Subject: left trick article?
hi. my name is sheila, and my boyfriend is in a band that hasnt had much exposure. i was just wondering on what the posibility that you or someone that works with you would be interested in interviewing them? they are a great band of a bunch of friends. their music is a mix of...well i guess i really cant explain. nothing funky like though.
THANX A MILLION!
Subject: left trick article?
Since you are the first person to ever send me an email, I'd be glad to mention your boyfriend's band in an article.
Do they have a bio? A press kit? A CD? Do they play shows? Tell me something about these punks.
P.S. If you really want someone to write an article on your behalf (or on the behalf of your boyfriend) it's customary to compliment them on their work, or at least acknowledge that you've read their stuff.
Subject: left trick article?
Dear Strapping Dan:
I JUST LOVE YOUR WORK! seriously though. thank you so much for actually writing me back. Here's the BIO of my boyfriends band.
name: LEFT TRICK
members: MARC V---- - bass
SCOTT D---- - lead guitar-vocals
TOM G----- - rhythm guitar
MATT G----- - drums
first we'll start with marc. He's my boyfriend. He wants to be a firefighter someday. (couldn't tell you why) 17 years old. favorite food: spaghetti
PERSONAL QUOTE:"IM LIKE ZENA!" "IF WERE ALREADY HERE FROM NOW THEN THINK ABOUT 10 MINUTES AGO?!"
Then there is Scott ... he wants to own his microbrewery name $100 bill brewing co. fav candy: hot pockets
PERSONAL QUOTE: "THOMAS JEFFERSON? ISN'T HE ON THE NICKEL? I DIG NICKELS!"
Now onto Matt. He is the twin bro of tom. He wants to be an engineer or a sniper. PERSONAL QUOTE:" I DONT KNOW , NO REALLY I DONT KNOW."
Then there is the "evil twin" just kidding. Tom. He wants to be a biological engineer. Fav color: blue. fav actress Ashley NOT Mary Kate olden actor: PERSONAL QUOTE:" YOU CANT GO BUY A NEW PAIR OF SHOES WITHOUT CATCHING A MOUSE. (he barks while he plays the guitar)
some of the bands biggest insperations are Green Day, Led Zepplin, and Bucherry(YAHHH!)
i took my friend with me to their practice, and she rated them ****1/2 (4 1/2) 1-5 scale. they are very good. i would say.
the reason i think that the band does so well is that they have all known eachother since 2nd grade. the reason that they want to get into the music business, is well bucherry put it best: "life aint nuthin but bitches and money"
one of their best memories is when they were doing something on a dirt road and the seen a jeep cherokee roll. as tom put it "watching the dumb fucker roll" was a really good memory.
if they could have anything in the world for the band, they would want to make it bigger than the parking lot...selling cds out of the trunk ya know?
that is pretty much all i have at this point in time.
THANK YOU FROM THE MOON AND BACK!!!!!
p.s. the band wants to thank a couple of people to? Jesse S------ for helping with everything, Jeff W------- for helping with the demo cd, bob the builder(a dad), and susan from tacobell, for being the slowest bitch in the world!!!!!!!!!!!
p.s.s. do you think if maybe we sent you a demo cd you could give them some advice? let me know.
Subject: left trick article?
Thanks for the bio. The band sounds really good.
I'd be happy to listen to their CD. I bet it's incredible.
I plan to mention Left Trick in an upcoming article. It will focus primarily on the drummer. If you actually bother to read Riff this month, you'll see how I've cleverly set it up.
Have a swell Thanksgiving.
Yet Another Dead Drummer:
A Christmas Tale That Can't Be Beat
I type today with tear-stained knuckles. Local musician Davey Patterson died last week. Davey was a drummer who couldn't keep time to save his life (more on that later). He played less than five live shows over the course of his four-decade career. There are no known recordings of Davey.
He was a lousy musician and a worse drummer but he was an incredibly dedicated dreamer. He never gave up on rock and roll, even when it was obvious that his miserable life could have been beautiful if he would only find a hobby that didn't send everyone running away with their hands over their ears. Many people considered Davey delusional. Screw them. There's a word for those people. That word is “psychologists”. Davey was in and out of the bughouse for much of his life. He was often heard to say, “Please, please, please don't send me back to that place. I'll do anything.”
“Anything?” we would say as the straightjacket was draped over his head.
“Anything!” he would say.
