I remember it all began during the summer of '95.
After
years on the ocean as a commercial fisherman, I had taken a
somewhat nostalgic approach to the musings of one Jimmy Buffett,
in consideration of the fact that we shared many of the same
inspirations, which guided us down a certain path into
adulthood. It was quite an easy decision to jump in the car,
and travel to Concord, New Hampshire, to catch a few of the
"Reefers" performing their own music under the leadership of
lead guitarist Peter Mayer.
Scott Kirby opened for "PM," and the music that came out
that particular night seeded what would one day be known as
"Island Fest." As for me, all I knew was that I had just
witnessed some of the best live music I had ever heard, and
finally had gotten to meet some members of a band who had
helped me, for oh-so-many years, to keep a smile on my face
while dealing with life, liberty, and the pursuit of the
ultimate good time.
I remember the drive home to Rhode Island the following
day while thinking to myself (and sometimes out loud) that
a sort of epiphany had taken place. Passions, which had left
me some twenty-plus years earlier to become involved in
some part of the music biz, had somehow been resurrected.
As
the mental plates in my head began spinning, plans were now
set loose to somehow act as a promoter. I wanted to bring
Peter and the "boys," as Peter’s then-manager Jane Stansfield would say, to my hometown to share the music
which had now taken control of my Mazda’s cassette player.
A
few months later, Peter would be out on tour promoting the
release of his first solo album
Green Eyed Radio.
One of the stops on the tour would be a benefit concert at a
very funky and popular beach bar, the Ocean Mist, in Matunuck, RI.
At about 11:00 am, on October 29, 1995, "Lucky" rolled into
town, loaded to the brim with gear, discarded "Subway"
wrappers, empty water bottles, and a tired (but smiling)
Peter Mayer Group, in hopes of some new adventures. A stop
at a local radio station to promote the concert allowed
Peter to debut a solo of A Little Too Happy on the
RI airwaves.
To put it very mildly, the DJ and engineer in the studio
were very impressed. With a little "Swamp Yankee" ingenuity,
a borrowed limousine, some good friends, and about twenty
four hours to help make some magic happen, I did my best not
to disappoint the entourage.
Some long-lasting friendships began that night along with
some stories that, to this day, find their way into our
conversations whenever we have the opportunity to sit around
and reminisce. The most amazing part of this story to me is,
to put it simply, the fact that this would only be the
beginning of a long line of stories to come, which are too
numerous to mention at this time.
After that initial night, Peter graciously allowed me to tag
along and help out whenever he would be performing in the
region. To some, the thought of driving "Lucky," carrying
gear, fetching sandwiches, selling CDs, etc., may not seem
to be quite so glamorous. To me, it was an opportunity to
learn about the music business, while hanging out with some
of my heroes.
At this point in time, I was a friend, but I
also understood that someone of Peter’s caliber, both as a
musician and as an individual, had many people (just like
myself) who were always there when he came to someone else’s
home town. I remember telling a close friend of mine that I
would love to actually work for Peter, to which he said,
“quit dreaming...that will never happen.”
It was at that
exact moment that I (while being not-so-young
anymore) knew for once in my life what I really wanted.
I had finally ended my twenty-year career of getting tossed
and turned in the North Atlantic, had taken a job as a
chauffeur for a casino, and decided that life was too damn
short to not experience other things in life, besides
beating myself up worrying about a big paycheck. There was
still time to do some of the things that I loved and create
a story or two of my own.
Please allow me to fast forward a year or so and share one
of those stories that always comes to mind, while thinking
about how a decade of befriending Peter Mayer has come to
where it is today.
Peter and the boys were down in one of my favorite places of
decadent fishing days, Key West, performing at
Margaritaville. He had once again allowed me the opportunity
to help out.
