This Is Embarrassing

I started a post this morning with the best of intentions. It was called "Housekeeping" and was meant to catch up on my lackness (I don't think that's word but you get what I mean) of honor posts.

Today's post started off with the two sentences below and then the list (which would have been replaced with photos and videos) I started making by going through my calendar. While I was in the calendar I decided it would be a great idea to add the b-day d-day dates to each entry which would save me time when I create the blog posts (unfortunately my pea brain can't hold date facts for 48+ musicians). And that's when I realized that I was missing some of the entries. For example, Dennis Wilson was listed on December 28th for his d-day but not on December 4th for his b-day.

After a couple of those popping up I thought it was best to go through the book and double check every musician. Oops. I am missing some of the musicians altogether. Jerry Garcia, for example, has never been individually honored on my blog. I really suck!

So, instead of completing the original post (since it would now be longer than War & Peace), I am making another resolution. Right now I am going to finish going through the book and make sure every musician is on my calendar, and I promise to honor each and every one of them twice a year on their respective dates from this day forward.

Here's the makings of today's original post:

Having spaced for the past couple of months, I missed honoring the birthdays and deathdays of some of the dearly beloved musicians in my book.

This post is for them.

Mike Gibbins d-day 3/12/49-10/4/05
November 24th - Albert Collins D-day although I did acknowledge his birthday on October 1.
December 10 - Ron Aspery D-day
Zappa - 12/21/40-12/4/93
Carl Wilson
Hank Snow
Maurice Gibb
Dennis Wilson
Maureen Starkey
Rick Nelson
John Denver
Check rest of book and add:
Dan Fogelberg
George Carlin
Rick Wright

P.S. One more thing I was going to mention under the "Housekeeping" title is the Steal My Book deal is over as of this Sunday, as well as the specials I've been offering on prints. So, hit me up on the website or email sales@cheshercat.com if you want to save some dough.

Oh, I also promised a photo on every post. This is something I shot in December and could end up in another project I am working on...too early to talk about it though.

Ringing It In

I don't get out much. Dunno why. I just don't. Especially on New Year's Eve. Sadly, I really can't remember the last time I was outside of my house on the biggest party night of the year. I have a vague memory of some party hopping I did in the early nineties. One of the parties was at some condo on Doheny where Phyllis Diller was in attendance amongst other Hollywood luminaries. But since then it's been a night at home consuming a mouthful of black-eyed peas at the stroke of midnight.

Imagine my surprise when I got an invite to a NYE party at The Palace....hmmm...black-eyed peas at home alone or a swanky party at The Palace? Tough decision. Not. Those black-eyed haven't been doing what they're supposed to do for me anyway. Time to step out and see if I can function in a social petri dish where I maybe know 3 people.

First hurdle - What do I wear?

Maybe I should go for something elegant - it is The Palace after all. Scan the closet. I got nothing.

Second hurdle - How do I behave?

I'm a creative type. We're supposed to be esoteric, deep, mysterious and aloof. Let me work on that.

I take a shower - that's where I get my best ideas. The water falls on my head and within 30 seconds I'm creating a dialogue (writer-speak for conversation) with an imaginary cool person I'm positive I'm going to engage at the party. The shit is pouring out of me. My fellow writers would be green. Definitely esoteric, deep, mysterious and aloof. I'm soooo ready.

Back to the closet. Still nothing. Where's my fairy godmother when I need her? Fuck it. I'll go for comfort. Against the grain of the L.A. cool crowd. What do I care? I pull out jeans, a black shirt, black cowboy boots inlaid with snakeskin (which no one will know except me) and my old black leather motorcycle jacket.

Oh, and at the last minute, I decide to take my camera. It's big enough to hide behind. Just in case. And one more thing...my insurance policy...a very hot, very young guy:

So what if he's my spawn. And so what if he bailed on me an hour in. At least I didn't show up a-l-o-n-e. Time to hide behind the camera.

Click:

Cucumber Rob and Counting Crows founder/bassist Matt Malley.

Click:

Four Clarks and the guy on the end.

Click:

Dancing Queen (and King).

Click:

And again.

Then I met this freak...

Click:

...and the banter began. The esoteric, deep, mysterious and aloof dialogue I had worked out in the shower was nowhere to be found. Instead it was an instant uncontrolled match of wits in order to take the piss out of each other. Yup. I digressed into my regular schtick. With a fellow-freak.

