"I wan't to hear you yodel!" - Brandi Carlile

Brandi Carlile
Mishawaka Amphitheatre, Bellvue, CO - September 12, 2009

Setlist:
Oh Dear
Looking Out
What Can I Say
Late Morning Lullaby
My Song
I Will
Happy
Touching the Ground
Dreams
Before it Breaks
Have You Ever
Turpentine
The Story
Let it Be

Jackson
Folsom Prison Blues
Stand By Your Man
Same Old You
Pride and Joy

Opening Act: The Noises 10

Mishawaka… Ah, our beloved little run-down shack and hippie mecca on the banks of northern Colorado’s Poudre river. Scenic, yes. Controversial, yes. Charming on a cool autumn night, absolutely. Last year I wrote that Red Rocks is surely the most stunning venue for live music anywhere. I must say that the Mish is one of the few places that compares equally.

Although Mishawaka is a solid 25 miles northwest of Fort Collins, we like to claim it as our own. It’s nestled in a very small meadow up the Poudre canyon with its rustic stage hemmed in by a wooden fence on one side and the Cache la Poudre river on the other while the canyon walls soar overhead. Behind the audience rests the near-century-old log-cabin-style dance hall. Although I’ve driven past the Mish countless times, I’d caught only one show here before (an afternoon with Jay Farrar). A week ago I was stoked to learn that Brandi Carlile would make a September visit here.

For you who don’t know of Brandi Carlile, she’s is unequivocally the most talented singer I’ve heard this last decade. A few years ago Paula and I attended an E-town taping at Fort Collins’ Lincoln Center featuring her and Marc Cohn. With no disrespect to Marc Cohn, who was very, very good, Brandi Carlile simply stole the show with her incredibly strong and passionate voice. During one moment she was interviewed about her yodel, to which her demonstration brought the house down. Months later I found myself stuck in the back of a long snowcat ride where the conversation migrated to yodeling, and one of the scientists riding beside me remarked, “You know who has one hell of a yodel is Brandi Carlile.” He had been in the Lincoln Center that night as well. Ever since, Paula and I have thoroughly enjoyed our collection of her albums.

Now the Mish, that’s another story. Its legacy is blemished with run-ins with the U.S. Forest Service (who I must speak kindly of, considering they are my employer) along with a mentally unstable owner who have battled against each other over this property for many years. Among many problems is the total lack of on-site parking. As I mentioned, the venue fills a tiny meadow fifteen miles up a narrow mountain canyon. One side of the road is a steep rock slope. On the other is a rushing river. In the past, concert goers have parked on the highway in places so narrow that I still can’t believe their cars didn’t slide into the Poudre.

So why do I tell you this. Because our night starts when Paula and I, along with Jen (remember her and her failed attempt to join us for the My Morning Jacket concert a year ago) and her mother Brenda meet up at a parking lot at the mouth of the canyon and hop on a shuttle bus to take us up to Mishawaka (this is the latest solution to keep the Mish out of trouble). Before departing, the driver addresses us and mentions he works for a “party bus” service out of Boulder, and then he cranks up the stereo, and drives our standard yellow school bus up the river. Now, in the past two weeks there have been two incidents in the canyon when an asphalt tanker went overboard and crashed into the Pouder river. It’s been plastered on the front page of the newspaper almost every day. So, you can imagine our concern when on this cold, rainy night we see the party-bus driver jamming out to “Sultans of Swing” as our bus swings left, and right, and left, and right, and left, and right, and left, and right up the canyon. Even more scary is seeing the temporary guard rail illuminated in our headlights denoting where one of the tankers crashed last week. …Alas, we make it to the front door of Mishawaka safely.

This is a very cold September evening in the mountains. I figure it’s in the 40’s, maybe, mixed with intermittent rain and snow flurries. So, this is my first concert I’ve ever attended wearing my winter coat, gloves, and hat (my brown University of Wyoming one, of course). Paula proves to be the wisest of us when she gets a coffee at the bar. After listening to the opening act (who are quite good and remind me of Ryan Adams) from Mishawaka’s patio we head down near the stage to join the mass of people for their warmth.

