“Excellent! Why don’t you get him now. Pour a large coffee into him and let me know when he’s functional,” Nigel said. He then turned to me and asked, “Any chance the bar will have coffee yet?”
“I’ll check with Bernie,” I said and started toward the office. Kelly intercepted me and volunteered to handle it. Five minutes later I saw she and Delitah behind the bar measuring scoops into a filter. When she noticed me watching her with a smile on my face her expression soured and she flipped me the bird. Delitah looked interested, so I returned the gesture, letting her know she was number one in my heart.
I spent the next five minutes getting my guitar tuned to Nigel’s. As we were finishing, GI Jo-Jo walked in with his arm around Ian for support. If this is better than usual I didn’t give Doberman’s Stub much of a chance for survival. Jo-Jo put Ian on a barstool and Delitah handed him a cup of black coffee, which he held to Ian’s lips. From across the room we could hear Ian yell, “Rum! It doesn’t have any bloody rum!”
After he calmed down I saw Kelly shake hands with GI Jo-Jo. A couple of minutes later Jo-Jo helped Ian to the men’s room. When Ian emerged he looked decidedly more animated. Unassisted, he made his way to the bar, picked up his coffee cup and walked to the stage where he sat on his drummer’s stool. He then picked up his sticks, pounded twice on his drums and screamed, “Let’s rock & roll!”
I could see why Terry assumed GI Jo-Jo was scoring drugs for Ian. There’s nothing he could swallow or snort that would work that fast. My best guess is that he shot up crystal meth. I turned to Nigel, who was standing next to me on stage and said, “That Starbucks is amazing stuff.”
Nigel ignored me and called out the name of the first song. Ian banged his sticks together four times and we were off. Kelly did a fantastic job of keeping pace with the karaoke machine. I had two or three minor errors, but, in general, the session went well.
When we finished, Nigel walked over to me and said, “Brilliant! You’ve far exceeded our wildest expectations.”
Jack added, “We knew you could play, but singing is clearly your strong suit.”
“Your voice is different from Terry’s, but we weren’t looking for a tribute band imitation. I don’t think the public would accept that. Your interpretation of the vocals rang true for me,” Nigel said.
Ian jumped from his riser and said, “I thought you’d be the bloody shanks, but you can play with me any day.” Sweat was profusely rolling down his face.
I worked out a few logistics with Nigel then said goodbye to the band. Delitah exited with GI Jo-Jo, so I walked over to Kelly, who was getting the karaoke equipment reset for the performance. “Great job on the monitor. You have a natural feel for music,” I said.
“Screw you, asshole,” she said. “You’re always telling me what you think I want to hear.”
“Excuse me,” I said with an incredulous tone.
Kelly looked up from the equipment, then glanced around the area. “Oh, has Delitah gone?” she asked.
“What’s it to you, bimbo?” I asked.
“You’re the one who asked me to act angry with you. And, do you know what? It worked,” she said.
“How about if I take you to dinner and you tell me all about it?” I asked.
“You’re on,” she said
We found a nice little Chinese place about ten blocks from the club. We were the only Caucasians in the restaurant, which was fine with me after studying Dad’s mug-shot book earlier in the day.
Once we placed our orders I asked, “What were you able to learn from Delitah?”
Kelly replied, “What a piece of work. She thinks she’s channeling Terry, who, by the way, is also pissed off at you for trying to fill his shoes.”
“Do you think she was on anything?” I asked.
“I got the feeling she is always like that,” she said.
“Did you get her to talk about their plans?” I asked.
“She’s not sure if she’s going to stay with GI Jo-Jo. She said he’s dull and sometimes just plain mean. She enjoys being around the band because she likes their music, but she’s not sure if she’s going to like it as much now that Terry’s gone,” Kelly said. “I asked if Delitah was going on tour with the band, and she said it would depend on who they found to replace Terry and what kind of vibe he gave her. I got the impression she’d stay on if there was a chance she could hook up with his replacement, but won’t be with GI Jo-Jo much longer.”