Then "the guy on the end" joined the freak fray. He accused me of stealing his camera. I apologized for taking over his job as 'official party photographer' and it went on and on from there. Cutting remarks. Fun, fun, fun. Until Matt (the freak above) let the Chesher Cat out of the bag and mentioned my book to "the guy on the end" and he suddenly flipped out. "You're THAT photographer?" I don't think he knew that I knew who he was but even better than that was the fact that I'd completely forgotten that the Clark's had me sign a book personalized to him which they gifted to him.

He gushed about the book (wow, you really like it?) and, much to the dismay of both of us (because we were really enjoying the pissing contest), our conversation turned semi-serious...you know, to the creative shit we both indulge in on a daily basis. Yup, we had a creative connection of mutual admiration. Even though he's WAY more accomplished than me. Thankfully, it wasn't the esoteric, deep, mysterious and aloof dialogue I had written in the shower. Thankfully.

At some point he picked up my camera insisted on taking my picture...

Click:

No way I was going to give him a good picture. Take that Mr. Durst.

Of course, I then made it my mission to take a bunch of good pictures of him (yes, I'm that competitive)...

Click:

Anybody got a light?

Click:

Jonathan Clarke and "the way too accomplished guy."

Click:
"No, don't do it, Fred! We'll have security remove the paparazzi stalker chick."

My thanks to the Clark's for the invite and for not confiscating my camera (although Daniel did make a play for my memory card at the end of the evening - I'm assuming he meant the one in my camera).

And thanks to evrybody else who played with me. It was a boatload of fun.

Here's the best of the rest (at least the ones that are suitable for posting)...

Click:

Obviously Matt's only hope of getting lucky with his wife.

Click:

The bump still exists!?!

Click:

Look, Cucumber Rob somehow managed to snag a wife.

Click:

Excellent. A new Roger Corman movie.

Click:

True divaism.

Click:

Kissy, kissy.

Click:

Done.

To You and You and You and You...

Wishing you (and me)...

...a stupendously serendipitous 2009!!

A Time for Reflection?

Everybody does it around this time of year, right? Even if they don't admit it. I've been doing it full time since Christmas and off and on for all of 2008. Here's what I've figured out so far...

This year has been a real mixed bag for me. Lots of highs and lots of lows. Dunno why. I rode the high of 2007 for a good six months into '08 but then it mostly crashed and burned. I could really feel the onset of that little thing they were optimistically calling "the economic downturn" before it soon became known as "the recession" and I'm hoping won't become "the depression."

My lowest low came in August with Jaimie's brain surgery fiasco. The surgery itself wasn't a fiasco but everything that's come after it has been and continues to be. Of course, it's much worse for her because she is living it day after day but it definitely eats me up in ways I never expected. To the point that I feel like I had brain surgery too. But instead of installing a shunt in my head, they just decided it was best to remove my brain completely. You know, it's hard for me to be creatively prolific without my brain there to make a modicum of sense out of the sewage that pours out of my heart and soul. It's as if I am suffering from some sort of paralysis...the ideas are all there, swirling like a tornado through Kansas, but then pffft...I realize that I've just lost another hour, day, or week, time traveling in a fog.

Alright, stop right there. What a freakin' downer. More than enough reflection. Best to look forward. Figure out what I'm gonna do about it. How am I going to get back on the track and be the engineer of my life instead of the passenger? How am I going to rise up while the world economy continues to flush itself down the shitter? Is it even possible when most of us are living paycheck-to-paycheck? Uh oh...I don't even get a paycheck. Even so, somehow I've always managed to pull the proverbially rabbit out of the hat and I don't see why that should change now.

I'm not real big on New Year's resolutions. I think they set you up for failure. But I am going to make one. Just one. Seemingly simple. New Year's resolution.

I'm going to post something on this blog every single day in 2009.

Why would I make that my one resolution? Because I figure if I post every day, everything else will stay the course. And let's see...how about with each blog entry I commit to posting a photograph. I think. Maybe. Or. Hmmm. Damn those swirling ideas with no brain to sort them out.

Anyway, if you don't see a new post you'll know I'm dead.

This should be fun.

Paul Butterfield's Birthday

He would have been 66 today, December 17th.

Check this out...the real deal at Monterey 1967:



Wish I coulda' been there.

Steal My Book

I've officially lost my mind!

