FWAK!
A chance meeting with Stacy Thunes before Zappa junior played Zappa senior at London’s
Royal Albert Hall led to me contacting her brother, Scott. Would he be
interested in being interviewed for my humble little site? “Sure
thing. I got no problems with the historicals.
Lay them on me. But I hope you don't mind if I lie my
ass off.” This was just before I flew off to Zappanale #17, and I wanted to delay things – but Scott said “Gimme something before you go.” So I quickly rattled off a
bunch of questions, fully expecting to see his reply on my return – but no, his
response was immediate: full of wit, sarcasm and hilarity. He dismissed some of
my more inane questions, pointing me in the direction of Thomas Wictor’s excellent book In
Cold Sweat: Interviews With Really Scary Musicians.
Of course, I wanted to take it further and, on my return from Germany, I did.
And he came through. In spades. So here it is, in all its bereft-of-ass
greatness.
IB: Do you have fond memories of Zappa’s Universe?
ST: Wow. That’s
interesting. I’ve never been asked that before. Um, yes, and of course, no. The
‘yes’ is big. Orchestra. Real musicians. Late-night partying with Virgil Blackwell
that sticks with me to this very day. Being treated like a valued resource by
people with far more talent than I will ever have. Have I sucked up enough to
orchestral musicians yet? No? Well, I haven’t gotten started yet. That girl
with the backless suit. The ‘no’ is pretty big, too. I had recently written my
only composition, a Duo For Violin And
Cello that pretty much rocked. I’d brought copies of it for possible
classical-musician-performance and I was quite excited. There was a cute blond
violinist who was excited to look at it/perform it, as she’d just started a duo
and needed material. I gave her the score. Later that night, the actual first
violinist (a distinguished African-American gentleman who I regret to not
remember the name of) asked me if I’d let him have a copy of the score as well
and I demurred, saying that I was giving ‘first performance’ rights to the
person who’d asked first. Fucking bitch never got back in touch with me and
therefore I dropped the chance to have at least one more person look at my
music before I lost part of the original score and can’t recreate it because it
was in an ancient Macintosh program format and nobody uses it anymore and I
can’t make more copies and that piece is lost to history because of my
short-sightedness. So, that’s bad. Also, I lost the keys to the apartment of
the really nice lady who was allowing us to stay at her place. Also, I had a
crush on the daughter of the conductor and she was really nice and she blew me
off. Also, and this should sit higher on the list, but it’s been dealt with
already (during my first years on the Internet, I had a nice back-and-forth
with the subject of this story), but one of my favourite moments in rock and a
showpiece for me at the concert was ruined by the keyboard player who forgot to
switch the sound on the MiniMoog synthesizer (that I used for the bass part on Sofa #1) from the lead sound he was
using on the previous song back to a useful bass tone. I stood there like a
chump on the floor riser in front of hundreds of paying customers for thirty
seconds or so twiddling knobs like an amateur as I realized in horror that I
was not going to be able to play the MiniMoog as I’d done on every single
performance of that song since I’d been playing with Frank (not that I’d ever
played it before working with him) and I was going to have to jump back on the
stage and grab my bass guitar and play it on that, learning the fingerings on
the fly and attempting to grab the correct attitude out of the ether while
alternately squinting my eyes in furious fuming and glaring at the offending
keyboardist who was watching aloft from the wings. I ruined his evening by
giving him a load of shit in front of his parents after the concert (I
apologize!). Other than that: bonus!
IB: You describe
yourself as an ex-musician: when was your last gig?
ST: I played
several casual gigs this year: last week, I played a wedding with a guitarist
friend of mine. We drove about a hundred miles to play a gig overlooking 4,000
acres of
IB: Think
you’ll ever play professionally again – what would it take to get you out of
your self-imposed exile?