The concert is simply outstanding. Brandi Carlile takes the stage with her band (the two twins, Phil and Tim Hanseroth, her cellist Josh Neumann, and new drummer Allison Miller) who gather around the center stage microphone and perform the a cappella “Oh Dear”. The group is bundled in coats, hats, and scarves, and their breath condenses as they sing in a brilliant harmony. When this tour began I doubt they expected anything like this. “We’re freezing up here!” They heat up their performance with a wonderful “What Can I Say” (which, consequently, I share a song with that same title). The sound at the Mish is great. And there aren’t enough adjectives to describe her voice. After several electrified songs, the band sets down for an acoustic set featuring songs from her soon to be released “Give up the Ghost” album. At this point Jen points out that it’s starting to snow. It’s certainly a once in a lifetime experience: the light rain and snow, the smell of smoke drifting overhead from Mishawaka’s fireplace, the ponderosa pine all around, the Poudre river drifiting by, and Brandi and company delivering song after song from the stage. “This has to be the most unique place we’ve played.”

She dedicates “Have You Ever” to a night like this, and thus begins a string of great songs. The audience moves to “Have you ever wandered through the woods…” after which Jen mentions to me she wants to hear “Turpentine”, and surprisingly, they continue right into that. Now, Paula and I are humored by the obligatory sing-a-long in “Turpentine”, but fortunately this one goes over a better than it did at E-town (note, the sing-a-long was edited out from the FM broadcast!). “The Story” is strong. This song in particular is much better in concert. At E-town she told the story that this was Phil’s song from his old metal band, and she eventually got up the nerve to ask him if she could sing it. Since then it’s become a popular radio staple in Colorado. Finally the set ends with a reasonable version of “Let it Be”, with both twins taking a verse (whose voices strangely sound different, considering they’re identical twins).

And then onto the encores, which are undoubtedly the highlight of the night. I bet the band went inside their backstage shack, and after freezing their butts off for over an hour, they decided it was time to crank it up a notch. And man, do they ever! A condensed version of “Jackson” signals the start of a Johnny Cash-country music bonanza. And what can I say about the most raucous, lively, and wonderful version of the “Folsom Prison Blues” that I’ve heard? It’s quite long, with Tim picking some great guitar, and Brandi singing the hell out of that song. Afterward Brandi takes the stage by herself to pay homage to her favorite old country music. Among storytelling and snippets of songs like “D-I-V-O-R-C-E” and “I Don’t Wanna Play House” she pulls off a wonderful and complete version of “Stand By Your Man”. Then she tells the story of her self-penned ultimate cliché country song “Same Old You”, which is also a highlight. And finally, the band joins her for a dramatic “Pride and Joy”. In all, whatever the concert lacked for time, it more than made up for with a fantastic performance.

After that, we experience a final party-bus trip down the Poudre canyon with another hippie-bus-driver. Although many passengers yelp “Whoa” (left turn), “Whoa” (right turn), “Slow down” (left turn), “Whoa” (right turn), we get out of the canyon safely and head for home.

A great (but cold) evening!

And, for your enjoyment, here are some YouTube videos of the concert ...
Oh Dear
I Will
Touching the Ground
Dreams

Bunny Rabbits From Hell
Manhattan, KS, Blue Valley United Methodist Church - June 4, 1989

Setlist:
Wasted Years
Hypnotize
Hypnotize
Stairway to Heaven
For Whom the Bell Tolls
(Anesthesia) Pulling Teeth
Creeping Death
Guitar Solo
Am I Evil?


