Woodshed
Rusty’s Last Chance, Manhattan, KS - Tuesday, September 16, 1997
Setlist:
Runnin’ with the Devil
Do You Want to Go
Sea of Tranquility
Up it Rose
Ice Cream Jeans
Slipslide
Paint it Black
Delirious
Red Field
Cinnamon Girl
Giving It All That You Can
White Picket Fence
Opening for: Shaking Tree
You may ask yourself, why would something this preposterous make this list? Doesn’t this belong in the bottom 10? Well, believe it or not, this just might have been the most fun gig that I ever played….
… Even I can’t believe I just wrote that.
Let’s start with a tutorial on who Woodshed were and what circumstances brought them back to the stage one last time. Woodshed was the creation of a very odd group of musicians: Jeff Lees, Darren Strope (Manhattan High ’91 if I’m not mistaken), a long haired hippie named Jimmy, and Andy Van Meter. On vocals Jeff was a modern day cross between Jim Morrison and Fred Schneider. Imagine that juxtaposed against the Eddie Van Halen-inspired guitar playing of Andy (ironically, this was one of the few times Andy wasn’t in a cover band). And somewhere in between were the flammable temperament of Darren and the kitten-like personality of Jimmy.
The mighty Woodshed formed in the spring of 1997. My first encounter with the group was when Andy proposed that I help produce their first demo in our garage. Early in the project, Noah and I were listening to an instrumental version of “Delirious”, when we thought, wow, this is really heavy. I wonder what it’ll sound like with vocals. A few days later we had our answer. Try and picture the pounding music of Soundgarden’s “Birth Ritual” paired with the lyrics “I am CURIOUS what you KNOW… and I PONDER what you KNOW…” sung to a melody that wouldn’t have been out of place on “Love Shack”.
From the start, Woodshed was amazingly unpopular. I doubt Manhattan was ready for their avant-garde style. But, they had one ally, and a powerful one at that: Steve Anthony, station director of FM 101.5 K-Rock. You see, Steve and Jeff were housemates. Despite their lack of fan base, Woodshed found themselves booked at various venues around town in the summer of 1997. I saw them a few times, which come to think of it, may have been every show they ever played.
But, their biggest coup was inclusion on the big ‘Manhattan Project’ CD that was slated for production that summer. That compilation was to feature a dozen bands from the Manhattan music scene, who were to be recorded live during a three day festival. Somehow Woodshed was selected. They paid their $100 entry fee and then geared up for their inevitable big break. But the Manhattan Project was in financial trouble from the start. The festival was pushed back, the recording was canceled, some of the bands dropped out. The Project struggled for a long time tying to raise the dollars and to keep the dream alive.
Meanwhile, the personalities that made up Woodshed began to clash and tear it apart. I remember one incident in Bomber’s Upstairs when Darren was upset about the Manhattan Project and refused to help distribute promotional fliers. Andy and Jeff felt differently; tempers flared, profanities were thrown around, and Darren grabbed the stack of filers and ran off (presumably to toss them in a nearby dumpster). Unfortunately, in his anger he never looked down, missed the first step, and tumbled down the entire stairway leading out of Bombers. I had to laugh, because in the process he’d done a pretty good job distributing all the fliers he’d vowed to throw away.
The breaking point was reached soon after when Jimmy moved to western Kansas and the band imploded. His Snuggle Bear demeanor apparently had been the glue that kept the band together. I’m not sure anyone in the music scene ever noticed Woodshed’s absence.
Then, by some miracle, the Manhattan Project finally got on track. The venue would be Bomber’s Upstairs, the dates would be August 28 to 30, and one of the bands would be, believe it or not, Woodshed. I asked Andy why. “We paid our $100, and I’ll be damned if we don’t get our money out of the deal,” “So, who’s going to play bass?” “We thought about asking you!”