ST: Since we’ve
recently experienced my wife getting a raise and our car payments ending, we’ve
been doing pretty well. I don’t think there’d be anything that could get me to
leave my family for several months at a time. I mean, really: How the fuck is a
family supposed to function without one of the members of the Parent Class MIA
for long periods of time? I love her too much to leave her or my children for
more than a couple of days anyway. She’s always asking me if I need a rest,
would I like to go have a beer with the boys, get out of the house for a bit,
and I always say no. Well, most of the time. Alternately, the question is kinda
loaded. I was never exiled, self-imposed or not. The only reason I was in music
is the same reason most musicians are in music: I needed money and I could make
some plying my trade, or whoring myself out, whichever you prefer (for those
musicians of the world that ‘need’ to make music, please disregard the previous
sentence and remain ‘needy’; us listeners thank you). Once I was unable to make
money – for whatever reason – I quit trying to make more money at it.
IB: Are you
still composing?
ST: Nope. I
haven’t really touched pen to paper since the debacle with the Duo For Violin And Cello. My musical
self-directed adventures are limited to a project I’m thinking of where I’ll
post songs to one of my web pages that have a limitation of one hour spent on
Garageband. That is to say, I’ll spend an hour on Garageband and whatever I end
up with, I’ll post. An entire album of simple things that just pop out of my
fingers and head is I think a worthy exercise. Other than that, I’m hoping to
put something together with my family. My son plays drums (he’s almost five)
and my daughter sings something scary good. I still have plans to teach my wife
the bass (it doesn’t take much to be a bass player in a rock band, that we all
know) and I’ll play guitar or keys or accordion. But the most important thing
is, I’ll finally be in a band with some friends instead of an orchestral
hired-hand like every other band I’ve ever been in, professionally-speaking.
IB: When I
spoke with Ed Mann, he said he finally was able to appreciate your “unique
sense of humour”….and “would welcome the opportunity to play with [him]
anytime.” What are the chances?
ST: Well,
pretty damn high, considering. I mean, playing with Ed wouldn’t even remotely
‘bring up’ any bad feelings from him specifically, if that’s what you mean. Ed
and I are thoroughly reconciled.
IB: If someone
has a huge talent, do you think it’s kind of a waste not exploiting it to its
full potential, or is it just a sad fact of life that unless someone else spots
it and thinks they can make some money from it, it will remain hidden away –
therefore being happy and contented is really far more important?
ST: It’s a
waste, sure, but name me one thing about this life that isn’t tainted with some
kind of delightful horribleness. The fact that an artist, or a creative person
in any way can be thwarted and have their talents either disregarded or ruined
by the System of the World is small potatoes compared to the pressing problems
that face Humanity. Namely, the Boy Band Factory and the company that produces
those plastic six-pack holders (hi, uncle Bob!).
IB: Was it your
idea to bung a bit of Bartok into Packard
Goose on the 88 tour?
ST: Nope.
Frank’s. He asked me to orchestrate it, and the Stravinsky, for the band. He
tweezed it a bit, so it’s not ‘reeeely’ all mine, but I take credit for it
because he stole credit for the music for Promiscuous,
as bad as it is.
IB: Comparing
the two versions of The Deathless Horsie
on SUNPYG and YCDTOSA Vol 1, did you have an influence on the variations apparent
in the latter over the original more laid back recording?
ST: I have no
idea what you’re talking about. Seriously. I have never heard those two
versions back-to-back nor have I ever compared any two performances of mine
from live tapes or records or what-have-you. Any influence I may have imparted
to that type of improvised music of Frank’s was purely coincidental and no
meaning should be impugned.
IB: Your
audition piece for Frank was Mo N Herb’s Vacation
– did you ever record that (or Mo’s
Vacation) for him?
ST: Nope. We
were going to do a rock-band/orchestral concert in
IB: What do you
know about the song Solitude that
Frank wrote for Gail?