A few years ago, I participated in the Matter poetry-book release-party at the New Belgium Brewery in Fort Collins. And let me tell you, it was a spectacle like no other. There were adults in top hats, tutus, and loincloths. There were dancers, cheerleaders, and hula-hoop enthusiasts. There were poems about omelets, vomiting up ghosts, and hearts taking pisses. There was a man playing a cardboard box and another wearing a dress and reciting poetry about disco. In short, it was a free-for-all!

The Bunny Rabbits From Hell live at the Blue Valley United Methodist Church on June 4, 1989, that also was a free-for-all!

Incompetence was plentiful that night and talent was in short supply. Being a Sunday, Neil wasn't allowed to participate, which was a shame considering he was the only decent musician in the band. Instead, throughout the night we rotated between Andy Van Meter, Ben Stamey, and me behind the drum kit. Our set featured the never rehearsed Wasted Years, the rarely rehearsed Stairway to Heaven (I remember Paul reading the lyrics directly from my cheap Led Zeppelin song book), the never rehearsed For Whom the Bell Tolls, and the never rehearsed Am I Evil?. Sharon Schumann even attended the concert at our request to perform the duet with Paul during the never rehearsed and subsequently never performed Battle of Evermore. Even songs that we should have known, Hypnotize and Creeping Death, were hardly distinguishable from random noise. At one point, our band's famous poster with our fearless rabbit crashed down onto the drum set. At another point, my amp nearly exploded. There were limitless amounts of feedback, which were sometimes drowned out by insanely loud yelling and screaming. And to top it off, Paul had the nerve to sing lyrics like "I'm creeping death", "my mother was a witch, she was burned alive", and "am I evil?" at a church lock-in. I'm honestly surprised that we didn't get thrown out. Or at least get the plug pulled on us.

I recall having a raging headache most of the next day. No wonder why.


Oh, and here's the logistics. John Stamey set us up with his church for this, our second concert, and our second youth-lock-in. We played in the annex behind the church, in a cinder block room in the corner of the upstairs.

And as for the videotape, alas, I doubt it even exists anymore. That's too bad, because I was sure my homemade Metallica Kill Em All tank-top featuring one stick figure offing another would make for great cinema. Sadly we miss out on Ben Stamey's incessant crotch zooms. And, I remember a touching moment during Stairway to Heaven when Ben captured the face of a girl near tears. I suppose we'd been successful at making her eardrums bleed.

But the good (or bad news, depending on your point of view) is that an audio tape survived so that our descendents will have the fortune (or misfortune) of experiencing, as Paul said, "us, the one and only BRFH!".


If you want to experience the melee from the Blue Valley United Methodist Church, click here to download the audio recording from that chaotic night.

... And for a you bass players who need a challenge, see if you can decipher John Stamey's handwritten music for the show. Note, he was as prepared to play The Battle of Evermore as the rest of the band.

“Never walk away from a free pinball game.” - Neil Coleman, May 1989

Bunny Rabbits From Hell
Manhattan, KS, Manhattan Community Center - May 12, 1989

Setlist:

Eruption
Hypnotize (scratch)
Hypnotize
Fade to Black (scratch)
Fade to Black (scratch)
Crash Course in Brain Surgery (scratch)
Crash Course in Brain Surgery
Crash Course in Brain Surgery
Patience (scratch)
Patience (scratch)
Patience (scratch)
Guitar Solo
Fade to Black
Patience


… At least that’s how Neil explained why, moments after walking away from his sparkle blue Ludwig drum kit during our first concert, the other four of us witnessed him playing a round of pinball before walking out the door. We were just thankful that he’d been there at all, considering Neil was the only one of us who showed any musical talent in the 8th grade.

But before I get ahead of myself, let me point out the historical nature of this story. On this date 20 years ago the Bunny Rabbits From Hell made their public debut at the Church of Christ lock-in in the basement of the Manhattan Community center. For starters, it’s well established that the most reliable gig for a young heavy metal band is the church lock-in, and the BRFH made a living on them. Travis gets all the credit for getting the ball rolling on this one.