Oh my, oh my. I was suddenly in deeper than I wanted to be. I guess my mistake was being too familiar with the band: having helped produce their demo, having seen most of their shows, and being a fairly competent bass player on the side. I reluctantly agreed.
Woodshed drew the short straw and opened up the festival. We took the stage in front of a mostly empty venue. I can’t say I remember too much from those three nights at Bomber’s, though they had their moments. But, for better or for worse, the tapes were there and they were rolling. (This is off topic a bit, but when we were setting up on stage Andy’s amp was picking up some crazy crosstalk. I took a peek in the backstage electrical room and immediately slammed the door in shock and horror. I told Andy, “we’d better be careful or this place will burn to the ground.” It did a few months later!)
A few nights later the four of us made the trip downriver to Lawrence to the studio where we’d mix our part of the show. Again, there was another contentious situation. To be honest, our performance wasn’t very good. Three of us agreed that one song, “Slipslide”, was probably the best choice for the compilation. One of us, Andy, was aghast that we’d choose the only “wimpy” song from the set. His temper rose to the point of quitting right there, calling Vicki to pick him up (from 90 miles away in Manhattan) to take him home, and pulling the plug on the whole project. I guess he didn’t want his unshakable heavy-metal reputation ruined. We eventually calmed him down, finished the project and went back to Manhattan, and that was it. Woodshed was dead. Done. Finished. Case closed.
But the story doesn’t end there.
Jeff Lees had one more card to play. As bar tender at Last Chance, he was asked to find a band to open up last-minute for some headliner that time has also forgotten. In a pinch he reunited Woodshed for a one-off performance.
And now you know the backstory.
I once read that Paul McCartney’s favorite memory as a Beatle was recording ‘Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band’ because they got to make believe they were somebody else. I guess Woodshed was that for me, and I was playing the role of Billy Shears. That September night I remember being dressed up like Buddy Holly with horn-rimmed glasses and an Aquafresh blue and white stripped sport coat (the sport coat is long gone, though I still own a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, but the joke’s on me as I have to wear them most of the time). It sounds ridiculous, but so was the idea of a Woodshed reunion concert.
Darren and I were ornery and started our last show by baiting Andy into playing “Runnin’ with the Devil”. It was funny to watch him, much like the ecstasy of a dog rolling on its back, as he jumped onstage and tore into the famous Van Halen riff. The bar was pretty full (Noah, Jennica, and Brett Speidel were in the front row) and everyone was having a really good time. I figured why not just enjoy this for what it is: pure, unadulterated fun. There was Jeff laughing during “Up it Rose” when he intentionally sung the wrong lyrics to poke fun of my earlier misunderstanding of the real ones. I remember one point when a part of Darren’s drum kit broke down, and he stopped in disgust. Normally, he would have stormed off stage and thrown some sort of tantrum. But this night even he smiled as the rest of us jammed on and he joined back in. It even got pretty intense during the epic “Giving it All that You Can”, to the point that I broke my bass string by pounding on it so hard. I played the final song with only three strings.
There were plenty of hugs afterwards. Of course none of us were stupid enough to suggest we ever reform again. And since then Woodshed has been purged from all memory, well, except from mine.
Notes:
Here is a list of all known Woodshed Recordings:
Demo – May (?) 1997 [1]
Rusty’s Last Chance, Manhattan, KS – May 27, 1997 [2]
The Waydown Lounge, Manhattan, KS – July 13, 1997 [2]
Bomber’s Upstairs, Manhattan, KS – August 28, 1997 [1],[3]
Rusty’s Last Chance, Manhattan, KS – September 16, 1997 [4]
[1] The original multitrack tapes are currently in the possession of Andy Van Meter. It is not known whether anyone else has a copy.
[2] The original microcassette tapes are currently in the possession of John Frank. It is not known if they have ever been played since being recorded.
[3] “Slipslide” is available on ‘ The Manhattan Project 1997’
[4] The original cassette tape and CD transfer are currently in the possession of John Frank.
