t o i l i n g  m i d g e t s

THE BLUEST SKIES YOU'VE EVER SEEN ARE IN SEATTLE (continued)

BY PAUL HOOD

The new year began with midget plans of world conquest and domination, and our second show (the first was played as a trio the day my EX and I went to Seattle for the Christmas holiday at the Roosevelt, now the Brazilian club on Market St., was at the huge and historic Temple Beautiful, which was nextdoor to the "other historic" club at Geary and Fillmore St. We played Instrumentally, since Craig and Tim preferred silence to someone who either sang as a vehicle for his ego trip or girl trip, and they told me plenty of horrible stories of failed lead singers with Negative Trend and claimed to know all the local "talent" that might try out.

After a month rehearsing and writing that way, I found that I didn't miss a vocalist and our mix of noise and melody, crazy off - kilter drums and {teen-age} bass playing seemed to work and I began noticing just how tight the intuitive exchange between Tim and Craig was; how powerful and unique it was {not to mention - it rocked!} We didn't waste much time in rehearsal (once Tim Actually got there) and my first as a guitarist in a band that didn't play anything but original material. We would play each song once or twice, and only if there was an obvious problem with the song would we play it more than twice in a row and perhaps we played a song three times {at the behest of Mr. Poison}, though I only recall this happening once! This lack of practice I'm sure was one of the contributing factors in the negative growth from young John - something I didn't even notice until much later - in addition, didn't feel like I even could play guitar at the same level Craig and Tim did but to my relief, they never pressured me to learn faster or play a certain way or specific part or parts.

With the Meyce, I needed to teach myself the bass but our rehearsal schedule was five days a week and I could see myself making specific leaps in ability. We rehearsed religiously from 5pm to 10pm, (unless Seattle's "finest" made an appearance on behalf of our neighbors) and Jim Basnight (singer) felt he should dictate to Lee Lumsden and I what all the parts should be if it seemed to him that we weren't learning fast enough, and fought with Lee and I every night over the smallest part, which eventually led to Meycedeath.

On the nights Tim didn't show up to practice, I got worried that he wasn't happy as a Midget but Craig told me that Tim wouldn't play in any other band and he was the kind of guy that would be late to his own funeral - anyway, the distance he had to drive to and from the city was the real problem. That seemed logical, since he didn't hang out with us without his girlfriend Lisa acting as 'time organizer and driver' not to mention 'den mother'. I went along with the 'long distances to drive' excuse but I had to write him a long letter to explain my feelings on that and other subjects before I was to leave San Francisco at the request of Peter Urban to meet up with Javier Escovedo and the other Zeros, who were going to the east coast for two weeks of shows that Peter had set up with N.Y. connection Jane Friedman.

I left the letter with Craig and when I got back, I found out that he and John had opened, read, and found the contents very amusing. It was then that I acquired my first of several nicknames, "Mr. Poison", for the ability to say just the poisonous thing at the right time. I wasn't sure if I was going to NY at the right time but Peter, the Zeros "manager" (and sort of our "manager"), had asked me to look after the band, especially their regular roadie, Dream, whom Peter wasn't sure would live long enough to get everyone through the tour and back to the city in one piece. I said...HELL YES!

I'd flown ahead of the others in order to meet up with Jerri and hang out with her a few days without band distractions; also another friend from the Meyce days {our "manager", Fillipo Scrouge} was living in or near the village. He wanted to take Jerri and I to a private cable T.V. show, broadcasting from some hipster's Manhattan loft (called TV House Party) and as I recall, Walter Steading - a crazy electric violinist was one of the guests and he performed a riveting song or two.

Dream was a scary driver, without a doubt my first ride in the van with the boys on the streets of New York City was a theme park thrill ride in disguise. I was sitting in the death seat and saw close up the terror his legend inspired - within ten minutes, he'd clipped another vehicle, shearing off the side view mirror and exchanged paint samples as he cruised on, ignoring the chorus of back seat drivers.

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