ST: I’m sorry
you brought that up. Sadness. I recorded many, many tapes during the rehearsal
phase of 1981. Most of these are lost from lendings or movings. The tape that
contained the sole performance of that song was given to Steve Vai as a
Zappa-Band-Member to Zappa-Band-Member Temporary InterLibrary Loan. Fucker lost
it. I would appreciate it if he’d send that baby home to me. Other than that,
it was an incredible song and I was looking mighty forward to performing it for
the rest of my time with Frank. ‘Twas not to be. DAMN.
IB: Arthur
Barrow was still Clonemeister after you joined Frank. Did he give you any
particular advice that stuck with you as regards playing bass for Frank?
ST: Nope. In
one ear and out the other was all the information I received from old Arty. He
wasn’t very one-to-one, if that’s what you mean. He was nice enough during the
initial putting-together-of-the-band and all, but he and I are not what you’d
call compatible. I do recall one item though. We were a Nike Endorsement Band
for the Eighties and we’d have to go to
IB: What can
you tell me about the session with Lisa Popeil?
ST: You mean
the original meeting? Or the week she was a full-fledged member of the ensemble
before Frank had to fire her because it was painfully obvious that she was
unable to deal with the real-music elements (ie. non-classical) of a
rock-band’s particulars? Or the time we were in the bathroom together, making
out? I don’t recall much about that particular time, so I was glad she
mentioned it in song. I fondly recall her soft smooth skin, and her bounteous
breasts and her obvious sexual passion, but I’m a gentleman and she’s a lady
and we don’t talk about such things. Also, I can’t mention what Frank told me
about her without her permission, so that will probably stay hidden until her
after her death. I love her. She’s a sweetie.
IB: Do you
think you’ve mellowed to the point where you wouldn’t now put on headphones and
do a crossword puzzle on stage during a drum/guitar duet?
ST: I deny
categorically your definition. It was stage-craft, improvised around the idea
of a non-rock situation where all elements of stage-craft are considered equal.
It wasn’t until after the tour ended that I ever heard anything at all about
that particular element of the ‘show’. My understanding of our situation was
that rock posturing is stupid and bands that participate in such behaviour are
pathetically under-brained and deserve ridicule. You’re talking about the
European Dweezil tour of 93 where I was already quite bent out of shape for
having to deal with the idiocy of one of my band members on a daily basis and
was in no mood to be told what to do, what to think, or anything at all other
than “You’re great. I like what you do with my songs and have for almost eight
years, and I won’t let the simple complication of not having had the good
fortune to tour with our first choice for that position (due to medical issues),
so if there’s any bad blood about this, I’ll just jettison the offending
party.” Instead, I was ejected (thank you, Lord!) rather than the truly
‘difficult’ member (the person who was new, who was not part of the ‘original
crew’, who was not of a sufficiently intelligent nature and therefore didn’t
‘fit in’ as I saw it), and I found that our original conception of the band –
that we were the ‘Anti-Rock’ band and our job was to show up rock stage
conventions (rock ‘face’, stances, attitudes and positions, grimaces,
head-banging, hair-throwing) for the farce that they were – changed during our
time on the road and so my previously non-offensive, part-of-the-proceedings “schtick” stuck out like a sore thumb due to a conflict
with Dweezil’s apparent search for ‘seriousness’. Never in a million years
could I have imagined that he would have switched over to a place in his mind
where what we had all previously imagined and unwritteningly decided was thrown
away to make way for his ‘music’, and that the proper stance for listening was
pure concentration. I did what I did because I thought it was funny, not
because I thought it would hurt him. Story of my life, apparently.
IB: The story
about sticking you cock in Bruce Fowler’s face to shut him up – true or false?
ST: Super-duper
true. Double true, dat.
IB: On a scale
of one to 26, just how scary do you think you are?
ST: One.
IB: Did your
brother Derek ever try again to get into Frank’s band after you’d joined?
ST: Nope. He
concentrated on parking cars (like I had) and composition (like I wished I had)
and then he got in a very bad motorcycle accident that eventually killed him
(complications from AIDS).
