The Wayback Machine
The years fly by, but every now and then time stops for a few precious hours and lets us relive and savor the past; a trip back in time to an earlier period in life—full of memories, good and bad.
On February 6, 2001, I saw REO Speedwagon live for the first time since the Good Trouble Tour in 1982. The tickets were a gift my girlfriend, Amy. The show was originally scheduled for December 3rd, but got postponed when Kevin Cronin came down with a throat infection. In true REO fashion, they rescheduled the show rather than blow it off. The extra wait made the night even sweeter.
I knew it would be an emotional night; REO’s music was a huge part of my life during my high school years in the late 70’s. Their lyrics influenced my approach to life more than my parents, my Catholic upbringing, or any of my teachers at school. Songs like Keep Pushin’, Roll With The Changes, Ridin’ The Storm Out, Music Man, Blazin’ Your Trail Again, Time For Me To Fly, and Take It On The Run taught me how to handle the bullshit that comes with being a rebellious teenager.
While my parents and the rest of their generation preached the importance of a college education, I rode around in my ‘76 Pinto with Stacy Johnson, smoking pot, listening to music and dreaming of the day I was out of school and playing music for a living. I played the drums in the high school band. Stacy played the trombone, but his real talent was on the piano. We often talked about the day when we’d become rock stars together.
I learned much about rock drumming by playing along with eight-track tape versions of You Get What You Play For, and You Can Tuna A Piano, But You Can’t Tuna Fish. Alan Gratzer’s style of drumming taught me the importance of dynamics, accents and cymbal use.
While I practiced in my basement, Stacy was down in his figuring Neal Doughty’s piano parts on songs like "Roll With The Changes", "157 Riverside Avenue", and "Son of a Poor Man". Stacy was a child prodigy. By the time he was seventeen, he could play Neil’s piano parts almost note for note. I took great pleasure standing around watching him practice the piano riffs in "157 Riverside Avenue."
In the summer of ‘78, Stacy and I went to our first REO concert. My neighborhood friend Russ Harris went with us. The show was at Wing’s Stadium, in Kalamazoo. We took my car and partied all the way there—about an hour and a half drive from where we lived, in Holland.
The show was fantastic. Few things in life equal the joy of seeing your boyhood heroes in a live setting. The band sounded even better live than they did on tape. Each member of the band did his job perfectly. Kevin Cronin’s vocals were beautiful. Gary Richrath played the shit out of his sunburst Les Paul guitar. Alan Gratzer was a phenomenal drummer; not fancy, but effective. It was such a treat to finally see him play those drum parts that I knew so well.
Not long after that first REO show, Stacy and I started our own band--Earth. Rob Matson played acoustic guitar and we had no bass player. We worked up a set list of cover songs that was heavy on REO, Styx and Foreigner. Word got around that we had a band and one of the cutest cheerleaders in our class (Sheryl Sotok) asked us to play a party at her house.
That was my first real gig. After that night, I knew how I was meant to spend my life. Playing music in front my friends and classmates was the best high I ever had. That first gig reaffirmed my belief that music was the way for me, regardless of what anyone else said. My self-esteem and self worth skyrocketed. I felt important again for the first time since my days as a little league all-star.
Then, like most bands, it came to an end; Rob got tired of Stacy teasing him for being a pretty boy, candy-ass and quit. We looked for another guitarist, but that was an almost impossible long shot in the almost non-existent Holland music scene. Stacy eventually joined another band (Back Talk) and I was left feeling abandoned. I spent the rest of my high school years without a band, missing it terribly, and watching my self-esteem sink back to it’s previous level of unworthiness.
Between 1978 and 1983 I saw REO at least ten more times. I saw indoor shows in Grand Rapids and Kalamazoo. I saw outdoor shows in Detroit, Charlevoix and Chicago. The more famous the band got, the harder it was to get tickets and the further we had to drive to see them. Every time I saw them it reminded me not give up, even though I was struggling.
I even hitchhiked to one show. In the summer of 1979, Stacy, Doug Scholten and I had tickets for the Nine Lives tour coming to Wings Stadium and we planned on taking my car. A few days before the show, I got in trouble for something and my parents took my car away. Dad even took the distributor cap off to make sure I didn’t take the car without permission--something I certainly would have done.
Doug didn’t have a car and Stacy’s Grand Marquis wouldn’t make it to Kalamazoo. We tried to find a ride but had no luck. The morning of the show, we met at Doug’s house at noon and started hitchhiking. It was hot as hell. We walked for long periods at a time and wondered if we’d ever get there. Not many people dared to pick up three red-eyed teenagers in the middle of nowhere. The heat and frustration of walking took a toll on all three of us. Doug got pissy and our mood soured as the hot afternoon wore on.
