(In which Matthewe, Joe, Richarde and Amye beat back the L-Tryptophan hangover and somehow work up the energye to leave the overflowing Thanksgivinge bountye at their respective homes for two weekes of unmitigated holidaye Bobbing.)
DATELINE: November 27, 1998 -Santa Cruz, CA
After
a brief rehearsal of the Christmas tunes Chez Richard, we hit the road in light
rain for Santa Cruz, our first show after about a month's hiatus. It's a wee
tad chilly and the heat's about to be cranked as we greet Gunnar
Bob Madsen at the Kuumbwaa (not Kum-by-ah, as I'd speculated) Jazz Center.
He's opening for us! I'm thrilled to meet one of the original Bobs, and rumors
abound as to Janie Bob and Lori Bob's attendance. (Could I be more intimidated
about this show?!?!) Gunnar's set is great - including pieces from his albums
and a killer rendition of "I Am The Walrus" complete with cello (Note to self:
Joe is the Eggman, goo goo g'joob.). Gunnar joins us for a rousing psychotic
version of Mopping where he improvises new lyrics at breakneck speed and Helmet
in the second show, during which both he and I read from the Songbooks! (Available
at this very website for your home enjoyment!) Janie Bob, also in the audience,
is coaxed onstage for a reunion with the guys on Fever. Despite her professed
2-year stage absence, she wows 'em.
Backstage
between shows, Joe Bob teased Richard's daughter Ashley because she can't identify
Duke Ellington's picture on the wall. At this point I ask Richard and Joe if
they know that in Ellington's music all 12 tones of the scale appear in any
given melody. I'd heard a professor at Berklee talk about it, adding that Bernstein
did the same thing. (Oddly enough, Bernstein's Cheese Fantastico salad dressing
contains 12 tones of cheddar in each bottle!) After dismissing it as bunk, both
Joe and Richard simultaneously close their eyes and slink inside their own heads
to test the theory without letting on that they are doing so. As Ashley looks
up at me, I mouth "Got 'em!" (Note to fellow geeks: I can't say that I've taken
the time to see if it's true or not!) Special mention: My pal Mason Woo, who
saw us on CNN from a hotel room in Tunisia(!), Gunnar Bob Madsen and Janie Bob
Scott for their sheer awesomeness, Rich from DaVinci's
Notebook who joined us during Helmet as well, and the wonderful staff at
the Kuumbwa-ha-ha!
DATELINE: November 28, San Francisco/Berkeley, CA
As Richard and I drive into SF it's an incredibly beautiful, crisp morning after the rains. I marvel at the Bay, dreaming of the day when Alex and I will live in such a picturesque city. We head for the beauteous (!) Tenderloin District, wherein lies the Great American Music Hall. It's a gorgeous old ornately decorated building, and Matthew, eyebrow raised, speaks in hushed tones of underground passages to adjoining buildings. The guys have played a ton of shows here, where we're guests on Sedge Thomson's West Coast Live (NPR). We do Xmas in LA, Dinner Bell and Leisure Suit, sharing the bill with the hauntingly-voiced Imogen Heap as well as a Yosemite rockclimber and an expert on mallards. (If you've got a speedy net connection or a lot of free time, download the 17 meg Real Audio archive) Then it's back to Berkeley.
TURTLE BOY. Yes, you read that right! It's a project the Bobs have been working on with Bay Area monologist Josh Kornbluth (most recent work: Ben Franklin Unplugged) - basically an hommage to Josh's pet turtle accompanied by short pieces we sing. Richard calls it a "monologue cappella." We record parts individually all afternoon, retreating happily between takes to the Greene's kitchen for unbelievably rich, ribald cheese and souciant sourdough bread laid out amongst Ashley's college brochures. I note that the Greene's cat sleeps blissfully through the afternoon atop a video of Andrew Lloyd Weber's Cats, but attribute this crucial musical misjudgment to blinding feline narcissism, not lack of taste. Mrrrrreow!!!!
Nixing
my idea of hitching goofy/lovable pit lab Costello to a sled and "Hee-yah!"-ing
to LA, the guys pack the car and we vroom down the I-5 (or, for those of you
in SoCal, "the 5"). Our boring 5-hour drive is memorable only for Richard's
summation of the Constitution's preamble: "Wheeee! The People!", an oil well
fire out of control near Bakersfield, and an attack of insanity in German after
wolfing down "Ein und Aus Burger" in Kettleman City.
DATELINE: November 29, Santa Monica, CA
Chef Boy-R-Dee Alex Bob (mein schotz) prepares us a scrumptious carrot stew (next time, watch the cloves, honey!) and Turkey Day leftovers for dinner. Matthew Bob miraculously shows up for dinner merely by following the smell of garlic turkey, the only scent to pierce through his suffering sinuses all week.