IB: You said
the Vai tour was “hellish” – what was so bad about it?
ST: Pass. I am keeping these things to myself.
He’s a nice guy, I’ve heard. And I have no urge to dispel that myth.
IB: Is Tommy
Mars really an alien?
ST: Huh? He’s a
nice guy. I love him. Wished things went better between us, but personalities
are what they are. Musically, he’s the most advanced individual I’ve ever had
the pleasure of playing with. I wish him double-happiness for the rest of his
life.
IB: What
memories do you have of Napoleon Murphy Brock on the 84 tour?
ST: He was
great. I loved the way he stayed in bed ‘til it was time to leave for our first
gig (
IB: Do you
think Frank put out too much stuff from the 84 tour (eg.
on the YCDTOSA series) simply because
it was well recorded?
ST: Frank liked
clean sounds, tight bands, and no mistakes. I don’t really care for that stuff
all that much so I am not really able to gauge his recordings using those
criteria. I liked the dangerous elements of the 88 tour, where one didn’t know
if one was going to hear a gigantic fucking-up right after a righteous
exaltedness or what.
IB: Think
ST: Sorry.
Don’t follow sports of any kind. But horses are horribly mistreated in that
particular situation and should be left to roam the high chaparral in peace
along with the Aardwolf,
the Black-tailed Jackrabbit, the Cactus Wren, the Golden Jackal,
the Grey Fox, the Puma, the San Joachin Kit Fox, the Spotted Skunk,
and the Wild Goat.
IB: You’re featured
playing with Terry Bozzio on Rhythmatist on Dweezil’s new album – I assume that is an old Z outtake?
ST: Yep. I had
to look it up on the Dweezil website to find
explanations of what they were. Actually, they’re not ‘outtakes’ as much as
‘end of tape’ takes. We always filled out the last couple of minutes of tape
with random ‘grooves’ or ‘jams’ or ‘hate filled diatribes’. Since I got paid
$300/week, I never knew what was going to end up on an album unless I had to do
overdubs (because we’d sometimes record up to 20 songs a day, my memory of any
particular surrounding recordings with the Dweez are
utterly devoid of content). I didn’t even remember doing ‘end of tape’ takes
with Terry. Cool! I think we sound like Red-era
King Crimson.
IB: When I interviewed
Joe Travers about your departure from Z, he said you had problems with him. “He
has problems with a lot of people. He had been working with Dweezil
for a long time. It just ran its course pretty much. You should ask Scott.” So?
ST: Sounds
pretty damn good to me. Good on ya, mate! OK,
whatever. I offered to perform fisticuffs upon Joe’s person for throwing drum
sticks into the audience after telling him repeatedly that this was NOT A GOOD
THING as people have a propensity to throw things back. Sure, a Joe Travers
Drum Stick is something that most people would fetish like a…well, a fetish.
But, like they say in Men In Black (the movie): “A person is smart, but people are
dumb.” Throw something broken with splinters sticking out of it into a
post-rock concert crowd and you’ll watch me cower in abject fear. Joe not only
couldn’t ‘get’ it, but argued with me all the way down the stairs into the
backstage area. Mike K was with me so he’ll corroborate. I kept on Joe until I
was nearly apoplectic. He never backed down, bless his pointed little heart,
but it just inflamed me all the more. I apologized, but I got no joy back. He
said: I accept your apology, but I’ll never forgive you. Whoa. Cut off, dood. When I got home from auditioning with the Waterboys in NY after the tour was over, I got a call from Dweezil, firing me. He said he needed ‘nice’ people in his
band because he couldn’t afford to have separate rooms for each of his band
members (even though he flew First Class all the time and stayed in Four Star
hotels wherever we went). You see, we alternated sharing rooms and, after the
argument with Joe, we got to stay by ourselves (something band-leaders should
take into account when booking tours). Sure, most bands use a single van as
their hotel, but how many Zappa-quality musicians would do a van tour of the
IB: How would
you rate Dweezil as a musician/composer? Were song
ideas with Z greatly influenced by you and/or Keneally?