Just when things looked hopeless, some guy picked us up and took us the rest of the way. We savored his air conditioning and smoked some of our pot with him. He dropped us off right in front of the stadium. Our trip from hell was over. At the concert, we lined up rides home and enjoyed another great show.
I look back on those crazy days and think of how much has changed. Stacy is dead. He died last summer, two weeks before my twenty-year class reunion. I was in my truck, headed toward Michigan for the reunion when I got the call on my cell phone. I hadn’t talked to Stacy in at least fifteen years but the news hit me incredibly hard. I was overwhelmed with memories of him and all the crazy shit we did. I started crying, put ...Tuna Fish on my CD player, fired up a joint and made a toast to my dead friend. The second song on the ...Tuna CD, “Time For Me To Fly,” tore me up. I cried my eyes out. That night was the beginning of a 24 hour drive straight through to Michigan; memories of Stacy occupied my thoughts most of the trip.
At the reunion, there was a memorial tribute to Stacy, and another classmate of ours who died—both a result of car accidents. Robin Rogers and I reminisced about the old days, riding around in Stacy’s old purple Mercury with the tunes cranked, drinking and getting high. Of all my old classmates, Robin was one of the few who was close friends with Stacy.
When I got back from the reunion, I bought a computer and finally got on the Internet. A few months later, I started finding some of my old classmates on the Web, including Robin and Russ, and I now hear from them and some of my other classmates on a weekly basis.
Russ and I had stayed in touch up until a few years ago when I got divorced and moved a couple times. Russ is married now, raising a family, working in a Coca Cola warehouse, and living a sober, peaceful life following a long battle with alcoholism that nearly did him in.
Although REO is no longer one of Russ’s favorite bands, he went to a show in late January in Grand Rapids and took his own trip back in time. He sent me an E-mail saying he enjoyed the show more than he thought he would and sent me a set list of what they played.
When February 6th finally rolled around I felt like a kid again. All day long I felt the excitement building inside of me. Around three in the afternoon I took a trip over to the mall to buy a new copy of High Infidelity to listen to on the way to the show.
Unlike the old days, when I had to drive for hours to get to an REO show, I had only a fifteen minute drive from Lake Mary to the TD Waterhouse Center in downtown Orlando. The show was a triple bill: Survivor played first, then REO, then Styx. In the late 70’s Survivor was a perennial warm up band—not bad, but nothing exciting. I had no desire to see them again. I wanted to start the night with the best: REO.
We timed our arrival perfectly, getting there after Survivor finished and before REO started. We grabbed a couple big beers and headed for our seats When we entered the seating area of the arena I looked down at the stage and much to my delight saw a great big REO emblem covering the floor of the stage. Seeing that thing touched my heart and brought back a shit load of memories. A few minutes later the lights went down and the magic began.
It started with the jungle drums of “Don’t Let Him Go,” a classic show opener from the High Infidelity days. When Gary Richrath’s replacement, Dave Amato, walked on stage with a sunburst Les Paul (the same style guitar Gary used) I knew all was right in the universe. Alan Gratzer’s replacement (Brian Hitt) sounded just like Alan. After all these years, REO still sounded fucking great.
Even though “Don’t Let Him Go” isn’t a highly emotional song, I had tears of happiness running down my face from the pure joy of seeing my boyhood heroes again. The second song of the night was a real oldie: “Music Man” from REO Two—back in the early 70’s. The song talks about knowing that music is the songwriter’s calling and for him (and me) there’s no other life. Again, the tears of happiness flowed. I was in rock and roll heaven. I asked Amy if she was having fun at her first REO show, she grabbed my hand and said she loved it.
“Take It On The Run” came next and the place went nuts. I thought of my old girlfriend Jodi and the time she fucked my best friend Doug Stewart, the summer after graduation, right when that song was a hit. Of course I was the last to find out, even though all my other friends knew about it--my first experience with being cheated on. The crowd sang along, held their lighters in the air and I wondered what ever became of Jodi—the last I heard she married an old white trash loser who beat her and treated her like shit.
Next came my favorite REO song of all, “Keep Pushin.” I went nuts. I jumped up, screamed and felt grateful to be living the life I was living. Back when I was a kid that song more than any other taught to stick to my guns, to chase the dream I believed in and not let anyone tell me I couldn’t do it:
I
used to be lonely, ‘til I learned about living alone
I
found other things to keep my mind on
And
I’m gettin to know myself a little bit better
oh,
oh, oh I Keep Pushin On..I Keep Pushin on.
