Progress was slow. Brillo and Eric had the most playing experience, but none of us had done all that much of anything, and Crowbar was starting from scratch. We went over songs hundreds of times (like any other band) in an effort to put together a song list. The band needed 40 to 45 songs to complete the three hour dance format that became standardized around the area, and that took a lot of work. Every member was on the lookout for songs to match our skills. At the same time we didn’t want to be like anyone else, and tried to build an interesting list. There was great experimenting, especially via jamming, which we really didn’t know how to do, so it was really experimental.
Brillo’s older sister had one of the coolest 45 singles collections I’d ever seen. She had everything. The first time I’d heard any Cream song aside from Sunshine of Your Love was her copy of that same single, with SWLABR on the flip side. She’d collected quite a number of psychedelic songs that had recently fallen off the charts. I believe she owned a few old Beatles discs, including My Bonnie (on the Vee Jay label). The record collection and the player were in the basement near the pool table, so all got a lot of attention.
Listening to music is one thing (a very good one thing), but listening as study is something else, not unlike the reading work of a poet, or the viewing work of an artist. In fact, music, at all levels, is an art. Some of the artists are natural players gifted with perfect pitch and, to those (including me) who are less gifted, incredible technical abilities. These players come in all stripes from innovators to composers to the largely uninterested. Some of them are smart as hell, and others are dumb shits from the word go. The vast majority of us, though, are of average intelligences and playing abilities. The one thing we all have in common is that we are listening students.
So the new band was a listening band that often listened together as a band. The members were as interested in experimental listening as we were in experimental playing. That, of course, led to a strange experience around the record player in Brillo’s bedroom one afternoon. We had been rehearsing, but decided to take a break and listen to the Hendrix album Electric Ladyland. We had been lately discussing the possible properties of psychedelic music and decided to put it to the test. Crowbar, familiar with meditation techniques, suggested we spread out and find comfortable sitting position. Someone dropped the disc and Rainy Day, Dream Away (one of Brillo’s personal favorites) warmed up. By the time 1983 (A Merman I Should Turn to Be) began we had all closed our eyes and were clearing our minds enough to let the music carry us along. No drugs were involved, and yet I tripped, as I believe everyone else in that room did that day. Like any enlightenment, the immediate states of mind (which made my head feel ten feet wide) were temporary, but something from that experience stayed with me forever, and even though I’d had a few epiphanies in similar manners before, losing myself in the music that day was special. Practice was deemed officially over and we all went our ways.
Listening did not stop, however. As in so many other things, Billy D had taught me the ultimate importance of close listening and study. One of the first trainers he put me through was assisting him in procuring words from records. Billy D was friends with the lead singer and keyboardist for The Heroes and was able to borrow his copy of Are You Experienced by The Jimi Hendrix Experience. I worked on Fire because at the time a band called 5 X 5 had covered the song and made it a hit. The Heroes played it and Mook’s Session wanted to as well. We had to wear the grooves thin to put the lyrics together. Even after the hours spent, the song never made it to the playlist.
Brillo listened daily to his Hendrix collection of Electric Ladyland and Axis: Bold as Love. He and I often listened together. I didn’t own either of those albums and was glad to listen to Hendrix whenever possible. The first two Led Zeppelin albums eventually made their ways into Brillo’s collection, and they were big influences. Steppenwolf was another huge influence on me and Brillo. He owned The Second and At Your Birthday Party. Brillo loved the suite (which John Kay described as a history of the blues) that followed 28 and Magic Carpet Ride on Side Two of The Second. I loved that, too, but I liked some of the goofy songs like Don’t Cry and Around and Down from the album At Your Birthday Party.
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