Guitar shop by day, acoustic nirvana by night, McCabe's has hosted some of the best concerts I've ever seen. This time I get to find out where the performers went when they left the stage up those wooden stairs! (Answer: a series of practice and storage rooms.) Once again we greeted a packed house, with Joe joking that I know everyone there (Joe thinks I know everyone in LA -because I seem to always know his dates) and Matthew dressed in traditional holiday attire: a Scottish tartan kilt, complete with decorative sock-wear. (For the record, boy can he work the skirt!) The 2 shows rocked, and I gotta say it was super-cool to be able to go home afterwards - 5 minutes away. On a strange note, I point out the presence of actual pianos present onstage during this tour. We usually use a pitchpipe, so I'm still trying to figure out where to blow.
DATELINE:
December 1, 1998 -Las Vegas, NV
Alex drives out to Vegas in the morning to meet us there as we'll have the whole night free and he's got a "system" for Craps. Before we leave for the airport, Richard and I lunch and he attempts to explain the concept of the phrase "it's been pushed back" to me, a feat that has thus far eluded everyone on earth. It's not a phrase I've ever heard for some reason, growing up on the East Coast. Despite the use of flowcharts, semaphore, and eventually sock puppets, Richard fails. I still don't get it when our flight's delayed... Alex, avoiding Bun Boy (World's Largest Thermometer) and Zzyzx Road (Home of...Nothing) manages to beat us to "Lost Wages," as it's known to both Steely and Dan. We all head for THE FEAST at Palace Station, said to be one of the best buffets in town. (If you've never seen four six-foot-plus guys and a five-foot-seven woman pile into a 2-door Honda Civic hatchback, you're lucky.) The guys are fascinated as Alex explains his Craps system ("Wait, what's a come bet again?") and we devour way too many plates of so-so food. After investigating New York, New York (my vote: skip it and go directly to the Apple itself), we hit the crap tables at the Sahara, where we're staying...
Alex is later rebuked by a superstitious craps player after explaining odds bets too loudly to Joe. Eventually, we lose radio contact with Alex when he enters into The Craps Zone, winning (and then losing) a mountainous $15. Despite warnings from a friendly change wench, Joe attempts to walk the 6 blocks to downtown at night, but promptly turns around when getting mugged is imminent. That wacky guy!
The next morning we run a vocal workshop for a public high school group in Las Vegas during which we're asked the following questions: "Could you sing the Folger's commercial?" (No, that's Rockapella) "How did you feel when Sean Altman left the band" (Didn't have a huge effect) and "Do you guys know Rockapella?"?" Back to NY,NY for lunch to soothe my Nathan's hot dog jones ($2.95!!!! A total ripoff!!!! Ah, who am I kidding, I loved it.) The show at the Winchester Community Center was a veritable holiday spectacular, and it's great to see Joe's and my friend Wendy Talley, who sings in the Cirque Du Soleil show in Vegas. Plus Alex met these guys who flew down from Whitehorse, Yukon for the show (and, I suspect, the $1.99 steak and eggs breakfast at Harrah's).
DATELINE: December 2, 1998 -Boulder, CO
After hours of delay in Vegas, we reach Denver and are whisked off to KGNU radio in Boulder for a brief interview and to record a station ID. It's during this show that Matthew reveals his pet peeve: the misuse of the word "buffalo." Matthew demands that the correct term "bison" be used since there are no buffalo in America - it's a big mistake that they're called that in the first place. Thereafter, Richard "shuffles off to Bison", Joe muses about bison gals, chips, wings and nickels and I notify friends in Bison, NY of the looming revolution. 
Onstage,
we gasp for oxygen and make good use of the tank available in the wings - we're
more or less a sea-level group. Sometime after Yuleman Vs. The Anti-Claus we
actually stand around banging our mics on our heads in response to Richard's
scientific pronouncement that they would resonate in the range of our individual
voices. (Revenge for my 12-tone Ellington stunt?) The staff at this show was
particularly cool - special thanks to Kim, Peter, David and Glen for their tireless
efforts in coordinating the whole shebang - a benefit for the Boulder Community
Foodshare that featured a charity auction during intermission. "Breakfast With
The Bobs" goes for $250, which they tell me is slightly less than our net worth
the previous year. I attribute this to two things: Joe's wardrobe, dubbed "The
Full Cleveland" by a raucous audience member, and the endless speculation about
what's under Matthew's kilt. Although "Breakfast Without The Bobs" fetches $225...but
then again, breakfast is the most important meal of the day...
