing around it while we played would be like saying the move Pearl Harbor was kinda sucky.

Kamikaze Pete

When I was asked by a drummer friend to do a gig with her and my guitar player because it would be easy and it paid – including rehearsals – I figured it would be an easy gig. What ensued was one of the strangest experiences of my life, music or otherwise. We rehearsed several times in the basement of an office building with Pete (Kamikaze Pete as he was known to most), a long gray haired gentleman who had spent most of his adult life playing bluesy hard rock and smoking peyote (I assume). He told us odd stories of working at the Renaissance Festival as a “limerick artist” reciting for us what seemed like an hour-long poem that started with “there once was a man from Nantucket who kept his brain in a bucket.” All of the rehearsal was supposedly for a live recording in a cool venue, though the exact venue was not revealed to us immediately. Right before the gig, it was revealed the show was at a bar on a Sunday afternoon, a weird time for a live recorded show, but whatever. I got directions and made my way to a BIKER BAR about halfway to Galveston. The show was actually a poorly executed open mic “afternoon” where we were forced to stumble our way through the songs because Pete forgot most of the arrangements. We were later accused of screwing everything up and didn’t get paid for the show. Seriously.

I don’t go to a ton of concerts that require me using Ticketmaster or Live Nation to acquire tickets. But, on occasion, like going to see Wilco in Dallas on October 8, I have to venture into the great, evil abyss.

Today, I purchased my tickets for Wilco at $30 each (a very reasonable amount) and paid $84. Did I get a discount on three tickets? Uh, no. I paid $24 in fees you can see below:

Tax I get. Order processing fee – printing and mailing the tickets – I also get. I could see paying an additional $5 or even $10 for this service even though it actually costs MORE for me to print my tickets myself and LESS to have them shipped to me in 7 business days (WTF?). But, $8.60 PER TICKET for “convenience charges???” What the hell is convenient about that?

I know Live Nation is doing fee-free Wednesdays. Great. But, these are probably going to sell out fairly quickly, so I don’t have much choice.

It sucks for the band too because they don’t get a nickel of this and they probably even have to give Ticketmaster a cut of ticket sales. What a scam.

Well, it was bound to happen. UPDATE

According to the Press, Walter’s is moving, NOT closing. Good news for live music fans. It doesn’t save Washington Avenue, but it’s something. Thank you for all the comments here and on Broken Record. Keep the faith.

Craig Hlavaty from the Houston Press reported on Twitter that Walter’s on Washington will close down after Halloween and has promised more details tomorrow.

This should really come as no shock to anyone who has been watching the slow, painful demise of the Washington Avenue corridor. What was once a promising hot bed of live music venues has turned into a long stretch of douchtastic venues for Hummer-driving popped collar assholes.

Everyone needs a place to drink and act like a moron. It’s just a shame that this stretch of road has to suffer the fate once relegated to Richmond Avenue between 610 and Chimney Rock.

For those who are unaware, Washington Avenue has, over the years, been home to some of the city’s most important music venues. Here’s a partial list. Feel free to comment with others.

Rockefeller’s

One of the all-time great music venues in our city’s history, Rockefeller’s hosted a wealth of artists from Garth Brooks (early days) and Suzanne Vega to BB King, Tower of Power and Chick Corea. Built out of an old bank building, the unique two-story interior was often packed for multiple shows. When acts started looking for larger venues where they only needed to do one show (crowd size issues were sometimes a problem for the venue that would be an IDEAL size today), Rockefeller’s died.

What is there now? A wedding and corporate events venue

The Fabulous Satellite Lounge

One of my favorite all-time places to see bands in Houston, “the Satellite” as everyone referred to it was a big, open, loud room with a great sound system and plenty of killer bands to pack the place. In some ways, Satellite was the precursor to the Houston version of the Continental Club and hosted a lot of the same acts. I played MANY shows there in the mid-90′s and always had a good time.