For a whole lotta reasons I'm putting a last minute blockbuster blowout book sale on my website for the remainder of the month. Brand spanking new books for $25.

It's so low I can't even figure out what the discount is off the retail price. I just know it's even below the distributor price. Definitely below the amazon price. And they're signed. Heck, I'll even personalize them to the person(s) of your choice (now, I've really lost it).

Anyway, for those who are curious, those whole lotta reasons (watch me try and justify this apparent insanity) include but are not limited to:

1. I'm nice
2. I want every person to have a copy of my book
3. One of my distributors is sending back a few hundred books and I have no room for them.
4. It's the holidays and I feel like giving
5. I love you

So, now's the time to get the gift(s) you need for the music lover in your life (which should include everybody). And if you don't have a copy or two for yourself, it's time for you to join EISID owners such as Slash, Motley Crue bassist Nikki Sixx, and, Rick Vito and Mick Fleetwood caught enjoying their copies right here...

Actually, Mick Fleetwood gets a mention in the book. Do you know who's section he appears in and why?

Coming next...
How I found myself interviewing Mick Fleetwood and Rick Vito, and the show that followed.

Click the STEAL MY BOOK link to the right of this post to get your copy(s) now.

Mill Valley Public Library

I visited the Mill Valley Public Library today. When I was here in October I met a guy at Starbucks who told me about a photo exhibit the library had of a female rock'n'roll photographer who lived in the area. But alas, the only photos they had up were of Mill Valley itself taken from 1908 on. Very cool stuff but the closest one to rock'n'roll was a shot of some retail workers posing in front of their store with Huey Lewis in the late 80s.

While I was there I did something I've never done before. I went on their catalogue computer and looked for my book. Just for fun. Definitely not expecting it to be listed.

But there it was: Chesher, D - Everybody I Shot Is Dead - Cat# 761.88 Status: Check Shelf. How cool is that?

As I walked toward the shelf - a left at the last computer, a couple of aisles down, and take a right - I was thinking it would be fun to put a personal note in the book. I finally found the 761.88 shelf...but my book wasn't there. :-(

I considered asking the librarian about my book...why it wasn't on the shelf, if it was checked out, or maybe stolen?...but then I figured she'd think I was an egomaniac. I mean, what kind of person goes into a library in hopes of seeing their book on the shelf?

Last Saturday Night

I still feel like crap...but here's a photo from the coolness that was last Saturday night. Any guesses on who the three people are in this picture?

Or where it was taken? And why? Being the evil person I am, I blocked out the logo on the bass drum. Sorry. But being the nice person that I am, all will be revealed soon.

Remembering Tom Evans

25 years ago today, Tommy Evans tragically passed away at the age of 36. He was the bass player for Badfinger and co-wrote many of their hit songs with Pete Ham. The story of their rise and fall in the music industry is a truly sad and cautionary tale.

June 5, 1947 - November 19, 1983

He was a sweet and talented man...a huge loss to the music world.

This is a very cool video that features Tommy Evans on vocals:

I'm Back...Almost

I would really attempt to write a full blown post...if I wasn't sweating like a penguin waddling along the Equator, and hacking like a 70 year old alcoholic with a three pack a day habit.

Check back in a day or two and I promise I'll have my story of my cooler than cool Saturday, complete with pictures.

Time to sleep off the remainder of this piece of shit illness that I think I picked up at the virus-infested American Film Market a week ago Sunday.

Later.

John Denver

Eleven years ago today, an experimental airplane piloted by John Denver plunged into the ocean off the coast of California. A huge loss.

John Denver
12/31/43 - 10/12/97

Fly high, John.

Ronnie Barron's Birthday

The late great Ronnie Barron would have been 65 today.

I took this photo of him when he was playing with Paul Butterfield's Better Days. He also played with John Mayall when I was working with John on my Starart book.

Unfortunately, Ronnie is one of the musical talents that has slipped through the cracks since he passed away, even though he had a substantial influence on music. I only found one video of him on youtube which was put up in June. The quality is crap but it's still worth a play.



Happy Birthday, Ronnie!

The Iceman

It's Albert Collins' 76th birthday today.

Nobody's cooler than the Iceman.

You can all chill to this...

Happy Birthday to the cool of cool.

Marc Bolan Again

This is what I think sucks. Two weeks ago was the 31st anniversary of Marc Bolan's death. And today is the 61st anniversary of his birth. I've said I before and I'll say it again...I really don't like it when people die right before their birthday. It just doesn't seem fair. Especially for Marc. Two weeks before the big 3-0.

