And the fuck of it is…
He lets me.
[Off tape]
In the end, Trelane published his book, including a goodly number of images of Lyla, doing this without McCade’s permission.
Yeah, he did.
And Trelane’s book captured the interest of more than Roadmasters and Trelane’s fans. It is widely heralded as nuanced photojournalism of the disintegration of a rock band, starting with the band at its peak, ending with it all unraveling, and how this can come about without big internal or band-based public drama.
Yeah.
It is.
Jesse:
I’m sure it won’t surprise you that after years of popping whatever pill you thought would do the job, having a snort whenever you wanted to feed the need and imbibing liquor copiously is not something you can just decide to stop doing without repercussions.
The next coupla weeks on that tour were shaky, man.
Serious.
And the thing is, it gets worse before it gets better. Every night you go to bed and think, “Tomorrow won’t be this shitty,” and then you wake up and that day is shittier, and it really fucks with your head.
Because all you can think is, “I take a pill…” or “I do a line this all goes away.”
The only thing that stops you from doing that is the fact that you know, eventually you’re gonna have to try again and there’s one thing you’re certain about.
You do not wanna start from the beginning.
Even after, you know?
Coupla weeks go by and that’s only when you start to feelin’ better.
You don’t wake up one day and you’re all “I’m good. I’ll just go run a marathon.”
[Shakes head]
Hell no.
Folks give the stank eye to people who fall off the wagon, and I wanna say, “You know what, motherfucker. Give up running so much your knees are shit. Or give up that coupla glasses of wine you have every night. Or give up those Doritos. Or shoppin’. Or controlling every goddamn morsel of food that goes into your mouth because you can’t control the world around you.”
We all got a way to cope that we fall into.
And even if it isn’t chemically induced, it’s hard as fuck to kick, no matter how bad it is for you.
I’ll tell you one of many things I learned when I kicked the pills and blow.
I learned to cut some serious slack.
So, we’re cold turkey off the shit and we did not pick the best time, say, around a break.
We got a full day to recoup between gigs, but a lot of the time, we gotta pitch up to a radio program to rap for an hour or talk to the local papers.
You see, what I did not know until later, not bein’ a soldier, that Tom did know, was that any good general has an exit strategy.
He prepares just as much for defeat as he does victory.
But it’s more.
And Tom knew that too.
See, if you’re lucky enough to come out a winner, you make it so you do that with as many men left standing as you can.
Look at it like this.
What goes up, must come down.
It is rare that, if a band stays together, if they don’t crash and burn, there won’t be ebbs and flows.
The likes of the Rolling Stones, which make it big and stay there, because they’re that fuckin’ good, then remain there, because they became who they are, is an anomaly.
Case in point, name another band outside the Stones that has that like they have that.
[Waits and when he gets no response, nods]
There are none.
Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and Starr went on from the Beatles to be Lennon, McCartney, with and without the Wings, Harrison and Starr because they were the Beatles.
Even acts like Petty, Fleetwood Mac, the E Street Band, the Who waned. As good as they are, and they’re the greats, they can continue to make music, they can sell out arenas, but they’re coasting.
The goal is to find your time where you can coast.
And when you find that time, be able to coast.
A time where you can still make music for you and give it to your fans.
But the pressure is not on and you don’t gotta let it all get sucked out of you to get more.
Tom had a mind to all of that, and except for Preacher, who is not out with his shit but we all know he’s still using, and Shawn, who never descended into it far enough for it to be a problem, me and Dave and Tim are jittery.
[Laughs shortly]
Now, with Penny the way she was, I couldn’t say I got too deep into it either. I could get a buzz on, but it wasn’t about descending completely down that rabbit hole.
And still, I would not live that next two weeks again for anything.
Especially since Tom knows, along the way, you only make enemies with people you’re down with makin’ enemies.
The rest, you pitch up and deal.
What I’m saying is, Tommy didn’t cancel shit.
If it was scheduled, we did it.
Shows. Interviews. Photo ops. Radio slots. TV appearances.
And that was really not fun.
But he knows, these people gotta remember the Roadmasters as the dudes who you could rely on. As the dudes who saw to their business and didn’t disappoint.
Because you need everyone you can get to make it big.
You need everyone you can get to stay there.
And you need everyone to remember you in a good way when it’s time to coast.
But somehow with all this happening, and I know how, the shows don’t suffer.
And this is because the only fix we can get is our own adrenaline.
But also, Preacher’s got something to say to Lyla.
And he needs it bad that she hears it.
During our live shows, we do covers, always at least one cover.
And suddenly we’re doin’ shit like “Feel Like Makin’ Love,” “Wild Horses,” and “Me and Bobby McGee.”
