"Bad Moon Rising"
November 6th, 2008: Ray's Grill - Fulshear, Texas

       For the last six months the trio has provided dinner music nearly every Thursday evening  for a small restaurant in Fulshear (their first visit being June 5th). The town of Fulshear is a quaint little area with a population of 718 residents (not including cows). It's primarily a farming and ranch community west of the hustle and bustle of Katy. It's a relaxed town composed of a noticeably unassuming mix of classes. And in the middle of town there is Ray's Gourmet Country.

     Juxtaposing the country cowboy ranch feel of the town, Ray's is an elegant, upscale restaurant that has managed to find a balance of comfort and class without smothering visitors in the pretentiousness sorely acquainted with some fine dining. It's as if a slice of 2nd Avenue was transplanted in Mayberry U.S.A. And with seeming little to do in Fulshear (outside of things with cattle) it's no wonder that Ray's has quickly become a hot spot in such a short time.

     It has also become something of a second home for the trio.    The venue allows them to try out new music in a kind of dress-rehearsal mode, while staying musically fit between more high-profile gigs. And the restaurant staff has taken the trio in as being 'part of the family'. Little things like bringing Matthew unsolicited glasses of iced tea throughout the evening, have made them feel welcome. With every visit of the guys, Chef Soren   knows that George will most likely order the duck quesadilla or the crab cakes with a diet coke during the band break. And each week the crew recognizes Lee's van from the parking lot, even before he and George begin to unload from it. There was even talk of naming a sandwich after the trio (truly an honor).

     The guys have made many friends among Ray's regular patrons. Al and Dorothy are faithful to reserve the table directly in front of the band each week     routinely requesting Bobby Darrin, Louis Armstrong, and Ray Charles tunes. Their granddaughter, Alexcia has developed a crush on the band's percussionist.    Every week she flirts with Lee, and dances uninhibitedly to the trio's upbeat tunes. The guys have played for Fulshear's mayor, Jamie Roberts, and the town controller, Laverne, who promises that she'll sing a tune with the trio every visit, but always decides to "wait until next week".

     The 7:00 dinner period always starts off slow and mellow, then builds momentum throughout the night. By 11:00 PM things are predictably loose and a little rowdy. The band mimics this routine each week by starting with more 'sedate' dinner music: a kind of audio wallpaper in the background, if you will. Then, as the evening intensifies, the guys basically perform a three and a half hour crescendo erupting in boisterous 'in-your-face' music with more of a blues flavor. George noticed these social patterns early on, and composed an instrumental jazz piece called RAY'S AFTER DARK to record these experiences. The tune starts slow and minimal, then transforms into something of a 'piano-banger' before disappearing into the night.        Listen Here:

     Every week the same routine is played out. Even the outside surroundings run like clockwork: Each Thursday between 7:00 - 9:00, the tranquility of the Fulshear night is briefly assaulted by the high pitch of wailing sirens from the town's fire engine and emergency response vehicles. Every week they scream past the main drive in front of Ray's. But even the shock of this happening every week has become somewhat commonplace. Matthew and George have grown to expect this disruption in some weird, morbid way, because there is a comfort in the predictable - no matter how bizarre. For no matter what happens during the day each Thursday, the evening at Ray's Gourmet Country always goes pretty much the same. As familiar and comfortable as a time-worn house shoe. As predictable as the sunrise and sunset each day. But not this visit...  No, tonight will be different... [insert ominous music here]

     As they do every week, Lee and George meet at the 'bunker' around 4:00 PM to load the band's gear. This part of the day always goes quickly, as Lee and George have developed a system of stacking the each piece of equipment in its designated spot in the van. Today is even faster since they've recently consolidated everything in an oversized gig case that Lee found at some garage sale. They thrust this new case in the back of the van, slam the hatch door, and head west.