Now that I got that out of the way, please sing a Happy Birthday to Marc. Out loud. So he can hear you. Loud, like he's singing in this photo...

It's his birthday...let him eat peach.

Happy Birthday, Marc.

Remembering John Bonham

It was 28 years ago today that John Bonham passed away.

Listen up...nobody does it better.

Moby Dick - Pt 1:



Moby Dick - Pt 2:

Rick Wright

Rick Wright
July 28, 1943 – September 15, 2008

You should know by now that I hate it when someone I've photographed passes away. The mid-seventies was such an amazing and magic time for music. I wish I could have stopped time so all of us could relive those times in eternity. Rick Wright and the work of Pink Floyd was a huge part of the magic of the time.

These are two of my photos of Rick Wright, previously unseen, first time out of the box.

The following is an amazing video I found on youtube. I'm guessing you haven't seen it since it's only had 2800 views. Rick Wright is featured in the studio playing piano on his song, Us and Them. Well worth a look. According to Wikipedia, this was a staged session shot in January 1973, while they were mixing Dark Side of the Moon, and is on the 1974 re-release of film, Pink Floyd: Live at Pompeii.

Oops...

...I owe a memorial post to Rick Wright of Pink Floyd who passed away on September 15th. I shot Pink Floyd sometime in 1975. Barely. I have 18 bad (as in the 'bad' bad, not the 'good' bad) black & white frames and 14 semi-not great color slides. I don't remember much about shooting the show and don't remember if I even met them. I'd like to say I was on LSD or something...but I wasn't.

I remember seeing them, and meeting them, years later - around 1992 - in Los Angeles...the show with the giant floating animals, but then again, Rick wasn't with them then. And I didn't take pictures at that show.

Hopefully, I will have a chance to scan a photo of Rick tomorrow...after I meet my new accountants so I can get my 2007 taxes done.

Also, I am wishing Travis Barker and Adam Goldstein speedy recoveries. I never photographed Blink 182. But I did allow Jaimie to go to their concert at the Hollywood Palladium - her first - with some friends when she was fifteen. When I picked them up, Jaimie proudly lifted her shirt. Written in a fat black Sharpie on her abdomen was:

Travis
was
here.

With a big arrow pointing downward to you-know-where.

Of course, she was thrilled. And I thank him for making her first concert a memorable one.

Marc Bolan and My Daughter

Thirty-one years ago today we lost Marc Bolan in a tragic car accident...
Less than three years after I took this photo of him...
And just as he was getting his shit together and making his comeback...

September 30, 1947 - September 16, 1977

And what could this possibly have to do with my daughter?

Today is her birthday.

Happy Birthday, Jaimie!!

It Is Brain Surgery - Part 3

D-day...or should I say S-day?

Not much sleep at the Travelodge the night before the surgery. I never sleep well when I know I have to get up at 5:30am. Jaimie had a girlfriend sleeping over at her place and it was decided that I would be the one to drive her to the hospital, where she had to arrive at 6:30am for a pre-op MRI, and Jaimie's friend would pick up Tyler and bring him to the hospital around nine.

When I woke up, Tyler was already up...actually he never went down. I guess he couldn't sleep and decided to spend the night researching his sister's surgery online. By morning he knew everything - definitely more than me, probably more than Jaimie (Miss Research herself) and maybe even as much as the surgeon. He decided he wanted to ride with us, so we checked out of the motel and raced up the hill to Jaimie's.

Of course, we were late. And, of course, it was all my fault. She insisted that I drive (her brother drives too slow) and haul ass across the Golden Gate bridge, into the city, up the gigantic hills, to the hospital. During the drive, Tyler asked her a technical question about the surgery - something about the kind of procedure she was having, whether it was the invasive or the other kind. She didn't know the answer but was happy he had taken such an interest and had done so much research.

I said practically nothing on the way there. I didn't mind that she was royally pissed at me. I knew it was just her way of dealing with her fear of what was to come. The least I could do was let her have at me. It was even okay when she didn't want me in the room where they prepped her for the surgery after she had her MRI. She only wanted Tyler. I stayed out in the waiting area until she gave in and sent Tyler out to get me. On our way back to her room, Tyler just had to point out this:

How crazy is that? What kind of hospital were we in? Did I really want my daughter operated on here? And what kind of mother names her kid Frank Stein?