What is there now? A salon

Club Hey Hey

Directly across the street from Rockefeller’s, Club Hey Hey was one of Houston’s preeminent blues bars for a number of years. On one particular night, BB King playing Rockefeller’s and Albert Collins (a native Houstonian) playing Hey Hey met in the middle of Washington for a jam session with the doors to both clubs wide open. Now, all we can expect is two drunk jerkoffs standing in the middle of the street having a text-off. Brilliant.

What is there now? Apartment complex

Rhythm Room

One of the more recent venues to die off (just a few years back), the Rhythm Room was one of those places that seemed like a perfect music venue. It was essentially a long hallway with a stage at the far end, pool tables and bar in the back. It had a great sound system, was built for easy load-in/out and had a backstage set up. It never seemed to gain ground on venues like the Engine Room (now dead as well) and the taxes on the property were probably too high, so they folded.

What is there now? An empty building still for lease.

Tones

A tiny blues club next to Walter’s, Tones worked under several names when Walter’s was still an ice house, but it was a great week night hang where you could hear some killer blues music.

What is there now? A small non-live music bar.

Cosmo’s

Cool little converted diner. I remember doing a bunch of gigs there and seeing some really cool musicians play there. The bar staff was always friendly and there was always good live music on the weekends and a jam night on Wednesday’s. Thanks for the help with remembering the name!

What is there now? The Porch Swing

The Vatican

In the mid-90′s, the Vatican was THE place to go see live alt bands. Such notables as Pearl Jam and Nine Inch Nails came through the venue that was once a pretty majestic church. It was a HUGE venue and a competitor for Numbers that just didn’t survive, most likely because the bills on a venue that size must have been brutal. It was at the far west end of Washington and I remember it fondly because their phone number was only 1 off from mine in those days and I regularly got wrong numbers meant for them. When someone wanted to know who was playing and didn’t listen when I told them it was a wrong number, I usually made up band names like the Cheesy Weasels and the Stinky Monkeys. You’re welcome.

What is there now? Office space

The Bon Ton Room/Fat Cats/Mary Jane’s

Last year, I was dating someone who said that her friends wanted to meet her at a new bar called the Pearl Bar, so we went. What I found made me ill (both of us, actually). What was once the Bon Ton Room, home to the earliest incarnations of the Arc Angels among others, and, ultimately, Mary Jane’s, was now a packed, hot bar filled with yuppies – and that was before the velvet rope went up. Since it’s opening, I’ve often hoped the hipsters at Walter’s across the street and the yuppies at Pearl Bar would meet in the middle of the street like some sort of modern day West Side Story and fight it out.

What is there now? Pearl Bar

Walter’s on Washington

Finally to Walter’s, a place I played both in its current form and when it was an ice house. Over the past few years it’s been a source of controversy with over zealous cops and annoying NIMBY neighbors and let’s be honest, it was never exactly an ideal music venue given its size and dimensions. But, it was pretty much the only live music venue in town that still had that ratty, run down, indie music vibe outside of Rudyard’s and maybe Numbers on a non-goth night. It was also the only venue that bid on cool indie shows here in Houston and losing it most definitely hurts.

What is there now? Who knows

Anyone old enough knows this process is sadly common in Houston. Even before my time, Market Square, a once thriving live music spot, turned into a bunch of bars for people who worked downtown. Party on the Plaza became country and cover band-centric. Richmond Avenue started out with live original music, but eventually de-evolved into Sam’s Boat and whatever remnants of the slimy coke-fest are still there.

Some of us even had high hopes for Main Street, but clearly we were mistaken.

Houston is simply not original music friendly. As a city, we don’t support live original music or demand that venues remain open. Washington Avenue, a quirky, ethnic street filled with tiny taco joints, funky warehouse lofts and pawn shops is slowly gentrifying into a plastic, vacant hell hole.

What’s worse is that, like all the other places before it, it will eventually be abandoned too. It’s not like Reign or Pearl Bar are going to be here in 20 years. When people find a cooler place to hang or when there are one too many drunken shootings along the gaudy, townhome-laden side streets, everyone will move on to some other area and infest it with the same crap that is now invading Washington Avenue.