“Did she give any indication if Jo-Jo is planning on taking off?” I asked.
“No. She didn’t seem to care either way. From our conversation it was hard to believe they’re a couple,” she said.
“Did she say anything else I might want to know?” I asked.
“She said you have a nice butt,” Kelly said and laughed.
When we returned to the Dali Lama, Michael Marinangeli was wheeling his amp through the stage door on a red dolly. We exchanged greetings and I could tell he was very excited about doing this gig. As the last of the working musicians, he had more to gain if the Union-Tribune’s reviewer mentioned him in his article. “How did the afternoon practice session go?” he asked.
“Not too bad for a first run-through,” I said.
“What did you think, Kelly?” he asked.
“I think Terry would approve,” she retorted and left it at that.
Michael said, “I didn’t mention it before, but I’ve gotten to be a big Doberman’s Stub fan since our band broke up. The last band I was in played at least three of their songs every gig.”
“What did you think about their cross-over to more mainstream stuff on the second CD?” I asked.
“At first I thought it was just OK, but after I saw how much the women liked it, I learned seven of the songs from that CD. When you played us the demo at Aunt Esther’s I got really excited. It sucks what happened to Terry. I know we’ve had our differences after the band broke up, but, if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know,” he said, then slapped me on the shoulder and walked away.
Kelly said, “I’m starting to really like him. At first I thought he had an attitude problem, but after the last couple of days in Alpine, and now this, I’m thinking there’s more to Michael than he likes to show.”
“He used to be one of my best friends. Tsunami Rush was his idea. We all went to different high schools at the same time. Michael recruited us from area bands to form a local super-group. The band was his baby,” I said.
“What happened? Why did you break up?” she asked.
“In spite of our efforts, I came to realize that none of us can write. We were a very popular cover band but, all we would ever be is a cover band,” I said. “After nine years of covering other people’s songs I felt it was time to move on. I was dissatisfied with my job as a mental health counselor, and I was bummed that we couldn’t develop original material. When I told the band I was leaving, Derek told us he was just about to do the same thing.”
From behind us we heard, “It’s the undercover rock & roller.” I turned to see Derek wearing a sleek, black, long-sleeve T-shirt with a metallic blue wave cresting across his chest. As he walked toward us he said, “How many of the old crowd do you think will show up tonight?”
“I have no idea,” I replied.
Kyle snuck up behind us and used Derek’s sticks to play a drum solo on his shoulders. “Ooowww!,” Derek cried, “I hate when you do that.”
“It’s for good luck. Every time I did that to you we had a good show,” Kyle said with a smile.
“Good luck for who? Every time you did it I got sore shoulders,” responded Derek.
“It’s starting to sound so familiar,” I added. It was almost 8:00 PM, time for the club to open. The first set would start at 8:30 PM and last one hour. After a twenty-minute break, Doberman’s Stub will play till 11:15 PM. Then, after another break, Tsunami Rush will play two more hours. It was time to go backstage and get dressed for the show.
As we were about to clear the
stage area, Jasmine dropped by to say Bernie wanted to see us at his table. I introduced Jasmine to Kelly and we all walked to Bernie’s table. Jasmine led us through a large cluster of cocktail tables to a two-foot riser that held a table for twenty. This was the best view of the bandstand in the house.
“What’s up Bernie?” I asked when we had all assembled in front of his table.
He replied, “I have four guests coming. This table seats twenty. If you’d like your guests to join me, I’ll be glad to play host.”
“Thanks Bernie. We’d love to join you,” I said.
“Why don’t you sit next to me while the boys get dressed. Have you met Calvin and Justin?” he asked Kelly.
“Not yet,” she said.
“Well you’re in for a treat. Those guys could tell you stories about Jason all night,” he said and winked at me.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I said with a smile.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Bernie said. “Has your rabbi ever let you down?”
I replied, “Never. Take good care of her, Bernie.
At 8:25 Kyle peaked out at the crowd and saw that most of the bar and almost half of the tables were full. This was an excellent sign considering the hour. Either that or we were starting to attract a geriatric audience.