Going
through all the changes
I
made so many mistakes, oh yes I did
Trying
to leave behind the heartaches
Sometimes
I think I was a little bit crazy,
But
we all get a little bit crazy
oh,
oh, oh I Keep Pushin On—That’s what I do people
Keep
Pushin, Keep Pushin, Keep Pushin, Keep Pushin On
Ya
Know you’ve got to be so strong
Even
if you think you’re strength is
gone
Well,
Keep Pushin On...Everybody got to keep on pushin’
Well
it’s comin’ together
I
finally feel like a man, oh yes I do
I
never thought that I’d be where I am
everyday
I wake a little bit higher
oh,
oh, oh Keep Pushin On...
Keep
Pushin, Keep Pushin, Keep Pushin, Keep Pushin On
Ya
Know you’ve got to be so strong
Even
if you think you’re strength is
gone
Well,
Keep Pushin On...Everybody got to keep on pushin’
The third verse (Well it’s coming together...) perfectly sums up how I feel about my life these days. After many years of shit, I’m finally living a life that I love. Part of the credit goes to REO for showing me the way.
“I Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore” got the biggest crowd response of the night. Before they played it, Kevin said it took him ten years to write the song and helped him learn to face his fears and let his feelings shoe instead keeping it all bottled up inside. I’d never seen that song played live before, it sounded fantastic.
“Tough Guys” and a new song, “That Ain’t Love” came next. I saw “Tough Guys” played many times before, so I headed for the men’s room to get rid of some beer. On the way back, I stopped and bought two more.
When Kevin played the opening chord to “Time For Me To Fly,” I raised my glass toward heaven. With tears streaming down my face, I saluted my old friend Stacy. Although I’m not religious man, I thanked God for letting me still be around to enjoy magical nights like this.
“Back On The Road Again” and “Keep On Loving You” brought us to the regular set’s closing number: “Roll With The Changes.” The place was rocking, everyone was on their feet and I felt about as happy as humanly possible. Again I thought of Stacy, hearing yet another of his favorite songs.
The first encore was “Ridin The Storm Out.” The grand finale was “157 Riverside Avenue.” Watching Neal rip off those piano part, I couldn’t help but think back to all the times I watched Stacy practice those piano parts.
The show ended and REO walked off to great applause. I was so proud of them. After all these years, they still kicked ass. They weren’t a bunch of washed up has-beens cashing in on the glory days. It’s good to know that some things in life really don’t change all that much.
Between bands, Amy and I went outside so she could have a cigarette in the smoking area. I broke out the one-hitter, took a couple tokes and shared some with a couple that Amy was talking to. The best part of the night was done, but the trip back wasn’t finished yet.
Although REO was clearly my favorite band as a kid, Styx wasn’t far behind. Stacy and I listened to them almost as much as we listened to REO. Stacy had the chance to see Styx on their Pieces Of Eight tour; I never saw them live.
Even without keyboardist Dennis DeYoung, the band sounded great. The harmonies were beautiful and the new drummer, Todd Sucherman, was a monster. Guitarist Tommy Shaw leads this version of Styx and he’s got them back on track after years of floundering.
The highlight of the Styx show was “Come Sail Away,” one of the first songs Stacy and learned when we started our band, and a song that we played at Sheryl’s party. Again, with tears in my eyes, I raised my glass one last time in memory of my friend and those old days...
“I
look to the sea, reflections in the waves spark my memories,
Some
happy, some sad, I think of childhood friends and the dreams we had
We
lived happily forever, so the story goes, but somehow we missed out on the pot
of gold
But we’ll try, bless that we can, to carry on...”
When the show ended, and the wayback machine came to a stop, I felt an extreme sense of appreciation for the night’s magic and the years of struggle that got me to this point in my life. Seeing those two bands made me so grateful that I never gave up on my dream to be a musician. Although I never got famous, playing music has brought me a lifetime of joy and adventure that I wouldn’t trade for anything. On the way out, I dropped thirty bucks on a red, cut-off REO T-shirt. Once again I had an REO shirt in my collection, just like twenty years ago.
Instead of going home, I took Amy to Wally’s Liqours and then Will’s
Pub, which made for a fine conclusion to a wonderful night--the kind of
night that reminds you how sweet and special life can be.
The next day, I had off from work. I was tempted to drive to Jacksonville
to catch the last show of the tour—with REO closing the night. It would
have been a fantastic to keep the magic going for one more night, but
a call to the Jacksonville Stadium box office told me that I probably
couldn’t make the three hour drive in time to get to the box office in
time to get a ticket. I gave Amy a ride to work, then spent the night
at home listening to REO CD’s, drinking beer and reliving the previous
night’s glory.
A few days later
I played a fill-in gig with one of my old bands--Don’t Scare The Dog.
I wore my new red cut-off REO shirt. The band leade, Lonnie G, called
for Riding The Storm Out as our first song of the night. For a three minutes
I was back in rock and roll heaven again.