Wow, how did we get to number four? To be honest I am not
really sure how number one got done. But, anyway. Here we go again.
As I have stated, or intended to state, I do not intend to
be the center of this iteration of TBOTB. That is not only because I am kind of
out of TBOTB type stories but also because it's time for somebody (some people)
to take this over and move forward with the concept of preserving "The
Life and Times of Military Musicians." That, in my humble opinion, is
important. (Thanks for coming up with that phrase, Tom.) I am still working on
getting current, or at least more recent, military bandsmen involved here but
until that happens I will do what I can to stoke the fires and make things
happen. With that said, on with the show.
I have posted before that my performance credits on
recordings were very limited. A computerized sound effect here, a forgotten
overdub there and a shout or two on band vocals make up most of it. But, there
was a recording project that where I played the bari sax for the whole thing.
Yeah, really, no kidding. So what happened to it? That tape, that project? I
have no idea other than I know for a fact (or at least think) it was never
released. Here is the rundown. (This took place shortly before I left the USAF.)
I don't know what the project was called, the name of the
album that we never released. I don't remember how much of my material was
slated to be on it (I can only remember one). It was done at the same place
where I (we) have mentioned other recording projects, that groovy studio in
Atlanta, GA, by the AFB East. I had a solo.
Yeah, for some reason there was a solo in the bari book, on
this Latin thing, and it didn't get taken away from me, though I would have
understood if it had been. I had never tracked a solo before. But, for some odd
reason I was not petrified in doing so when the time came to do it. (I must
admit that a week or so beforehand I was.) Thirty-two bars of some rather
pleasant Latin changes flew past and I had not sucked. The engineer, Cris, and
the band leader, JR, asked me if I wanted another pass at it. Before I could
even reply someone else did, our AMAZING piano player. He said; "I think
that's a keeper." Coming from him I said nothing and was more than
satisfied with what I had done. Oh, and nobody gave me any crap about that solo
ever. I was amazed.
The only other memory I have of that session was the
transition from the jazz waltz back to the half-time swing in the only chart of
mine I can remember being on that session. We blew it. It was not right. It was
not actually really wrong either it was just not right. I still wonder if that
was the reason the session got canned.
Some story huh?
CODA: Normally after a recording session with that band we
all went home and took a short break, to bask, recover or whatever. In the case
of this session we did not. Instead, we headed off on the road to, as far as I
could tell, promote our up and coming album release (yes, we still called them
albums in those days). The tour was short, three days as I recall. On day one
we performed that piece of mine that we had screwed up the transition from the
jazz waltz to the half-time swing in the recording session. This time the band
nailed it. It was more prefecter than I could have imagined.
A few tunes later in that performance we did that Latin
thing that had the bari solo. Once again, thirty-two bars of pleasant Latin
changes went past and I did not suck. In fact, I was pretty stoked about it.
Yes, ego does exist in my normally self-deprecating persona.
After that gig, the piano player who had backed me so well
in the studio came up to me and said; "You should have played the same
stuff you did at Master Sound." He was right once again. But, for some
reason that did not bother me. Instead I looked forward to all the crap the
guys and girls were going to give me back at the dump later that night.
Did I ever tell you that the dumbest thing I ever did was
get out of the Air Force Bands when I did? Oh, yeah, I guess I did.
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