John Denver’s secret sexual messages, dire warnings about certain promoters, and a whole lot of drinking – all in a day’s work for one Bob Husak.
We made the drive up to Santa Barbara fairly early the next day. We parked the RV downtown and I stopped at a nearby Salvation Army and picked up some LPs–mostly baby boomer staples–for fifty cents apiece (brief aside here: On the inside cover of Rocky Mountain High, John Denver’s wearing a shirt that reads, “Be kind to animals, kiss a beaver.” Is it just me, or does this clash drastically with the white bread, more wholesome than wholesome image Denver was always running with? OR, is it possible that he was so naive he didn’t get the double entendre?). I later met up with Garnet and Snow for some happy hour margaritas at El Torito on the waterfront and we hashed out…something. Can’t remember what. It was productive and fun though, that I’m sure of. We afterwards parked near the venue, Muddy Waters, and B. Brown cooked up some serious ginger chicken with mashed potatoes (stay tuned for The Blakes tour recipes) while I was given non stop free beer inside. Muddy Waters is a very small, artsy coffee shop that also serves beer and wine. There’s no stage and the promoter brought in the PA. No worries; the room was packed by the beginning of The Magic Bullets’ set (after two solid locals whose names escape me opened up) and Phil, the singer, was so excited he kissed me on the cheek. Apparently, this is a common practice.
By the way, the Bullets like to drink (we suspect that we were packaged together for this reason). We put on a loose, very fun show and the crowd danced like crazy. At one point, B. Brown, Phil, and Bullets drummer Colin all had hand percussion going at once. I didn’t catch this, but I guess Snow sprayed the crowd with beer–hopefully he avoided criminal culpability by missing all the minors. After the show I followed my favorite female local radio DJ to a bar called the Press Club and had a few. She went home with some friends and we slept in the RV downtown.
Garnet woke up early the next morning and knocked out the lion’s share of the drive to San Diego. We parked near the venue, The Casbah, which is located very near the airport; as such, huge planes were constantly flying over our heads at a very low altitude. Monsoon season in Southern California continued and we got drenched while loading in. The Casbah is a very nice room though, I have to say. We were playing without the Magic Bullets for the first and only time on this tour; instead we opened the night for a relatively popular local band called Gram Rabbit, while the Bullets were at the Whistle Stop across town. My brother, Ben Husy (AKA 3rd Degree), happened to be in the 619 visiting a friend and he swung by to have some laughs and a few drinks. The placed filled up to capacity by the time we went on and I believe we won over the crowd, who by and large were unfamiliar with us. The owner liked us so much he paid us out more than our guarantee, so we hopped in the RV and headed over to the Whistle Stop to celebrate with the Magic Bullets. The venue had transitioned from indie rock night to hip-hop dance club by the time we arrived, and it was so packed that I could barely move. I left immediately and passed out in the RV, while the rest of the crew carried on.
Ed. Due to some sort of infuriating technical problem, we are unable to post the last paragraph of Bob’s fabulous blog. It features Bob’s description of The Echo, the unfortunate consumption of White William’s birthday pineapple tequila, and Brian Brown getting in to an altercation with unseemly promoter Michael Stock. Bob would like other bands to “beware when dealing with this guy.” We apologize for the lack of a last paragraph.