ST: I
absolutely loved playing with Dweezil specifically
because of his thoroughly fecund musical imagination. For a year and a half,
Josh Freese and I (hi, Josh - how’s the Eternal Tour
going?) would rehearse the shit out of Dweezil’s
bedroom noodlings and turn them into nuggets of pure
golden ambrosia. Those few months really were part of the reason I remained
mostly unfazed by my lack of financial success and Other-Than-Zappa musical
possibilities, keeping me happily sucking at the teat (or, more to the point,
shooting up the China White) of the Zappa Family instead of getting off my ass
and GETTING A JOB, as they say. I really shoulda, coulda been a contender if it weren’t for them Damn Zappas and their Damn Music (this is a joke).
IB: Ahmet seems very unlike Dweezil;
extroverted and extremely funny. I imagine you two got on like a house on fire?
Miss him?
ST: Love Ahmet to death. He was very much a Zappa the entire time I
knew him, so he was funny yet distant. He wanted nothing more than to have fun
and laugh with his older brother, but other humans amused him at times. He and
I shared hardly anything in common but we respected each other. The one time I
tried to turn him on to some art was going up to his bedroom and trying to play
him Plan Nine From
Outer Space. He got bored rather quickly. But he was in his early teens so
I couldn't have expected TOO much...he was addicted to comics
right then.
IB: Do you have
any contact with the Zappas these days?
ST: Not really.
A couple of years back, I got a phone call from Gail (my phone number hasn’t
changed since I moved up from LA eleven years ago) asking me if I’d like to be
involved in Zappaween.
I said yes, and got a phone call directly from the biggest music promoter in
IB: Did you
enjoy the show?
ST: I DID! They
(the musicians on hire) comported themselves admirably. Had
to take a couple of pee breaks so I unfortunately missed the drum solo section
and one other part that I can’t remember. Other than that, they rocked
the world.
IB: Do you
still have any contact with Mike Keneally or Ike
Willis?
ST: Strangely
enough, Mike never calls when he comes up to
IB: How did the
invitation to play at Zappanale #13 come about?
ST: My sister
Stacy met the guy who puts it on. He asked her what I was doing and she had a
brainstorm that we should perform live on stage for the very first time in our
40s after never having any previous artistic combinatorality.
I jumped at the chance. Of course, free airfare, a week in
IB: Do you
still rate Green Day?
ST: Strangely
enough, more than ever. During that interview where I mentioned them, I had
really only heard the Longview CD
single which contained two live cuts along with the main song, so I had no idea
of their catalogue. Subsequent to that time, I’ve seen them live (nice show at
the Bill Graham Auditorium in SF almost seven years ago) and turned my children
on to them by accident. I got International
Supervideos for my wife as a joke last year for
Christmas, but to this day she’s never seen it (she’s got the hots for Billie Joe, as do we all). My children, on the
other hand, demand to see it every Movie Day (we only watch movies one day a
week and have no cable) along with their Chosen Film, and they’ve managed to
turn me into a fan all over again. Waiting
and Warning are two of my current
favourite songs. My wife was listening to American
Idiot a lot last year and I became enamoured of the Jesus of Suburbia Suite, even though the title leaves much to be
desired. On another note, my children’s actions have this to say about them:
Virgil, my Drumming Son (who is five in a month) sings Green Day songs (along
with Weezer songs) CONSTANTLY, and can be found
improvising lyrics to their melodies whilst pooping (right before the Eternal
Refrain: “Mom/Dad…Will You Wipe My Bottom”) and playing with his robots. He’s
learned the basic riff of Smoke On The Water and the counter-melody and ending riff to
Boulevard Of Broken Dreams. Hazle, my Dancing Daughter, is more of a conceptualist and
thinks that the videos are superb.
IB: When did
you last cry, and why?