Breakfast the next morning at the Golden Buff (sorry, Matthew, The Golden Bise) was shared with Boulderites David Brand, Lori Miller, Mark "Foo" Holland and Michael Browning, the "successful" bidders from the night before! Eight of us gorge ourselves on mega-skillets and industrial strength pancakes while pondering the validity of nutritionist Lori's fun food facts.
We left Boulder very full indeed, with me searching for the right joke about the glistening white teepee- weirdness of Denver International Airport, Joe clanking through security with a heavy bag of Anchor Steam bottles, Matthew gawking at the line for Beanie Babies and Richard trying to focus us on our workshops plans for the weekend in Minneapolis. Pre-occupied with the list of errands I need to run during my day and a half off in LA, I forget to mention that Boulder was home to Mork and Mindy... Well, Nanoo, Nanoo until Saturday, guys!
DATELINE: December 6-8, 1998 -Minneapolis, MN
Joe and I fly in a day early due to Saturday night stay airplane tix rules and have the distinct pleasure of sampling the "Airport Express" that is in NO WAY AN EXPRESS (with the God Squad blaring from the radio). Then we gobble and gab at Grandma's (question for self: Why do you keep breaking the "Never eat at restaurants with family names" rule?) next to the Holiday Inn where we're staying. It's too expensive, the waitress is completely unamused by us, and they charge extra for a side of bleu cheese dressing. Yeesh!
In
the morning I get the feeling Joe's incommunicado so I ask the staff for a cool
breakfast dive. "Hands down - in Dinkytown, just over the bridge - Al's Breakfast.
But you'll wait." Seeing as I DO have all day, I take up the gauntlet and head
for Dinkytown - without even stopping to croon funkily: "Will you take me to....Dinkytown?".
Dinkytown is basically the commercial area of the University of Minnesota campus.
Al's is roughly the size of 2 bowling alley lanes - you sit at a counter and
the staff cooks facing you. Since there are only 17 seats, people hungrily line
up directly behind you like vultures. And boy do they line up! I get in line
around 9:45 and actually eat at 10:30 (but it's SO worth it). Al's menu is a
multi-tasking miracle, accommodating everyone from a cholesterol maniac (on
my right) to those allergic to all soy products (on my left). Local papers proclaim
it "Best Breakfast in Minneapolis." They play only blues and oldies on the boom
box and serve you with a dry, jovial, laid back charm ("Aside from the service,
how was it?") and make the whole strange experience a meal to remember. I walk
around the chilly campus all day, bundled up in the brisk, brown cold, lost
in memories of East Coast winters.
Gunnar Bob Madsen opens for us yet again at the packed Cedar Cultural Center. This time he joins us onstage (sans cello) for Mopping, Helmet and Welcome to My Fog. Joe rags on three rowdy chicks in the crowd who turn out to be two rowdy chicks and a rowdy long-haired dude (sorry, guy!), Matthew goes on a political rant lauding Governor-Elect Jesse "The Body" Ventura and Richard calls for the candidacy of Hulk Hogan for Governor of California. We also attempt Share A Load in a key way too low for me (um...that would be... the original...key...) and as predicted, it turns into a train wreck. Hey, they asked for it!
We begin 2 days of vocal workshops with Marcy Open School students at ow o-clock the next morning. Thanks to our liaison teacher Jay, the kids here are mega-prepped, begging us upon arrival for Sign My Snarling Doggie, Spontaneous Human Combustion and school favorite Helter Skelter for that crazy "budda-dubba-dibba-dubba" thing in the chorus (we end up singing it about 10 times in the 2 day period)! The kids are great - and Joe the Wonder Drum is an endless source of percussive joy (you know, I bet all the girls tell him that...), fascinating budding drummers and hyperactive teens alike. It was great to interact with the kids, who gave us back such gifts as a personalized sketch of us (Antonio), a goofy pen-tip monster (Eden) and a signed thank you poster. Thanks to Bill for the rides, Camilla and the faculty for the lunches and French lessons, "Spiderlegs" Paolo and his unique brand of dancing displayed during You Really Got A Hold On Me and once again to Jay for his work coordinating our visits!
Later that day, we split up and explore downtown Minneapolis, in and around the outdoor Nicollet Mall area. Matthew and I storm a way-cool army surplus place and find a bitchin' old British band uniform...we briefly sketch out a concept album: Sgt. Bob's Lonely Hearts Club Band...but the thing's too small for either of us and concept albums are quite passé. Bummed that the musical version of "How The Grinch Stole Xmas" is sold out at Minneapolis Children's Theatre, I think about getting a rush ticket for the Guthrie's "Xmas Carol" but opt instead for room service and vistitations from the Spirit of Buffy the Vampire Slayer Present. Boy am I pissed when it turns out there is no WB network on the TV at the hotel!!!!!