“Stop acting so flippin' crazy!” we would say. Then the van's doors would slam shut and Davey, screaming and pounding his nose against the rear window, would be sped away to a mental hospital.
We were cruel. Davey was crazy. He did all sorts of crazy things. I don't have time to tell you about even one of them. Anyway, it wouldn't be right. This is a Christmas article, not a character assassination.
Davey wore a mink stole until it was stolen. He had glasses with no glass in the frames, which he kept in the front pocket of his bathrobe, which he also wore until he was robbed. Enough about Davey's clothes. These were his only four gigs:
1) Open mic at Chaucer's Electric Cloud Café Thursday, July 12 1969 . (“They loved me”-Davey. “They booed him off the stage and told him never to come back”-Davey's friend, Stanley.)
2) Daisy Hill Retirement Home, Spring 1976 (“We could have done better.”-Davey. “Three people died during ‘Moby Dick'”- Hospital records.)
3) Opened for the Who at Folsom Field 1989. (“Actually, I played a five gallon bucket in the parking lot until I was arrested for public nudity.” –Davey. “He idolized Keith Moon.”-Davey's shrink.)
4) Hungry Hank's Hamburger Bar, Thornton , December 7, 2002 . (“Grrrar.”—Davey. “Incredible.”—Everyone who was there.)
Since it killed him I will elaborate on the final gig. It was his first show with his new band. (Davey responded to at least three “Guitarist/Bassist Looking for Drummer” ads every week for fifteen years. That's two thousand three hundred and forty try-outs. For fifteen years he had no luck; not even as an emergency substitute. A band would rather cancel a gig than invite Davey onstage. Then, strangely, at his 2,341 st audition, he finally made the cut. The Heavy Johnsons loved him. No one knows how it happened, but he didn't suck. He also became sane. No more tempo problems, no more electro shock therapy. I can't verify any of this.) So he got in the Heavy Johnsons and they got a gig. According to the surviving members of the Heavy Johnsons the show was unbelievable, all because of Davey's skin work. “The beats were coming from another world.” Says Sprung Johnson, lead singer, “It was like both of Bonham's arms were in his left arm, Mitch Mitchell's left leg was in his right arm, and his legs were the pistons in the Titanic . Glasses were breaking, man. He was on fire and that made us all play better. It was MONSTROUS.”
They played an hour of ultra high-octane extreme classic rock and took a set break. Johnson continues, “Davey didn't want to stop. He was covered with sweat and you could see the blood pumping in the veins in his forehead. But we had to stop. The union doesn't take kindly to bands that don't stop.”
Davey was dead before the band got back onstage. The autopsy found tons of crank, a teaspoon of acid, and--in his stomach--half a pack of cigarettes that had been swallowed whole. None of these were the cause of death. Davey died from lack of oxygen to brain due to coronary arrhythmia. This is ironic, of course.
All his life, the only steady rhythm Davey had was in his heart. It was his heart that dragged him to audition after audition. It was his heart that kept him focused on his dream of rock and roll and gave him the strength to persevere in the light of unfathomable incompetence and a severe mental disorder.
That final night he somehow willed his heart to grant a steady tempo to his limbs. But as his arms and legs pumped life into the Heavy Johnsons, Davey's heart forgot how to pump its own blood and so he died.
Here, in its entirety, is Davey Patterson's last will and testament:
“Everything but my drums goes to Stanley . Give my drums to my son or if I don't have a son, then give them to my daughter or if I don't have a daughter, give them to the winner of an essay contest whose topic shall be ‘Are Drums a Viable Outlet for Anger?' The judge of the contest shall be Strapping Danforth, the only music journalist to tell it like it is.”
Davey was impotent and his extensive time in institutions disqualified him as an adoptive parent, which left him without an heir which means that this is your chance, young drummers. Here are the essay contest rules: Essays must be under 1000 words in length. They must be submitted by December 28, 2002 . Excessive cutesiness is grounds for automatic disqualification. The winner will be announced and printed in next month's issue of Riff.
Essays can be submitted mailed to Riff magazine or sent via email to: firstname.lastname@example.org.
--Strapping Danforth, Nov, 2002
Sent: November 18, 2002
Is there an age limit on the essay contest?
Sent: November 19, 2002
There is no age limit on the essay contest. Davey loved children and adults equally. No pets, though.
Kevin (on behalf of strapping dan)