ST: My wife and
I cry at store openings. Probably some ad in a magazine or commercial that I
thought was done with such genius and attention to human needs for art and
loving communication (while not insulting the audience’s intelligence) that
causes me a deep emotional reaction. We do that CONSTANTLY. I’ll find
something, or she’ll find something, and we’ll show it to each other, and as
one or the other looks up at the other, we’ll have this look on our faces,
like: “AWWWWW”…but with a “isn’t that sweet but totally correct and intelligent
and not at all tasteless or base or bathetic or twee” type of attention to
basic humanity. Other than that, I think it was a recent communication from a
friend who was very eloquent about a difficult situation.
IB: How does
your wife put up with you?
ST: I’m going
to take the high road here and assume you mean What Does My Wife Think Of Me In General, because there’s nothing even remotely
special about how difficult I am to live with. I don’t gamble, I don’t steal
her money, I don’t carouse around with other women (although the thought has
crossed my mind), and I don’t drink to excess (in fact, I quit drinking my
beloved beer at the start of the Summer because of my encroaching belly). I am
lazy and distracted and can’t complete projects and I’m not a house cleaner and
the basement and the backyard are conceptually messy but no more so than most.
I love my wife to distraction and find her funny, sexy, beautiful and adorable.
I make love to her as much as I possibly can (which isn’t nearly enough, thanks
to schedules and tiredness and advanced age and rambunctious children and the
damn phone and her brother downstairs always listening in with his high-tech
spy equipment and his periscope) and make sure she gets an orgasm every time we
do it but I’m not mechanical about it nor do I get angry when I can’t…well, YOU
KNOW (when it’s more Claes Oldenburg’s Soft Drum Set
than Eiffel Tower, if you get my meaning). I’m a sporadic cook and only know
three things to do but when I do them, they’re very edible and I get high marks
from the family (along with cleaned dishes). I have a quick temper and I hate
people in general. I’ve scared my wife with my outbursts at people on the
street while driving (I think it’s comedy and I’m only pretending to be mad at
them, it being a parody of people who yell at people in cars, but she doesn’t
get it) and constantly make jokes that go awry. I lose friends more than I make
them from my snappy rejoinders and what I think is funny gives most people I
know the Howling Fantods, but I’m always up for a barbeque at my house and we
have regular outings with friends so there’s always somebody with us who loves
the Family. I’m a great host, always making sure people are well supplied with
libations or what-have-you, but when they leave, I heave a sigh of relief. I am
always hugging or kissing my wife, and I tell her I love her at least twenty
thousand times a day, which isn’t nearly enough for her, which rocks. We
communicate about our day and about our thoughts concerning the World, but our
innermost thoughts are rather guarded, being too dangerous to let loose
regularly. Our subsequent conversations about the dangerous stuff are gentle
and informative and we always leave them satisfied. We’ve never been mad at one
another for more than a few hours and when my wife WAS disappointed at me for a
long-term disaster I purveyed unto her she was extremely understanding
(finally) of my lacks instead of pointedly making me out to be a ‘bad person’
or what-have-you. I’m working on losing weight and have dropped 15lbs. in the
past three months. I keep to one or two espresso drinks a day and since we got
an espresso machine I save my wife billions of dollars by not going to the
Coffee Shop in San Anselmo EVERY SINGLE DAY. I don’t
ask for high-end computer or musical equipment (although I’d really like a
dedicated room for my recording junk that I can actually use [thank you,
David!] and enough electrical outlets to run them) all that much, but she’s
just gotten me a used piano (and a brand new acoustic guitar!), so she’s
obviously aware of my leanings, but she never gives me grief for my time spent
with music (probably because it’s so sporadic and seldom) as another woman
might (and they have, let me tell you, they have in the past) and I’ve made her
cry with my talents in this area so I’ve still ‘got it.’ I don’t like to repeat
myself, I don’t like to tell my children to do something more than fifty times
so I get cranky when I do, and I hate it when people give me ‘the cheek’
instead of the lips for me to kiss. Especially if I’ve known
them for years. I know people who DON’T give me the cheek and they’re
hotter Betties than the Cheek-Givers, so what’s the deal? Idiots.