[Smiles reminiscently]
I don’t think she heard.
But we kicked the shit outta those songs.
And just to say, seein’ as we’re makin’ the record straight here with what we’re doin’, not like this isn’t known, but I don’t hear it either.
None of us did.
And what Preacher was doin’, he was screaming it in our faces.
Doing this by singing.
One night, we do “Lovesong” by The Cure.
Now, The Cure, this band…
This band is a damned fine band.
No one like them.
No one can be like them, that’s the genius of Robert Smith and The Cure.
I contend that to this day.
Robert Smith wrote songs like you’d never heard before, and you’ve never heard since.
Poppy-sounding, happy songs that make you bounce on your feet with lyrics that will shred your heart.
And the bass in those songs…
[Smiles ruefully]
Dave, Tim, they like The Cure.
Shawn, he gets The Cure, though he’s not what you’d call a fan.
That bass, obviously, I love them.
Preach…
Now if there’s a band Preach is a disciple of, it’s The Cure.
And I think it’s not hard for anyone to get why.
So, just sayin’, we know how to play Cure songs.
But doin’ one on the road?
[Shakes head]
Then Preach puts “Lovesong” on the setlist.
You know, after it all went down, for the rest of my life, I always tried to be sure I never got so deep up my own ass, I didn’t see. I didn’t hear. I didn’t listen.
Especially to the people I love.
We sang that song, and I was sure our audience, our fans were going to think nothin’ but “What the fuck?”
They didn’t.
A human swell.
You look out from the stage, that was what it was. Rolling
this way and that, hanging on the sound of Preacher’s voice, drifting to the wave of music, the melancholy beauty of that song.
Preach sang those words and everyone knows they’re for Lyla, even though no one but Preacher knows how bad Lyla needs to hear them.
“Maybe I’m Amazed” is an insanely beautiful song.
When we played “Lovesong…”
For our fans, for us, for the lore of the Roadmasters, that became…
[Stops speaking and doesn’t resume for some time]
After it all went down that became…
It.
After that shit hit with Dave and Leeanne, a rift has definitely formed in the band.
Preacher.
And the rest of us.
And this is the only time I thought this, but we need him to be about us, not Lyla.
We’re on tour and nothing’s ever gonna shake them so they need to put on hold whatever is goin’ on and he needs to see to his brothers.
At least, that was what I thought at the time.
And I was right.
I was also wrong.
Dave not wakin’ up, Penny the way she was being something I always had on my mind, goin’ through what I was goin’ through ditchin’ the shit, knowin’ Dave and Tim got it worse, Shawn is no nursemaid, but he’s suddenly not all about boning when he’s not hanging with the band.
He’s about keeping us hydrated and finding shit for us to do to keep our minds off it.
And shit is like that for the band and Preacher’s not involved in that?
Preacher doesn’t have our backs?
Preacher is not losing his own crutches?
We all start to get pissed.
He’s on for a show. He’s on in a radio booth.
But he and Lyla miss band breakfasts, hit the plane fuzzy and distracted and pass out almost immediately. They disappear from the dressing room and come back sniffing and swiping their noses.
And we’re not partying, but they are.
You’re Preacher and Lyla, you can find a party anywhere. Everyone wants to party with you.
Any bar you pick, you pitch up, it’s a rave.
She’s out there in her little satin slip dresses, her chucks and jeans overalls, her cutoffs and camis with a tangle of necklaces down her front, and he’s Preacher, they get noticed.
They get their pictures taken and those pictures get in magazines.
They got their foreheads together over a table, lookin’ gorgeous, lookin’ into each other, lookin’ in love, but on that table, there are three empty martini glasses and a half empty bourbon bottle next to an empty lowball glass.
Or he’s throwing some back and she’s got her face tucked to his neck and you can see her tongue is out, tasting him.
[Links fingers with forefingers steepled, bends neck and rests forefingers against his forehead before he looks up and drops his hands]
Not good.
I think we’re in Phoenix when Tim goes off the setlist.
Da-da-da-da, da da da da da, da-da-da-da, da da da da [hums beginning riff of “Life in the Fast Lane”].
The crowd loses their fuckin’ minds.
And I get it, that’s a kickass fuckin’ song.
But I can feel Preacher’s laser beam gaze searing through me as he’s lookin’ at Tim, not because he goes off set, which also is not okay, but because Tim’s message is far from lost on Preacher.
Tim stops playing when it comes clear Preach isn’t gonna jump in for the next bar, and Jesus…
Tim doesn’t back down.
He goes again.
The audience thinks this is a schtick. They’re now in a goddamn frenzy, they want us to do that song so bad they’ll tear the house down for it, and what’s hitting us is a brick wall of sound.
Preach has no choice.