In case those of you reading this has ever had
the chance to see this first hand, I’m sure you understand
what I mean when I say that the stairs around the back of
the stage go up to the rest rooms. Now, if you use the
secret key (that everyone knows about) and open the high
tech security door, walk up an additional flight of stairs,
you’ll find yourself in the hallway of the Margaritaville
offices and the band’s green room.
Needless to say, moving guitars, cases, and any other sort
of musical apparatus up and down those stairs to the stage
can be a real pain in the butt, so I really think Peter was
happy to have me along for the visit. Considering the fact
that I was now on a very tight budget, I had planned on
staying just a few days.
A friend of mine had hooked me up with a place to sleep at
the home of a wonderful lady (and fan of Peter’s) named
Donna Carpenter. To her, I am forever grateful.
Peter and some of the band members had made arrangements
with their boss, Jimmy, to stay at the “Fish Camp,” one of
Jimmy’s homes on the island.
After the weekend of performing
at the club, Peter and Roger were to stay in town a few
days longer and would be joined by Russ Kunkel and Jay
Oliver, to work on writing some new material. They had all
shared the experience of hanging out there and writing music
for Jimmy’s album Barometer Soup,
just a year or so earlier. They all figured it would be
worth their time to once again put their creative minds
together and possibly sell their work to some up and coming
artists. Mostly, I think they just really enjoyed getting
the juices flowing and seeing what they could come up with,
under a different set of circumstances.
I had never met Russ or Jay; so, needless to say, was quite
amused to see this hip young guy stroll into M-Ville with a
pair of what looked to me like curled up elf shoe slippers
and begin dancing up a storm to Peter’s music. After a few
minutes, Scott Kirby introduced me to Russ, who was standing
at the bar also watching and smiling, as his good friend,
Jay, moved to the music on the dance floor. I have to admit
that being a conservative (except for the decadence) New
Englander, I then realized that I had an awful lot to learn,
if I ever expected to hang with the "big dogs" in Key West.
On Sunday night, after the last Peter Mayer Group
performance at M-Ville, we all headed over to Finnegan’s
Wake for a little late night fun and frolic, with Peter
and Scott Kirby jamming into the early morning hours. After
a little libation, I asked Peter if he’d mind me extending
my stay and possibly being the gopher for the writing crew,
and he once again readily agreed.
I was on the phone the first thing Monday morning,
postponing my flight, asking my boss for additional vacation
time, checking with Donna to see if I wouldn’t be
overstaying my welcome, and explaining to my wife that this
was something I really needed to do. Thanks Christine. By
10:30 am, I was on my moped headed over to the Fish Camp.
If any of you folks out there are musically inclined and
possibly have done some recording, I’m sure you know that
finding the right sounding gear, for the feeling and thought
you are trying to generate through your music, is a very
essential element. This usually requires items such as a
certain type of guitar, a certain amp to play through, the
right percussion instrument... on and on.
You know what I
mean to say. Peter and friends are definitely of the
mentality that even for some quick prototype recordings, the
right instruments are a necessity. The additional
instruments needed for the writing and recording were
shipped to the Margaritaville office, and I was given the
keys to Jimmy’s van, parked in the driveway, to run a few
errands and pick up the gear that had made it’s way to Key
West. I remember thinking to myself how lucky I was to have
been given this opportunity, while at the same time enjoying
this crazy set of circumstances that had landed me in Key
West, with such a talented and well respected group of
musicians that had molded so much of my life through their
music.
It was just about that time, as I was traveling north
on Smathers Beach, that I saw a shrimp boat making way back
to its berth for the night, on Stock Island. As if right on
cue, Jimmy’s rendition of Mexico came over his van
stereo.
I know... it sounds quite corny... but hey, I figured after
seeing Jimmy in concert for the 15 years prior to then, this
was something I just had to do. I opened Jimmy’s glove box,
took out his personal van registration, took out my
disposable camera, and photographed myself holding the
document as the artist on the radio proceeded to condense
the outline of the album’s characters in his last few
sentences. Looking back on it, it wasn’t one of my finer
moments, but it always comes in handy during story telling
hour.