I get cranky when people are mean to my wife, or when other children don’t give
my children the social respect they’ve earned and deserve, so I’ve been known
to overstep my boundaries and give younger people grief when they are obviously
incapable of handling my vitriol, but I always apologize afterwards. I’m an
excellent apologist and am extremely well-practiced at it. I am hyper-aware of
my failings so I’m always ready to hear criticism, but since most people are
incapable of seeing the correct end of a diatribe (this is sometimes evidenced
by unmeasured responses to perceived injustices; this happens to me a lot
because of my past; they just can’t seem to get over it), they think I’m
getting mad at the criticism instead of the manner in which it’s being
conveyed. In other words, I’m exactly like other men, except better, so she
knows she’s got a good thing.
IB: You seem a
very happy and contented family guy. Do you ever worry about the time when your
kids are less dependant on
you?
ST: Absolutely.
I know it’s kinda creepy – hopefully she’ll remember
this in her future, with fondness – but I tell my daughter to never leave me
and to not grow up and all that jazz. They are seriously the most adorable
things on Planet Earth, and I’ll miss them horribly when they go (even though
I’m sure I’ll be as ready to see them ejected from the pod as they’ll be to be
ejected) but when you think about it, my daughter at age six is ONE THIRD of
the way to college. One third!!! It’s disgusting to contemplate so I reject the
notion that they’ll leave me.
IB: Ever dream
about spoons?
ST: Not
recently. But I do dream about Frank, and that’s far more disturbing. I dream
about being on tour with him, and it’s always great. I’m always excited to be
about to play, and it’s mostly backstage stuff at outdoor concerts, as that was
my favourite place to be while on tour. Grass, tents,
amphitheatres, all the people, the girls, the beer, and sky and the sound of
PAs pumping out pre-concert music or the music of others. These are what
make up the majority of my pleasant memories of touring so they find themselves
inside my dreams of Frank.
IB: What do you
miss most about him?
ST: His voice. Talking to him. Listening to him pontificate about every
little thing on the planet that not only was interesting to him but to whoever
asked him a question. He was the most generous genius I’d ever met, who’d give
any moron the time of day and would explain in gracious languor and excruciating
detail elements of an idea, thought, situation or position to anybody who
asked. (If he had the time. On tour busses, he had
time.)
IB: How would
you like to be remembered?
ST: As a good
father, a good husband, and a good bass player. My sense of
humour, my giant wangus, and my attention to the
clitoris. For my bottomless ability to drink beer without becoming an
asshole, my fantastic driving skills, and my Duo For Violin And Cello. For my children
who shall go on to amazing things and have my name associated with them in its
correct role as footnote to their Greatness (as Beethoven’s and Mozart’s
fathers were footnotes to theirs). For being Frank’s
longest-concurrently-tenured musician. For having that fist fight in
Wales during the Vai tour with that guy who crashed
the backstage area drunk and waved that chicken wing at this cute vegetarian
girl who I was NOT hitting on but I felt protective of. For
the Young Republicans. For my string bass part on the Waterboy’s Love And Death. For having played string bass in a staged
performance of Stravinsky’s L’Histoire Du Soldat in San Anselmo – my
crush, Sarah Fairchild, in attendance. For being even remotely associated with
Derek Thunes’s music by conducting the only
performance of his Fantasy For Electric Violin And Jazz Band at the age of 17. For
NOT being the reason many people were unable to attend any concerts by the 1988
Frank Zappa band. Wasn’t my fault, people! Impetus or no!
***
It would be
really nice if this interview did appear in a future edition of T’Mershi
Duween but it seems unlikely. You never know. Anywho, the photo of me and Scott was taken by my good
Canadian friend, J-Roc, at London’s Roundhouse in November 2010.