Runnin’ with the Devil
Do You Want to Go
Sea of Tranquility
Up it Rose
Ice Cream Jeans
Slipslide
Paint it Black
Delirious
Red Field
Cinnamon Girl
Giving It All That You Can
White Picket Fence
Opening for: Shaking Tree
You may ask yourself, why would something this preposterous make this list? Doesn’t this belong in the bottom 10? Well, believe it or not, this just might have been the most fun gig that I ever played….
… Even I can’t believe I just wrote that.
Let’s start with a tutorial on who Woodshed were and what circumstances brought them back to the stage one last time. Woodshed was the creation of a very odd group of musicians: Jeff Lees, Darren Strope (Manhattan High ’91 if I’m not mistaken), a long haired hippie named Jimmy, and Andy Van Meter. On vocals Jeff was a modern day cross between Jim Morrison and Fred Schneider. Imagine that juxtaposed against the Eddie Van Halen-inspired guitar playing of Andy (ironically, this was one of the few times Andy wasn’t in a cover band). And somewhere in between were the flammable temperament of Darren and the kitten-like personality of Jimmy.
The mighty Woodshed formed in the spring of 1997. My first encounter with the group was when Andy proposed that I help produce their first demo in our garage. Early in the project, Noah and I were listening to an instrumental version of “Delirious”, when we thought, wow, this is really heavy. I wonder what it’ll sound like with vocals. A few days later we had our answer. Try and picture the pounding music of Soundgarden’s “Birth Ritual” paired with the lyrics “I am CURIOUS what you KNOW… and I PONDER what you KNOW…” sung to a melody that wouldn’t have been out of place on “Love Shack”.
From the start, Woodshed was amazingly unpopular. I doubt Manhattan was ready for their avant-garde style. But, they had one ally, and a powerful one at that: Steve Anthony, station director of FM 101.5 K-Rock. You see, Steve and Jeff were housemates. Despite their lack of fan base, Woodshed found themselves booked at various venues around town in the summer of 1997. I saw them a few times, which come to think of it, may have been every show they ever played.
But, their biggest coup was inclusion on the big ‘Manhattan Project’ CD that was slated for production that summer. That compilation was to feature a dozen bands from the Manhattan music scene, who were to be recorded live during a three day festival. Somehow Woodshed was selected. They paid their $100 entry fee and then geared up for their inevitable big break. But the Manhattan Project was in financial trouble from the start. The festival was pushed back, the recording was canceled, some of the bands dropped out. The Project struggled for a long time tying to raise the dollars and to keep the dream alive.
Meanwhile, the personalities that made up Woodshed began to clash and tear it apart. I remember one incident in Bomber’s Upstairs when Darren was upset about the Manhattan Project and refused to help distribute promotional fliers. Andy and Jeff felt differently; tempers flared, profanities were thrown around, and Darren grabbed the stack of filers and ran off (presumably to toss them in a nearby dumpster). Unfortunately, in his anger he never looked down, missed the first step, and tumbled down the entire stairway leading out of Bombers. I had to laugh, because in the process he’d done a pretty good job distributing all the fliers he’d vowed to throw away.
The breaking point was reached soon after when Jimmy moved to western Kansas and the band imploded. His Snuggle Bear demeanor apparently had been the glue that kept the band together. I’m not sure anyone in the music scene ever noticed Woodshed’s absence.
Then, by some miracle, the Manhattan Project finally got on track. The venue would be Bomber’s Upstairs, the dates would be August 28 to 30, and one of the bands would be, believe it or not, Woodshed. I asked Andy why. “We paid our $100, and I’ll be damned if we don’t get our money out of the deal,” “So, who’s going to play bass?” “We thought about asking you!”
Oh my, oh my. I was suddenly in deeper than I wanted to be. I guess my mistake was being too familiar with the band: having helped produce their demo, having seen most of their shows, and being a fairly competent bass player on the side. I reluctantly agreed.