     Lee decides to fuel the van up before they get on the highway, and rolls into the station on the corner. The two speak of mother-in-laws, and the wedding the trio played last Saturday as Lee pumps the gas. Lee pays the attendant and the two are ready to go. Except that when Lee tries to turn the ignition the key won't budge - It's as immobile as a statue. He pumps the breaks, tries to twist the steering column, but that won't move either. He takes the key out and slides it back in the key hole a dozen or so times. With each attempt he becomes more and more frustrated. George offers to try a turn (pun intended), but with the same result. Considering himself a man of science, George feels he must provide some reason for why this isn't working. His theory is that the parking break has activated because they're parked on a declining slope, and somehow this has frozen the steering wheel and ignition.

     Not convinced of all of this, Lee trades places with George again. After much grunting, an exasperated Lee emerges from the van. George is now on the phone with his wife, who has an uncanny way with all things mechanical. Her advice inspires George to arm-wrestle the van again - but the van prevails. 10 minutes have elapsed. "Uuuuugggghhhhh!!! Why isn't this working???" George rocks the van back and forth like a hobby horse. "I'm afraid if we keep on, we're going to bend your key." Then as if some ignition-locking demon had been exorcized (through no effort of Lee or George) and fled the area, the van's system turns over! "Yeah!" exclaims George. "I feel like a Pendragon with Excalibur!" Lee tries to be supportive, but fails: "A pen-what?" A zealous George  explains "You know, 'Uther Pendragon - King Arthur...the Sword in the Stone? You know...Arthur" As Lee reassumes command of the driver seat, as he questions, "But didn't he pull the sword OUT of the stone, not put it IN? And he sure didn't try to drive it around the Welsh countryside." George playfully pushes back "Yeah, well...maybe we should leave the van running while we play tonight to make sure we can drive home." Lee offers a crumpled version of his face as acknowledgment of George's zinger.

     As Lee strategically positions the van in the tide of early rush-hour traffic, he unexpectedly guns the accelerator to jump ahead on the feeder. The van lunges forward forcing George's open bottle of Diet Coke to leap from the drink holder splashing on the van floor. Soda begins to spew from the floor to nearly the top of the roof accompanied by a deafening hissing sound. The bottle (that was full) is doing somersaults in the floorboard faster than George can catch it. Lee begins swerving the van (more than usual)  as if to somehow rebottle the caramel cola. "What are you doing???" yells George as the soda geyser shows no sign of letting up. He's getting drenched, although Lee seems unphased. Lee swerves the opposite direction this time. George has a flash thought of what the police accident report will read like, and begins to laugh. The bottle continues to erupt in a constant stream that would make the fountains at the Bellagio envious. After what seems like a ridiculously long time, George has finally managed to capture the wayward bottle. Although there is only an inch and a half of soda remaining inside, he points the opening of the container away from his face. "How could that make so much Coke spew out?" Lee finally pulls the van over. "I don't know, but I wish I had that on tape. I could've won $10,000 with that one. Here take these" Lee produces a nearly full roll of paper towels from behind his seat, as if he's encountered this type of thing before. George takes the roll, but looks at him suspiciously as if somehow he did this. Lee is completely dry, while George's loading clothes match the still dripping interior of the van.

     On the other side of town, Matthew is facing some challenges of his own. As he sets up his gear he notices his mic stand is completely mangled. He wonders what could have bent the boom fastener into that position. He inspects his bass amp for signs of scratches, but it's unmarred. After a few minutes, he's able to bend the stand into to a shape that will at least be useable for the evening, but it looks more like a jousting lance that has seen better days. Evelyn brings over a glass over freshly brewed ice tea, and Matthew welcomes the distraction. He will linger about for an hour or so, conversing with the wine tasting guy, and members of Ray's staff until Lee and George arrive.