He jumps in.
Tim sings and he’s practically channeling Henley.
We had a good sound system, but man, we were nearly drowned out with the crowd singing with us to that song.
I don’t know how many songs we had left after that.
I just know, there were a lot of them.
And still, when we got offstage, Preach doesn’t even hand his guitar off to a roadie.
He’s got his fingers wrapped around the neck and he backs Tim into the wall of the hall and gets in his face.
“Not cool, brother,” he says.
And Christ.
Tim still doesn’t back down.
He replies, “I know.”
We all knew something was off with Preacher.
He didn’t tell us what it was.
And that was on him.
But we knew there was something and we didn’t push, didn’t even ask.
[Lengthy pause]
[Quietly] And that was totally on us.
Interviewer’s Impressions, Recorded After Event:
Upon arrival at the cabin, the red Cherokee is again in the lane, the silver truck is not, but a blue Mini with white racing stripes over the hood and roof is.
Lyla is not waiting in the opened back door.
After knocking, I hear what I had not heard the day before.
The sounds of dogs barking, a number of them, from deep woofs to high-pitched yaps.
Lyla is opening the door at the same time speaking, telling someone to take the dogs out.
A young woman’s voice calls back, stating, “I’m leaving Bobby McGee!”
“All right!” Lyla says, dipping her chin and opening the door.
Over the dogs still barking, she apologizes for ending the session so abruptly the day before, invites me in, and as previously, she offers refreshments.
The gray cat is already in residence on the daybed, today joined by a tiger cat with black markings on gray.
As the day before, the gray cat eschews company; the tiger cat is friendly and welcoming.
A door slams somewhere in the cabin, the barking stops, and a young woman can be seen out the windows who looks a great deal like the young man the day before.
She’s dressed in an insulated vest, a long-sleeved shirt, jeans and hiking boots.
She walks along the gently sloping packed earth covered in dead pine needles that makes up the front area of the cabin with what looks like a Burmese mountain dog and what is clearly a mutt, both unleashed.
“My daughter,” Lyla explains, taking up a mug of something that’s steaming and entering the daybed as she had the day before, to sit cross-legged on it. “Should we begin?”
Lyla:
What Tim did, with “Life in the Fast Lane,” was not good.
I understood his intention, even then, and even then, I agreed with him.
But it wasn’t the right way to go about doing it.
Preacher felt betrayed.
That was their safe space. Onstage. That was where they were always in harmony, quite literally.
Tim ripping that away from Preacher, not only at that time, which was far from optimal, but at any time, it’s just…
[Pause]
The way Preacher saw it.
It was just simply unforgiveable.
In Tim’s defense, he not only didn’t know what was going on with Preacher, he didn’t know his story.
Even with that said, Tim had known Preacher by that time for nearly a decade.
He had spent a lot of time with him.
He had made music with him.
So, he might not know the story, but he knew there was one.
And it wasn’t a good one.
More than that, Preacher was about being up front about everything.
If you had something to say, say it.
Right to his face.
I know this sounds contradictory seeing as it was clear to everyone that Preacher was not being up front about something. He was keeping something buried.
But that was the first time he’d ever been that way.
And that was…
[Pause, then a sad sigh]
What it was.
<
br /> My mother and father fought viciously before Mom took us away.
Or I should say, my father got viciously angry.
Because of that, bearing witness to it at a very early age, I avoided conflict.
And I never raised my voice.
I can still hear my father shouting at my mother. The words were ugly and damaging, but as a child, it was the timbre of his voice that truly frightened me.
It is highly likely this was conditioned in me due to the noises I’d hear after. Noises of him hurting her physically.
But regardless, because of that, no matter how angry I was, I didn’t lash out with a raised voice. There was rarely any drama to my anger.
Which might have been a problem.
My conflict avoidance sometimes took the form of me making certain I was clear in communications and tackling things head on as they were happening.
[Smiles self-deprecatingly]
This was when I was being mature.
Sometimes this took the form of me burying it with the intent simply to keep it buried. Taking the tack, it happened, it’s done, move on, and never go back there again.
I understood that there might be consequences to the latter strategy, and that was on me, and why I preferred to use the former one.
And Preacher by then was accustomed to that.
He was accustomed to that from me.
He was also used to it from the guys.
They’d been together a long time. They’d learned to communicate with each other.
He had no earthly clue how to handle someone delivering a message like Tim did with that song.
And most importantly at the time, Tim crossed two lines that you did not ever cross with Preacher.
He did what he did publicly.
And he did it making a commentary about me.
I did not look up from my book when Preacher came back into the suite after talking to Tommy in the hall.
In the hall.
What the fuck was up with that?
I had learned not to ask.
Fast Lane Page 21