Woodshed drew the short straw and opened up the festival. We took the stage in front of a mostly empty venue. I can’t say I remember too much from those three nights at Bomber’s, though they had their moments. But, for better or for worse, the tapes were there and they were rolling. (This is off topic a bit, but when we were setting up on stage Andy’s amp was picking up some crazy crosstalk. I took a peek in the backstage electrical room and immediately slammed the door in shock and horror. I told Andy, “we’d better be careful or this place will burn to the ground.” It did a few months later!)
A few nights later the four of us made the trip downriver to Lawrence to the studio where we’d mix our part of the show. Again, there was another contentious situation. To be honest, our performance wasn’t very good. Three of us agreed that one song, “Slipslide”, was probably the best choice for the compilation. One of us, Andy, was aghast that we’d choose the only “wimpy” song from the set. His temper rose to the point of quitting right there, calling Vicki to pick him up (from 90 miles away in Manhattan) to take him home, and pulling the plug on the whole project. I guess he didn’t want his unshakable heavy-metal reputation ruined. We eventually calmed him down, finished the project and went back to Manhattan, and that was it. Woodshed was dead. Done. Finished. Case closed.
But the story doesn’t end there.
Jeff Lees had one more card to play. As bar tender at Last Chance, he was asked to find a band to open up last-minute for some headliner that time has also forgotten. In a pinch he reunited Woodshed for a one-off performance.
And now you know the backstory.
I once read that Paul McCartney’s favorite memory as a Beatle was recording ‘Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band’ because they got to make believe they were somebody else. I guess Woodshed was that for me, and I was playing the role of Billy Shears. That September night I remember being dressed up like Buddy Holly with horn-rimmed glasses and an Aquafresh blue and white stripped sport coat (the sport coat is long gone, though I still own a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, but the joke’s on me as I have to wear them most of the time). It sounds ridiculous, but so was the idea of a Woodshed reunion concert.
Darren and I were ornery and started our last show by baiting Andy into playing “Runnin’ with the Devil”. It was funny to watch him, much like the ecstasy of a dog rolling on its back, as he jumped onstage and tore into the famous Van Halen riff. The bar was pretty full (Noah, Jennica, and Brett Speidel were in the front row) and everyone was having a really good time. I figured why not just enjoy this for what it is: pure, unadulterated fun. There was Jeff laughing during “Up it Rose” when he intentionally sung the wrong lyrics to poke fun of my earlier misunderstanding of the real ones. I remember one point when a part of Darren’s drum kit broke down, and he stopped in disgust. Normally, he would have stormed off stage and thrown some sort of tantrum. But this night even he smiled as the rest of us jammed on and he joined back in. It even got pretty intense during the epic “Giving it All that You Can”, to the point that I broke my bass string by pounding on it so hard. I played the final song with only three strings.
There were plenty of hugs afterwards. Of course none of us were stupid enough to suggest we ever reform again. And since then Woodshed has been purged from all memory, well, except from mine.
Notes:
Here is a list of all known Woodshed Recordings:
Demo – May (?) 1997 [1]
Rusty’s Last Chance, Manhattan, KS – May 27, 1997 [2]
The Waydown Lounge, Manhattan, KS – July 13, 1997 [2]
Bomber’s Upstairs, Manhattan, KS – August 28, 1997 [1],[3]
Rusty’s Last Chance, Manhattan, KS – September 16, 1997 [4]
[1] The original multitrack tapes are currently in the possession of Andy Van Meter. It is not known whether anyone else has a copy.
[2] The original microcassette tapes are currently in the possession of John Frank. It is not known if they have ever been played since being recorded.
[3] “Slipslide” is available on ‘ The Manhattan Project 1997’
[4] The original cassette tape and CD transfer are currently in the possession of John Frank.
1 comment:
John and The Dipshits. Sign me up!
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