     As Lee and George buzz by the Katy Mills outlet mall, Lee begins to notice the van pulling to one side. He suspects that one of the tires maybe low on air. He pulls into another station to fill it. George suggests leaving the van running, but Lee clicks it off anyway. "What'd you say?" George carefully delivers a handful of cola-drenched paper towels to a nearby trash can. "Never mind." is the only reply. The tire is quickly pumped with air, and the van starts back up without incident.

     Some 20 minutes later, they meet up with Matthew who is finishing up a Phillip K. Dick novel in the lounge area of the restaurant. As the equipment is unloaded and slid into place, a horrifying discovery is made. Matthew notices the mixer board is missing. "Where's the sound board?" "Huh?" "The mixer - it's not here." Lee's head drops realizing Matthew's words are true. George returns from the men's room weaning a fresh, dry, and non-cola soaked set of clothes. By the look on Lee's face he knows something's not right. "Uh...what's up guys?" "No mixer." "What does that mean? Where's that big new case?" inquires George. "Well, it's over there but the mixer's not in it." At this point Lee offers that the mixer was too large to put in the case. Unlike the previous set-up that was all self contained, the new system must have the mixer separate. George tries to read Matthew and Lee's faces in hopes of seeing a grin. But there is no smile or laughter -This is for real. He takes a breath. "So what are our options?" Lee sheepishly offers that maybe he can rig something, but there's not a Radio Shack for many miles. George offers an alternative to let Lee off the hook "Okay let's just plan on playing instrumental only music tonight. Kind of a GP3 Unplugged Session." Matthew is noticeably disappointed by this suggestion. George shrugs and heads to the patio area to phone his kids before the evening gets underway.

     Not willing to accept defeat, Lee goes into 'MacGyver-Mode'. He's splicing cords and rewiring speaker components, grumbling at frayed cables, as Matthew hands him pliers, screwdrivers, etc. This mad scientist routine goes on for a few minutes. George returns to Lee laying on the floor squirming to reach the back of a connector.  "What's he doing?" "Shhhhh... He's fixing it." replies Matthew. "Are you sure he's not convulsing? I mean...just listen to all of the grunting and panting. It like he's having some kinda seizure." Lee shuffles back to his feet holding scraps of what used to be sound cables "That oughta do it!" A wave of curiosity and optimism floods over George. "You fixed it?" Lee smiles proudly "Well sort of.  I rigged it so we at least have one line going into the amp that can be used for a microphone." "Really? That's fantastic. How did you...(looking down at the scraps of cords) Never mind - I don't want to know. Anyway -Thanks."

     After a brief sound check to get acclimated to this alternative set up tonight, the guys are ready to begin.    They feel a wave of relief as they play the opening chords of ROAMING (a jazz original). The trio is in a safe harbor. All of the stress leading up to this performance melts away. The music envelopes them like a warm blanket. Everything is calm now. And for the most part things are pretty normal the only distraction is that since there is only one mic for singing, George and Matthew are forced to pass it back and forth. They quickly realize there won't be any duets or harmony parts tonight.

     The regular crowd shuffles in as well as some new faces.  Most noticeably is an older gentleman with a warm smile that responds enthusiastically to every song (especially the Duke Ellington tunes). During the break, Lee and George visit with the man. They learn his name is A.J. Moto, and many decades ago he played the sax in a popular swing band. George gets so excited about this that he persuades 80 year old A.J. to return home (7 miles away) to retrieve his saxophone so he may play with them during the second set. Meanwhile, Matthew is mingling in the crowd. He and George decided earlier that as a prank to the audience, they would poll first time customers about Lee. Matthew goes from table to table asking "Excuse me, I'm with the band. We're auditioning that drummer that we've been playing with tonight. How would you say he ranks up? Should we let him join, or keep looking?" Eventually Lee catches George and Matthew at their game and laughs it off. Lee knows his role is secure in the group because he's the only one with a key to the storage 'bunker'.