To call this event a concert would have been stretching the truth. I’m not sure it could have even been called a rehearsal. If you didn’t take into consideration that we were all thirteen or fourteen years old, you might have called it incompetent. There was no setlist. There was our classic BRFH poster with the bunny rabbit. There was no PA. There were two plug-ins on the Kalamazoo, one for John’s bass and one for Paul’s microphone. There wasn’t any sound from the Kalamazoo once John spilt his soda all over it. There was Hypnotize. There was no guitar solo to Fade to Black. There was John slapping Travis for not playing the guitar solo to Fade to Black. There almost was no drummer. But there was plenty of free pinball.

That’s because Neil’s folks wouldn’t let him stay overnight through Sunday morning. So, in compromise, he got to stay for part of the gig until his parents took him home, essentially ruining the whole “lock-in” concept. It was certainly funny, considering that our audience was primarily hovering around these two pinball games, to see our drummer stand up mid-song, walk over to the crowd, and to start playing pinball. Not to be daunted, though, Travis’ friend Maritza jumped behind the drums, and we continued on as if nothing happened.

Beyond that, what else would you expect a fourteen year old to remember after 20 years…?

Of course, if you want to know what you missed or need your memory jarred, click here to download the audio recording from that historic night.

And about the venue, the Manhattan Community Center was a great old brick building on the corner of 4th and Humbolt. It had a legendary basketball court upstairs, where I fondly remember doing somersaults in Wee Wigglers when I was four. It’s no longer open to the public after the city’s parks and recreation department took it over as office space. A real pity.

Finally, this may be 20 years overdue, but to Travis, sorry about slapping you. That was totally uncalled for.

The BRFH - The Early Days

As one drives east on the curvy highway that leads to Zeandale out of my hometown of Manhattan, KS, he unknowingly pass a landmark of utmost importance to the world of music, or more specifically to my world of music. About a mile down and on the south side is a black mailbox, and nailed to its post is a weatherworn board with the name "Frank" carved into it.

In 1988 that sign resided in a different place, next to its brethren "3313" in front of my childhood home on Musil Dr. Understand, it was a certain rite of passage in those days that when young men became of age they were sent to Mr. Gobber’s middle-school shop class and came home with the ubiquitous yard sign: a concrete base, a square iron post, a wooden marquee, and a twisted iron top. The only difference was what you inscribed on it. Scott had chosen "3313" so I chose "Frank".

Since moving to Colorado I’ve spent many a conversation describing what it’s like to grow up in Kansas. My answer is always the same. It’s great; you have to invent your own fun. This never applied better than a fine fall day in 1988 when facing sheer boredom, my friends (I believe it was John Stamey and Travis Buzzell, but I do apologize if I’m wrong) livened up the afternoon by running around our front yard karate chopping everything in sight. It was more acting than hard kicking. So imagine our surprise when the fatal blow was applied to old "3313". For some reason we thought it was hilarious. All of the sudden we were real hoodlums.

So we did what any self-respecting gang would do, we terrorized the neighborhood. We fake-kicked every single Mr. Gobber sign that we saw. Up Frontier Ln. Around Givens Rd. Down Overlook Dr. The Finck’s house. The Whalen’s house. The Stamey’s house. It was a hoot.

And why am I telling you this? Because, we came up with a name for our gang that day. We were just like Hell’s Angels, but maybe not as vicious. More like Hell’s Bunny Rabbits.

The name stuck. By January our gang had softened into a volleyball team. I’d designed a logo featuring a sinister sunglasses-wearing rabbit, Sam, crushing the famous Otto ranch (west of town near Keats). We pooled our money and got a dozen or so t-shirts printed up and proudly wore them to the MMS Volleyball Fun Night. Our excitement was slightly dampened when the school’s administration deemed "hell" an obscenity and made us cover the word with masking tape. I guess it was all in a day’s work for your typical street gang. (By the way, I still have what’s left of my shirt, and I’m not sure we could have bought a cheaper fabric even if we’d tried.)