The guys continued working on writing and recording for the
next few days. Roger took some time in between writing
lyrics and recording to show Russ some fine fly casting
techniques, and I’d do whatever I could to just help make
everyone’s lives just a little bit easier.
Peter and Jay worked on much of the musical parts of the
recordings, and before you knew it, four incredible tunes
had evolved from the session. On my last full day in Key
West, Peter, Russ and Jay decided to go out for a late
lunch. A cold front was moving across the area and some rain
began to fall, and I was reminded of an earlier time in my
life.
On this type of rainy day, at my grandparent’s summer house
on the lake, I’d always enjoy kicking back and reading a
book or the latest issue of National Geographic
magazine. Jimmy had plenty of material to check out on his
book shelf and coffee table and I was quite sure that he
wouldn’t mind me sharing a little of his literary collection
for an hour or so.
The sliding door would open and shut, as the housekeeper
continued about her chores, coming in and out of the rain,
while going back and forth from the main house next door to
the Fish Camp. Roger had gone to another part of the house,
while I laid back on the sofa reading. The slider opened
once again, as a surprised Jimmy walked in out of the rain,
in his yellow rain jacket, looked at me and said in a
semi-friendly tone of voice, “So who to hell are you?”
Of course, being an avid fan for all those years sometimes
doesn’t really encourage one to relate one in a most
appropriate manner; but instead, has the potential to make
an individual look like some sort of idiot. I quickly
decided it would be more prudent to take the more timid
approach and let him know I was there with the guys,
politely introduce myself, and quietly sit down.
Maybe I was beginning to learn after all. The time spent
with Peter and the guys during that era would prove to be
one of many experiences that would prove to be some of the
best and most beneficial times in my life.
“The music business is a cruel and shallow money
trench, a long hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and
good men die like dogs. There is also a negative side.”
……..Hunter S.
Thompson
I really believe that Mr. Thompson truly thought the above
sentiment was true. After reading the scandal sheets and
seeing many different acts come and go via their tour buses
and limousines outside my casino office, and hearing how
some had treated the staff, I can understand why.
Even though I think the industry has taken a turn for the
better in the last two decades with more emphasis on quality
family time, smaller egos and major record label executives
beginning to understand that the business can be successful
to many without them. Technology and talent continues to
improve and help independent artists get out and record
their material on their own terms without the need to be
backed by some of the “thieves and pimps” mentioned above.
Instead, it seems to me that the true fans and their own
choices of music, whether it be good or bad, will dictate
the success or lack thereof an artist.
My work with Peter and company has brought me many smiles,
friends, experiences, and to be truthful, sometimes a few
headaches. One thing for sure...it has kept me busy, happy
and feeling alive.
Peter’s patience has allowed me to learn the ropes as a
roadie in the beginning, a tour manager, and now a booking
agent. My own formula to do these things was simply to
listen, never assume anything, keep trying, and to not be
afraid to make a few mistakes along the way.
Above all...to have some patience. We learn everyday, deal
with different obstacles, and hopefully figure out a way to
get through them.
Looking back on it now, that time long ago in Key West really helped me out in many different ways. Getting to know
many of the folks in and around Peter’s life would become an
asset in helping in some way to assist with the growth of
myself as an individual, as well as getting me more in tune
with how this crazy business actually works.
People like
Scott Kirby, Mike Davis, Jimmy’s tour manager Charlie
Fernandez, Maribeth, Rick, Gary, Sue, Terry, and the PM Fan
Club, along with all the friends and fans I’ve
gotten to know, have always been there for me in every way
imaginable over the years. Simple words could never extend
my full appreciation.
To each and every one of you, I give thanks from the bottom
of my heart. Mostly, I’d like to say thanks to Peter for
helping to learn the business, but more importantly, for
teaching me what really matters in life: your family, true
friends, and a good story or two along the way.