     When A.J. returns, the trio reassembles.  George introduces him as Lee's son. (Although Lee shrugs it off, George will continue to giggle about this quip the remainder of the evening.) The saxophone sounds great! A.J. is as much a musician as he is a gentleman. Though he insists on apologizing to Matthew at the end of nearly every song for unheard 'wrong' notes, he sounds fantastic. His humble spirit and delicate playing lifts the room. His playing is a wonderful compliment to Matthew's voice on STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT and AS TIME GOES BY. A perfect, silky smooth tone. The hassles of passing the mic back and forth are even forgotten about as A.J.'s solos float around the restaurant like a giant dove. This tranquility is abruptly interrupted when Lee knocks his glass of water off the window ledge scattering shards of glass across the floor. It quickly brings the trio back to the realization that things are a little skewed tonight. "Stuff like that never happens to Lee." remarks George. Matthew agrees "Yeah, and you know what else? There was no fire truck tonight.?" "Hmmm...maybe there's nothing left to burn. What a weird night."

     With help from Jeremy the matradee, Lee has finished cleaning up the spill. George dedicates the final song of the evening, YOUNG AT HEART  to A.J. His solo sounds superb as expected. The guys thank him and invite him to 'sit in with us anytime.' Matthew makes note of the firmness of A.J.'s grip. The rancher's weathered hand gently releases the handshake as if changing positions on a saxophone. There is a sparkle in his smile. "Thanks so much for allowing me to play with you guys tonight. That really brought back some old memories. I hope I sounded okay for all of you." Matthew pats A.J.'s shoulder. "You sounded great. I only hope that I sound as good as that 40 years from now." "You boys keep it up. It's all very good."  With horn case in tow, A.J. turns and heads through the doorway. They secretly watch him head across the street to his white pickup and trailer. When they can no longer hear the sound of his diesel engine down the road, George remarks "Man, that was cool!" Lee and Matthew reply "Yeah, it kinda made all the obstacles today  worthwhile." "You know he told me that he rode his tracker for 14 hours today on his ranch." "A very fascinating person." "Yes, he is." "Yeah..."

     The gear is loaded back into the van and Matthew's car respectively. Lee and George adjust their van seats. "Whew, what a night! The music was good, but what's up with everything going crazy?" "I don't know. Let's get out of here." Lee inserts his key, but the ignition won't yield. "Noooooooo!!!" George leans over to view the clump of keys in Lee's fist. "You're kidding me, right?" "I wish I was." is the defeated reply. "Do you want to give it a try 'Mr. Pendragon'?"

     But George is already out of the van trying to flag Matthew down. "What's up?" "Lee's van won't start." "Does he need a jump, because I've got cables." Lee emerges from the driver's side. "No. It won't turn. The key won't turn to start it." Matthew faces back to George, who is entering Lee's spot. "What do you want me to do?" "I don't know...but everyone else is gone, so you may be our only ride home if we can't get this started." George tries to turn the stubborn key, and attempts to evoke whatever ability he had 7 hours ago at the gas station. But he isn't as lucky this time - nothing happens. He rocks the van back and forth again, though he doubts that had any actual affect before. George stands and moves away from the wheel in the way a spent gambler slinks away from a non-producing slot machine after a long night of consuming coins. Lee returns to the seat and arm wrestles the wheel again. Matthew offers to say a prayer. Lee and George take a break from the struggle. The prayer is quick and to the point.

     The three look at each other as Lee attempts to crank the engine again. "Aaarrrggghhh!" George looks over at Matthew's compact car, and tries to envision how the three of them will fit with Matthew's bass, stool, amp, bent up mic stand, and cords. Just as he's about to call "Shotgun!" the van makes a beautiful sound. The jubilant sound associated with combustible engines. "Whew... Let's get out of here!" George re-enters the van and hardly notices the pungent smell of diluted Diet Coke. "What a crazy night!" Matthew waves goodbye and drives away from the van towards the toll way.