Fist Publicity Photo, circa April 1989.
(L to R) Travis, John F., Neil, Paul, John S.

So now you know the story.

Well, except for that minor detail about the band.

I suppose the idea to learn to play guitar came from Andy Van Meter. He’d been playing for several years and Travis and I were pretty much awed. Before long Travis talked his dad into a Gibson Les Paul, and I got a Yamaha RGX-112 for my second most glorious Christmas (the two tauntauns of 1980 are pretty hard to beat). And after a few weeks of practice we felt that we’d pretty much mastered the instrument. Obviously the only thing left to do was start a band.

Stamey was in on the condition that he found a guitar cord so that he could plug his dad’s Gibson EB0 bass into their infamous Kalamozoo bass amp. At some point we learned that Neil Coleman played the drums and after a couple of conversations (that had nothing to do about musical interests) convinced him to sign up. And finally it came to our attention that Paul Paukstelis could sing. He liked heavy metal. So did Travis and me. That’s about all it took to make it happen. The gang had officially become the band, The Bunny Rabbits From Hell.

That was March 12, 1989.

We started with a very ambitious schedule. Our plan was to record an album over spring break. The thought never occurred to us that it would be a problem that we had no songs. That we had never rehearsed together. That John Stamey hadn’t even been told he was in a band. The next day, March 13, we got together for the first time and started recording. Lead by our unofficial sixth member, Andy Van Meter, and minus our official third member, John Stamey (who still didn’t know there was a band), we plowed through our first song, the Trogg’s Wild Thing. After Andy went home most of the day was spent butchering various AC/DC and Metallica songs.

Click here to download the MP3s from the first BRFH rehearsal.

We quickly realized that all good bands write their own songs. And ours was a masterpiece. Hypnotize. Over the next few weeks we crafted a definitive musical statement with elements of heavy metal, rap (absolutely not), poetry, inventive vocabulary (try and find stamination in the dictionary), bagpipes, sensitive acoustic guitars, volume swells, and a speed metal guitar solo all in just over three minutes. By May (with John Stamey and guitar cord finally present) we recorded our first song. Later that month we made our public debut at the Church of Christ lock-in (more on that in future posts).

Click here to download the MP3 for the studio version of Hypnotize (note, this link goes directly to the file).


And from a handful of audio recordings emerged Monsters of Easter, our first album. Hypnotize was featured prominently and often. The rest was rounded out with a few Metallica favorites featuring Andy Van Meter on guitar. We pooled our money and bought a few packs of ALCO brand cassette tapes (you know, the ones without cases, packaged three at a time, one above the other, and hanging from a hook, altogether much like you find Wrigley’s chewing gum in the supermarket aisles today). We dubbed copies of the album and crafted an individual cover and label for each one. Of course the artwork featured our fearless rabbit, Sam.

Assembling Monsters of Easter, June 1, 1989.
(L to R) John F., Neil, Travis, John S., Paul

The following morning we set out for our last day at Manhattan Middle School with our copies of Monsters of Easter in hand. The album sold out in a few hours, which wasn’t that hard to do considering there were only ten to start with. What’s funny is none of us thought to keep a copy for ourselves.

Click here to download the the restored version of Monsters of Easter with MP3, artwork, guitar TAB and more.

Our summer break commenced with another lock-in gig, this time at the Blue Valley United Methodist Church, which was equally as incompetent as our first. And then we dedicated our summer to the heavy metal gods. Most days were an endless riff-a-rama between Travis, Paul, and me. Tons of Metallica. Plenty of Iron Maiden. A little Led Zeppelin. And finally the composition of the second wave of original BRFH songs. But that is another story...




... And for you diehards and completists out there, you can find the complete BRFH archives from 1989 here.


Misc. Notes:
For my part it is much easier to post the audio as MP3s on the server. I apologize for your inconvenience. But, on the bright side you now have to option to load the BRFH onto your iPod. Think about the joys of jogging to Hypnotize.