At precisely 8:30 Bernie took the stage and said, “After a three year absence from the San Diego club scene, the Dali Lama Yo Mama is thrilled to bring you the reunion of,” then in a loud, enthusiastic voice, “Tsunami Rush!”
We jogged onstage, and launched into a power metal set that immediately brought about twenty people to the dance floor. Calvin and Justin arrived shortly after we started and I saw Jasmine lead them to Bernie’s table. By 9:00 all of the tables were occupied and the dance floor was rocking.
About fifteen minutes before the end of our first set I noticed Nigel standing in the wings checking us out. He watched for the remainder of the set and appeared to be getting into our music. When we finished I announced, “Thanks for coming out tonight. I see a lot of familiar faces and we’re having a great time playing for you again.” This got a rousing applause. “We’re going to take a break. Be sure to stick around for the next set. We have some very special friends joining us that are going to blow you away.”
As we exited Nigel said to me, “They love you guys. That was quite a performance for a group that hasn’t played in three years.”
Michael, Kyle and Derek headed for Bernie’s table after being introduced to Nigel. “Ask Kelly to knock on the dressing room door in fifteen minutes,” I said to Michael, then I slapped his hand.
“Was it good for you?” he asked.
“Better than foreplay,” I replied and he laughed.
In the dressing room I tuned my guitar to Nigel’s while Jack did some kind of Zen mantra. Ian looked like GI Jo-Jo had already gotten him tweaked. Both of his feet were tapping a mile a minute and he was licking his lips continually. “How are you doing with the new songs?” Nigel asked.
“Between the afternoon session and Bernie’s karaoke monitor, I should be fine,” I said. “It looks like we’ve got a decent size crowd.”
“Perfect,” Nigel replied. “Thanks again for setting it up. I’d like you to look at me in between songs. If I spread my hand in front of my strings like this,” he said and performed the gesture, “I want you to give me a few seconds. I’ll have a note pad on my amp and I’ll jot a few notes if I see something we may want to change.”
“Just give me a little head bob when you’re ready to go,” I said.
Ian chimed in, “I could go for a little head bob after the show.” This seemed to rouse Jack from the Land of Om. Before he could speak there was a knock at the door. It was Kelly letting me know she was heading to the computer, and the monitor would have the first song ready to go.
Then Bernie knocked on the door and asked if the band was ready to be introduced. Three minutes later we were standing in the wings as Bernie walked to center stage and said, “May I have your attention.” He waited about a minute for the crowd to settle down, then he said, “At the Dali Lama we get a chance to see a lot of bands on their way up, and sometimes we see a few on their way down. But it’s a very rare pleasure when we get to see a band as it’s hitting its peak of success. But, tonight we have a very special treat. You are going to be the first live audience to see and hear the new CD of such a band. Tsunami’s Rush’s Jason Duffy is going to be helping them out since they recently lost a band member. Please help me welcome Doberman’s Stub!”
The crowd went crazy. When I walked out onto the stage I had a flashback of old footage of the Beatles being drowned out by screaming fans. But, instead of launching into a song that would ride the tide of their intensity, Nigel gave me the spread fingers and we all waited until they settled down. Then Nigel stepped up to his microphone and said, “Thank you for that warm reception. As Bernie said, we tragically lost our lead singer and guitarist, Terry Tucker, just a few weeks ago. We’re trying to decide if we should press on without him and look for a replacement, or just call it the end of an era.”
“No!” shouted the crowd. “Doberman rocks!”
“When Terry died we were just finishing a CD. It was our habit to play the new CD for a live club audience before releasing it, so that’s why we’re here tonight. We’d like to dedicate this performance to Terry Tucker,” he said and gave the head bob. We opened with a cut that was expected to be one of the lead tracks and make an appearance on Billboard’s charts.