DATELINE: December 9, 1998 -Ann Arbor, MI
We
fly to Detroit and get stuck in a tieup on I-94 heading for WDET (hey, I didn't
have to leave LA to do that!) where we guest on Martin 's cool NPR show. Then,
after an annoying hour spent checking into our lodging with world's slowest
desk clerk, it's off to a feast with Ken and Gail Posener (and kids Alan & Jeremy)
at their friend Nancy's beautiful house in Ann Arbor before our show. (I didn't
get to see you guys after the show, so thanks again!)
All species show up in pairs for our show at The Ark in Ann Arbor, during which we redeem ourselves on Share A Load and I point out the oddity of these lyrics: AE: "I think that sock is mine." MS: "No, it was a gift from my mother." ONE SOCK? Thanks, Mom!!!! The crowd includes the fan who saw us earlier this year in Austin (he lives in Michigan) and my ol' Syracuse buddy, Lynn Shuck, who I haven't seen in about 8 years. We catch up like crazy at a nearby cafe called Amer's, which seems perfect since her nickname for me is AMERS!
DATELINE: December 10-11, 1998 -Cincinnati. OH
In the a.m. we board the Bobmobile (this time a charming maroon stretch-Buick that may have served in the Gulf War) for Cincinnati. As northwest Ohio's farms roll by and billboards beg us to "Believe," I barrel backwards in my mind to my solo drive through the midwest on my way to LA in November 1990. With my trunk packed to the lip and everything I owned in the backseat of the car I still have, an endless supply of cassettes and many Waffle Houses ushered me west that winter. And now, with Finetti asleep next to me among Burger King wrappers, Richard reading the Detroit Times and Matthew trying to find an NPR station as he plows down Route 75, I'm thinking how weird it is that Songs For Tomorrow Morning was of the tapes I played most often during that 2-week journey.
We chill out at James Rosenberger and Deb Kelley's place, reviewing the schedule for tomorrow's intense 5-camera video shoot of our concerts at the 20th Century Theatre in Oakley Square. James and Deb (possibly the best promoters on earth, and way cool folks as well) are producing the event and have every activity mapped out for the smoothest flowage possible. A cameraman follows us to WNKU that evening as well as WEBN the next morning where we meet guest morning show dude Mojo Nixon, who vows to steal Vapor Carioca and "dumb it up" for his own show. I somehow neglect to ask after his 2-headed love child with Debbie Gibson - where are my manners?!?! It's fun to switch our radio modus operandi from sophisticated (NPR) to scatological (WEBN!) and to finally see those naked internet pictures of Dr. Laura Schlesinger.
The theatre's a beehive of activity lorded over by James and Deb. We sound check, do camera rehearsals and semi-interviews with James, who borrows his approach from the Vanity Fair Proust Questionnaire. We dine across the street at Habit's with Matthew Mom Fran and friend Shirley, down from Columbus before the first show at 7pm. The first house is a little quiet, perhaps intimidated by the whole monitor/camera setup, but we gradually overcome the distance and rock out. My Aunt and Uncle, also down from Columbus, finally get to see me perform - which hasn't happened since my 1970's ballet recitals in New Jersey (note to self: compare/contrast these in a later essay)! The second show blows the roof off and is a total blast. Rumor has it that several diehard KISS fans renounce their clownish hero-gods and become Bobs converts after the roars of applause float towards the venue where KISS is performing, across town. Rock-n-roll all night indeed!
After the show we stay out way too late with the crew and some audience members, discovering the joys of "potato rags" back at Habits... Y U M!!! In the morning, Joe and I get a lesson in construction horrors attempting to get to the airport in Kentucky, both completely zonked - and I depart with his leisure suits and shoes in my bag. Off to separate coasts we are, to spread joy and happiness doing industrial strength Xmas caroling for the next 2 weeks in NY and LA (this is how I met Joe, actually). Richard and Matthew stay in Cinci to edit the video with James and Deb, and, I suspect, to pack away the Xmas tunes in mothballs for their 11-month hiatus.
DATELINE: Holiday Kiss-up stuff, 1998, Los Angeles, CA
I've
gotta say a few things to wrap up here: 1) Matthew is really photogenic, 2)
Richard definitely should do his own one-man show, and 3) Joe needs fewer married
admirers.(!) Special thanks to the Bobs fans who have been really wonderful
and welcoming to me throughout the year - I know that change can be traumatic
- I'm still not over the whole Farrah Fawcett/Cheryl Ladd debaucle! - and also
many thanks to Richard, Joe and Matthew for the opportunity to both have fun
AND make really cool, challenging music. Merry/Happy/Joyous and all that stuff!
Let's party like it's 1989. Amy Bob
©1999 Amy Engelhardt (text) , Richard Greene (page)