     A few minutes into the drive, George finally asks "Why are we going so slowly?" Lee responds without  taking his eyes off his side mirror. "Tire." "The tire is low again? Can we make it far enough to get air?" Lee reports ominously "I don't think the problem is that is has a leak. I think the tread is coming off. I'm gonna keep it under 35 miles per hour in hopes that we can make it back to Houston." "Do you have a spare?" "I think I might." Lee admits "I've never looked."

     The next 15 minutes are ominously quiet in the van. Lee and George listen intensely to the rhythmic rumbling and thumping that's growing from the driver's side of the van. Being a little past midnight, there are very few vehicles on the highway, which is good since the van is crawling along at a tedious 30 mph. And then the sound changes: First there's a sound like cannons fired in unison at the van immediately followed by an insidious churning of metal. Even though Lee and George knew a blowout was possible (and even likely) the two are still startled as the van violently struggles against the missing tire. George is tempted to yell "Whhhhhheeeeeeee." but fights the urge for Lee's sake. With all the strength he can muster, Lee subdues wheel of the van with a sharp turn to the right. The vehicle slows as it calmly rumbles to the side of the overpass.

     "I guess we're going to find out if you have a spare or not." Exhausted and feeling like they've been put through the wringer, the two slink from the front of the van and head to rear. "Where's the tire?" "Its not under there???" "Nope." George mentions that he once had a similar mini-van and the spare tire was under the back floorboard. "You mean under all of that equipment?" "Afraid so." Lee returns to the front of the van to cut the engine off. He turns the key ever so slightly, hoping the steering column won't 'notice' he's turned the engine off (making it easier to turn on later). George is busy unloading the gear from the back.

     When Lee returns to help he says "Don't put it out there where everybody can see it. Hide it on the side of the van so we'll be safe." George doesn't understand. "Hide it from WHOM? And safe from WHAT???" "Thieves." Lee says knowingly, as he points to the oncoming headlights. "Oh...from THIEVES." Lee continues in an emotionless tone "Yeah, it'd be really easy for someone with a gun to roll up here, shoot us, and take the gear. If nothing else, they'd have to know we have money and tips from playing tonight." "Well, I lost all my tip money to Matthew on a bet about a little known fact about the movie ERASERHEAD and Sissy Spacek, but I know what you mean." 

     Wide-eyed and attentive, George becomes suspicious of every vehicle that approaches. His imagination races like that of someone who's just heard a horrific campfire ghost story. He carefully watches as their headlights grow from indistinguishable pin prick holes in the darkness to bright beacons of doom. Some of the lights seem to slow as they eat up the distance between the highway and the van.

     George has finished 'hiding' the band's gear on the side of the van.   Lee quickly unlatches the braces and lifts the tiny spare from the rear floorboard. He begins to jack up the van, but has to lay on his side to find the reinforced area of the frame to attach it to. George finds it curious that this is the second time this evening that he has seen Lee lying on the ground fixing something.   Yawning, George is momentarily hypnotized by van's hazard lights as they blink away the seconds of the morning. He's got to get up in about 4 hours to go to his day job. Lee finally has the rim of the flat tire off. All that remains is a mangled slab of beaten rubber.  George volunteers to put the spare on (secretly thinking how the crowbar will serve as a weapon when the thieves arrive).    Lee watches for bandits that never come.

     The gear is loaded back into the van (for the third time tonight). Lee and George take their positions in the front. Both pause as they look at the cluster of keys protruding from the ignition. "Should we call Matt to pray?" Lee closes his eyes as he twists the bundle of keys clockwise... "Vrooooooom." answers the engine. Both exhale in unison "Whew!" "Lee, I'm hoping next week's visit to Ray's is not quite as eventful." Lee nods "Amen to that. I think we could use a big dose of 'boring' after tonight." George folds his jacket into a make-shift pillow to lean against the passenger window. "Yeah, boring would be welcomed."   
 

< Previous        Back to Main Blog Page         Next >