RIP, Walter’s. You made it longer than the rest. Kudos.

Photo via Katharine Shilcutt

Where have I been? I haven’t posted here in almost a month and that makes Baby Jesus cry. At least, that’s what he told me when we were smoking peyote the other night. Ok, that wasn’t Jesus or a baby. It was this guy who sells me peyote. I think his name is Frank or Pierre or Johnny Red Bull or something like that.

Anyhoo, I need to get back into the swing of things – and by swing I don’t mean one of those sex contraptions they have in Thailand or Saigon or Beaumont, you weirdos. God, what am I going to do with you freaks if every time I mention “swing” or “porn” or “baby goats” or “church,” you get all pervy on me? Sheesh.

In lieu of my standard, “Hey, look at how awesome I am because I totally got a serious bid on my house and, if all goes well, I could be homeless by August!” I think I’ll pimp all you nerds for suggestions.

For those that don’t know, I have this rock and roll outfit (a band, not guyliner and a scarf, though I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, hipster?) I play with and we are working on our third record. It will be released either end of this year or first of 2010 – no, we aren’t naming it Space Odyssey; that’s so nine years ago – and being typical musicians, we are broke and begging for money.

Here’s the deal. We’ve decided to do a kind of telethon/raffle/auction/sell your mom into slavery type deal to raise money for recording, but without the annoyingly dulcet tones of public radio harping on you to send in $20 to receive get one of the dusty autographed copy’s of Carl Kasell‘s autobiography he has sitting in like 50 boxes in his basement (just kidding, Carl – I love you!). In our little whatchamacrazy, we’re going to give you some primo shit that may or may not include peyote.

What I need is some help from you guys deciding on what to do for folks who are willing to pony up some dough – the weirder the better. For example, $250 gets you drunk on Lone Star at the Big Top with us and then we head to midtown to make fun of douchebags. Maybe for $100, we take a picture with you in front of the abandoned lot where Astroworld used to be and buy you lunch at Chili’s – if you’re lucky – then leave you on 610 with a cardboard sign that says “drive me home for sexy good time.”

The possibilities are endless.

You guys are the creative, nerdy types who live to come up with crazy shit like this, right? So, get crackin’! Come up with some crazy ways we can make like $5000 for our record. If you come up with a good one, we will thank you in our own “special” way if you know what I mean and I hope you do because I don’t have a clue what that means and I’ll need you to explain it to me.

Oh, and thanks for your help. You’re sweet and kinda cute. In fact, how YOU doin’?

You know I don’t ask you guys for much. Sure, there was that time when I kept shouting, “BOOBS! I WANT TO SEE YOUR BOOBS!” at that church social, but in my defense, there were some pretty awesome boobs there and you know you want to see them too, so pipe down already.

But, this isn’t about boobs – not directly anyway. This is about Paste Magazine.

I love music and Paste is probably the only magazine I care to read on that particular subject. But, they are struggling and need some help.

The global recession has taken its toll on Paste as advertisers have slashed their spending. We are turning to our readers to help bridge the gap. Even a small contribution can make a big difference.

Join 75+ of our favorite artists in the campaign to save Paste and get rare & exclusive tracks as a thank you.

Artists include The Decemberists, Neko Case, She & Him, Cowboy Junkies, Of Montreal, Indigo Girls, Jayhawks, String Cheese Incident, G. Love, Josh Rouse, The Hives, Matthew Sweet, The Avett Brothers, Joe Henry, John Roderick of The Long Winters, Over the Rhine, Bob Mould, Arrested Development, Brandi Carlile, John Doe, Josh Ritter, Marc Broussard and more. We also have a number of goodies (such as signed R.E.M. and Band of Horses posters, an ocean-view cabin on next year’s Cayamo cruise, and more) to give to donors in random drawings.

Some things are worth saving while others you need to just let die – I’m looking at you, Dokken reunion tour. Paste is most definitely worth saving, so help out if you can.