I got in her room just in time to help her with the white stockings they make surgery patients wear. I took a picture of her putting them on but I can't post it here 'cause it's just way too sexy. It wasn't long after that the surgeon showed up. I hadn't met him before so it was really nice that he took the time (separate of Jaimie) to explain to me and Tyler what was going on and exactly what he was going to do.

The downside to the conversation was its dose of reality...this was a very serious thing that he was going to do and at that point I had thoughts of grabbing my little girl and running for the hills. It didn't matter that this guy was supposed to be the best at his job. The idea of him drilling through my daughter's skull and brandishing foreign objects into her brain did not sit well with me. What if he missed? What if he sneezed while he was guiding the shunt through the center of her brain? Unlike most of us, Jaimie actually uses her brain. Then there was the thought that the stuff he was putting in there was actually going to stay in there...for the rest of her life. Ugh.

I had hoped that the conversation with the doctor might offer some sliver of information that I could use to argue for a less invasive form of treatment. Like a vacation on Maui with rest and relaxation. Or even some untested medication. How about a dude with shrunken skulls on a stick? Anything besides the image I had of a Black & Decker drill busting through my kid's cranium. But then he said something that hit me like a Mack truck on a rainy day... "Generally we like to see the brain fluid pressure at 0. The highest acceptable pressure is 20. Jaimie's brain fluid pressure is at 25." I had to accept it. There was no turning back. The train had left the station.

Surprisingly, they let Tyler and me follow Jaimie into the operating area, after dressing up for Halloween, of course.

My son the doctor.

The real doctor checks her out.

The kids are alright.

I'm not...it all looked like this to me.

All too soon, they booted us out of the inner sanctum and took back our scrubs. We were sent downstairs to the information desk in the hospital lobby, where we registered with a volunteer and were given a notification device that made me think we were waiting for a table at The Cheesecake Factory. We found some open seats in a back corner of the room that had a television running the Olympics. Not much of a distraction knowing that Jaimie was going through her own marathon. Tyler eventually got one of the love seat sofas and promptly passed out. I waited. And waited. And waited.

It Is Brain Surgery - Part 2

The Elephant In The Room

Jaimie's surgeon required her to see a physician prior to her surgery, just to make sure she was healthy enough to go under his knife...and his drill. The appointment was set with some local general med doctor for the before I arrived but for some reason the doctor didn't show. Not the added pressure needed two days before brain surgery.

But, as usual, she had a plan b and quickly made an appointment at her school's clinic...at 8:00am. And it was my job to drive her there. By the time I got to her place (remember, I'm on my Aero bed at the local Travelodge) and got her in the car, we were running a tad or two late. By the time we arrived she had me pull over and let her out before I parked the car. She moved so quick I didn't notice which door she entered. When I was done parking and went into the main entrance of the clinic she wasn't in the waiting room. Assuming she'd already been taken in, I sat on one of the hard wooden park benches, dropped my head back.

I'm not all that patient but for some reason I just sat there and didn't bother checking with the reception desk on Jaimie's progress. An hour had passed when I received a text message from her, "What are you doing?"

"Sitting in the waiting room. Where are you?"

"They wouldn't see me. Going at 10:30. I'm on campus."

Nice. I sat there for an hour for nothing. That was okay. She let me know the alternative would have been a verbal killing. Guess she needed the time to chill out. Turns out I only escaped death by verbs because I went to the wrong clinic. My lucky day.

For any screenwriters out there, this is a classic example of subtext (both behavioral and verbal). Even though it seems she was pissed at me, that wasn't it at all. It was the elephant in the room. You know, the little-mentioned fact that she was facing brain surgery the following morning.

I met her on campus after a quick snack at the Bear's Lair and by then it was time to head back to the clinic for her check-up. With that out of the way, her next distraction was to meet up with a friend on campus. On the way to lunch we decided to take a ride to the top of the Campanile, which for me (of course) created a photo op.

The Campanile built in 1914. Is it safe to go up there?

On a clear day you can see forever...

...and ever...

...unless you look down.

Yup, it's a long way down.

How clever does one have to be to come up with this set up?

Bells and Corinthian pillars?

Very big bells.

After lunch we headed back to Jaimie's place. And I can't for the life of me remember what we did after that. Not one bit of it. It's a blur. Maybe we bought a bag of peanuts and fed the elephant in the room.