And finally, this must be the reason why I keep 20 year old creative writing assignments. Enjoy...

Mötley Crüe

March 2, 1990 - Bramlage Coliseum, Manhattan, KS

Probable Setlist:
Kickstart My Heart
Red Hot
Rattlesnake Shake
Too Young to Fall in Love
Shout at the Devil
Live Wire
Same Ol Suitation
Slice of Your Pie
Guitar Solo
Drum Solo
Looks That Kill
Smokin in the Boys Room
Wild Side
Girls, Girls, Girls

Encore:
Home Sweet Home
Dr. Feelgood

Opening Act: Faster Pussycat


19 years ago tonight! Ah, such good memories. Like the image of a man in thong sitting at his throne while bashing out classic rock on an electric drum set perched on platform suspended from the rafters...

On second thought, maybe they’re not so good memories. Come to think of it, I’m kinda disappointed in myself for thinking that Mötley Crüe was once cool. Let’s be honest, these guys are just disgusting. Sure, Too Fast For Love is still charming in that 80s glam rock sort of way. But, by the time Brett Scott tracked down a copy of the Tommy Lee/Pamela Anderson video I cringed with the memory that I had once seen that butt with my own eyes. Ugh.

But, do consider that Mötley Crüe’s visit to Manhattan was pretty much the biggest event of 1990. It was another one of those anyone who was anyone was there that night. And of course, I was there with Travis and Paul. And yes, it was fantastic!

Yet the most memorable images from that night were the desperately pathetic shenanigans of Tommy Lee. At one point the lights went off and a spotlight illuminated a platform hanging from the ceiling of Bramlage Coliseum. Standing on top was the gangly, semi-nude body of Mr. Lee and his portable drum kit. “F@#$ yeah! Do you motherf@#$ers remember last tour when I played the drums upside down?” (crowd) Yeah! “Well, some f@#$ers asked me, ‘Tommy, how are you going to top that?’ Well, you can’t get any higher than playing from the f@#$ing roof!” (crowd) Yeah! “So I’m gonna’ f@#$ing play some of my favorite songs for all you f@#$ers!” (crowd) Yeah!

Then there was a boom-boom-bash and he was jamming to Led Zeppelin. I think it was Custard Pie. It wasn’t the full song, and after about four bars the music from the PA abruptly switched to The Ocean. Then the platform started to move across the ceiling at an absurdly slow rate. For bars later it changed again to Kashmir. The platform started to spin at an even more lethargic pace. Tommy Lee was just pounding the skins in pure delight to the beat of John Bonham. A few bars later the theme switched to ACDC and their anthem Back in Black. Eventually the platform mercifully stopped and the drummer rappelled down to the stage where he proceeded to moon the audience.

At only just 15 years of age I thought, “Geez, it was much cooler when he played upside down.”

But don’t get me wrong, I had a great time March 2, 1990. Even as I shutter in disgust thinking about those guys.


Notes: This was in support of the "Dr. Feelgood" tour, which lasted from October 1989 to August 1990.

If you're bored you can hear the BRFH discuss the upcoming Mötley Crüe here.

And, if you're even more bored you can hear Tyler and myself try and recreate Tommy Lee's drum solo circa 1992 here.

By the way, if you want to experience the real thing click here to see the Tommy Lee solo from Kansas City a few months earlier.

January 13, 2009 - Centennial, WY

2+ weeks later and it's still there.

By the way, yesterday's weather was really crappy ... if you couldn't tell.

John

Morons

January 6, 2009 - Centennial, WY

Why do morons drive snow-closed roads during the winter? John K. and I found this Bronco last week (December 30th) on Wyoming highway 130 about a quarter-mile past the obvious "Road Closed" sign (also where the even more obvious foot-and-a-half snowpack begins). I'm pretty sure it will be stuck here until May.


Where the hell was he going? There's only about 20 more miles of snow closed highway until you get over the pass.

John