The crowd cheered wildly as we finished our first song. Shortly after they quieted down for the second song, I heard a commotion toward the main entrance. I glanced over and saw Vlad Torhan lifting a cell phone-clutching fan off of his feet. I’m sure Vlad thought he was protecting Cerise from some kind of copyright infringement. The fan was probably just letting a friend hear that Doberman’s Stub was performing at the local club.
Between glances at the karaoke monitor I saw Bernie’s bouncer come up behind Torhan and get him in a bear hug. Vlad threw an elbow and broke free long enough to knock the bouncer unconscious with one mighty uppercut to the chin. The fan managed to crawl away. Since the band was still playing there was no shortage of cell phones in the air. He grabbed a tall, thin, surfer dude and crushed his cell phone while it was still in the dude’s hand. We finished our song and waited for the cops to arrive, expecting a long delay.
Instead, I saw Jasmine, carrying a tray full of drinks, walk right up to Torhan. As she was squeezing past him she pulled a Taser out from under her serving tray and zapped him on the arm. Vlad the Impaler turned into a spazz briefly before collapsing to the floor. Jasmine held her Taser in the air and received a tremendous ovation.
I moved back to the microphone and said, “This next one’s for our favorite server, Jasmine.” This got another ovation. I then added, “Don’t forget to tip her generously – or else.” The abundance of cell phone wielding fans resulted in a steady stream of people pouring through the door. I looked at Bernie and saw a nervous smile on his face as Justin left the table and stationed his 250 pounds of rippling muscles at the front door.
We were into our fifth song when the cops arrived and led Torhan out in handcuffs. At that point the Dali Lama was probably just above the Fire Marshall limit, but it looked like the police were satisfied that Justin had things under control. I’m sure he used his wit and charm to ease any of their concerns.
On three occasions Nigel gave me the spread fingers and made notes. Once it took him about two minutes, which seems like an eternity when almost everyone in the crowd was giving their undivided attention. At the end of the set Nigel asked the audience, “What do you think? Should Doberman’s Stub try to carry on without Terry Tucker?”
The audience response would have broken a decibel meter. Nigel then added, “I’d like to give a special thanks to Tsunami Rush’s Jason Duffy for filling in on vocals and rhythm guitar. If you enjoyed Jason, stick around. Tsunami Rush will be back after a
little break. Goodnight San Diego.”
The crowd went crazy and did not let up. The chant of “More, more, more!!!” grew louder and louder. In the dressing room Jack said, “We better give them one more or they might come in here after us.”
Nigel suggested a fan favorite from the second CD, I knew the words but didn’t know the guitar part. “Why don’t I show you how to play it.”
I replied, “I have a better idea. Our lead guitarist knows that whole CD. Let’s call him to the stage and let him do it.”
“Brilliant!” exclaimed Nigel, “let’s go.”
When we walked back onstage the crowd erupted. After about 30 seconds I held up my hand and they quieted down. “Will Michael Marinangeli come to the stage?” I looked at Michael, who was still seated at Bernie’s table. He put his hand on his chest and gave me a Who me? look. I nodded and he made his way to the stage. I pointed for him to talk to Nigel while I explained to the crowd that we only knew one more song and needed the help of another Tsunami Rush band member to do that. Hopefully this prepped them for the fact that it would be the only encore.
GI Jo-Jo moved Michael’s amp back into place and two minutes later we were delighting the crowd with the only known Doberman tune of the evening. When we finished Nigel confirmed what I had told the crowd earlier and they seemed to accept that it was the end of the Doberman set.
I made my way to Bernie’s table, which was no easy task at a reunion show, and sat next to Kelly. Calvin left his seat next to Bernie and sat down next to me. “You rocked, brother,” he said. “Nigel might be asking for a bio on you after that performance.”
“Stop yanking my chain. What do you think of the new material?” I asked.
“I think it’s going to be even bigger than the second CD. They sounded surprisingly tight, especially since they were playing with you for the first time,” Calvin said.
“What about Ian?” I asked. “Between reading the monitor and watching the Russian get stunned, I didn’t get much of a chance to focus in on his performance.”
Rock & Roll Homicide Page 16