LINK LIVE IN COLUMBUS 10-14-2000
THE THIRSTY EAR TAVERN
another big THANKS! to Howie Fishman for this great review!!!
Seeing and hearing Link Wray in Hoboken, Oct. 7th, was an eye and ear opening experience that forced me to reevaluate my definitions of rock music and the rock musician. I concluded, for one thing, that the standard blues based progressions that rock and roll musicians, such as Link, have been enjoying for over four decades are still viable building blocks for great rock songs.
This was obvious to me from the response Link’s classics received from Maxwell’s patrons in the small back room off Washington St. A lot of these bar hoppers had never heard these great songs before, and they went nuts! I didn’t see anybody leave ‘till the second set ended past 2 A.M.
And as regards my concept of the rock musician, well, I thought I was a pretty liberal minded guy. I never limited the job classification to young, good looking males under the age of 30. I couldn’t do that, ‘cause then I’d be out of the running! But apparently I had never extended those parameters far enough to allow for a 70 year old rocker who could strap on an electric six shooter and drive a crowd into a frenzy. On October 7th Link continued a tradition he started nearly half a century ago, a tradition of exploding old, stale concepts about performing and recording music, about the proper way for a rock musician to look and behave, and about rock music itself.
I’m a seasoned concert go-er and I’ve seen some knock-your-socks-off shows in my day. The better ones have left a smile on my face for days after the show ended, but usually the afterglow started to dim by a week following the show. However, one week following the Hoboken Link Wray show I still felt so exhilarated by Link’s performance, I had difficulty getting excited about other imminent concerts I was planning to attend.
I awoke very early Saturday, October 14th, still feeling the Link Wray spell cast upon me one week earlier. I slept very little Friday night, thinking over a crazy idea that had snuck into the back of my mind a few days earlier. It went something like this... if Link and Julie were still traveling and touring out of the white Econovan in which they left Maxwell’s, October 7th, how far could they have gotten in one week, stopping to play a couple gigs along the way? And if they were within driving distance, did I have anything more important to do with my Autumn weekend than to drive that distance and experience Link’s show again? What, like rake some leaves or something? I suppose to a lot of people it would be crazy to drive all weekend to hear somebody play guitar for a couple hours. But Link has never cared about what anyone else thought, so why should I?
After convincing my family there was no cause for alarm, they undid the straightjacket and wished me happy motoring! Actually, they were as always totally supportive of this rock and roll endeavor. And I know the neighbors were happy to see me leave... really, what’s the big deal. So I like to jam to Link’s old Swan recordings through the overdrive channel of my Marshall, with the gain adjusted to ten. Alright, we live in a small apartment building, but still...
I needed to travel light, so I threw only the barest of essentials into my Volkswagen: the Barbed Wire CD, Walking Down A Street Called Love, Rhino’s “Best Of...” collection, some Stevie Ray Vaughn, the recent Leslie West solo effort, Keith Richard’s first solo album, a change of socks, a toothbrush, and a roadworthy electric in a hard-shell case.The socks were admittedly an extravagance, but I wanted to be prepared in the event things got out of hand and I became detained by local authorities before the weekend concluded; One should always look one’s best while detained out of state.
I have failed to indicate the destination of this journey: The Thirsty Ear Tavern in Columbus, Ohio. Not a big deal at all. The only thing separating Link, Olive Julie, the band, and me was the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. OK, so it’s one of the widest states in the country and every one of its highways is being destructed, restructed, constructed and obstructed. I was on a mission to hear Link Wray live. Once I hit Rt. 80 West, I knew there wasn’t anyone or anything that could stop this inevitability from happening.
In all honesty, the trip across Pennsylvania and into Ohio was absolutely beautiful. Autumn peaks the second and third weeks of October in this part of the country, and between the blasting CD player, the turning leaves, and the eighteen cups of MacDonald’s coffee I had drank along the way, I was feeling great as I got off Rt. 80 outside Akron and made my final decent via Rt. 71 into the greater Columbus metropolitan area. Just for kicks, and to find out what time zone I was in, I decided to give the CD player a break and check out the local radio stations. Surfing the FM band I discovered a commercial-free station that was smack in the middle of one of its fundraisers. I love those stations, especially the college based ones, but those money raising evangelists of rock and roll grate me the wrong way sometimes. But this rock and roll Jimmy Swaggart seemed pretty cool, so I listened for a few minutes as he explained that the next song was by a local band from Cleveland called The Cowslingers. He continued that they were opening for rock and roll legend Link Wray tonight in Columbus and that he had only one ticket left for some very lucky caller prepared to phone in and pledge X amount of dollars. Well, that really got my juices flowing! It was back to Link’s CDs and the final leg of the trip.
I pulled into Columbus about 9:00 P.M. and had absolutely no trouble whatsoever locating The Thirsty Ear Tavern. I spend a lot of time listening to music in New York City and I found it odd that Columbus was even designated the same way, i.e. as a city. Actually, I was very pleased to discover I could park right on the street, alongside The Thirsty Ear Tavern, without 5 meter maids immediately rushing my car as a tow truck pulled in front and hooked up its chains. I apologize to those who haven’t had the pleasure of visiting New York City and don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.
I paid my very reasonable cover charge (too reasonable, so far as I’m concerned - how much do you think a band is compensated when the house only pulls between $15 and $25 per head?) and stood near the bar sizing up this venue, still a casual observer and not quite yet an active participant. This was a whole different scene than Maxwell’s. For one thing, it was a much smaller room. For another, most of the floor space was occupied by cafe style tables and chairs overseen by smiling, enterprising waitresses. Maxwell’s was standing room only - no creature comforts whatsoever - only the strong survived. One feature of The Thirsty Ear Tavern that was very, very cool was this glass enclosed case displaying old rock and roll memorabilia. There was a copy of the original Link Wray And The Wraymen album, on the Epic label, behind the glass.
I claimed a table for my own and proceeded to shed the tensions of the 500 mile trip I had just completed. Within seconds a smiling waitress introduced herself and requested my order, except I didn’t have one! I was just hanging out, waiting for Link. She left. I chilled out for a few minutes, and she returned. OK, I decided she and everyone else at The Ear had a right to make a living, so I ordered a bottle of Bud. Sure, I’m not a big spender, but I had something else to spend my money on, namely gas for the 500 mile trip home later that night!
‘Round about 10:00 P.M. the Cowslingers hit the stage, and though they were very competent musically, I didn’t care for them. They’re a rockabilly organization that’s a little too cocky, a little too sure of themselves, for my liking. I really like humility in an up and coming act, a respect for the masters and a respect for the audience... but that’s me. Many at The Thirsty Ear Tavern knew this band well and loved them. And that’s fine, cause it’s all in the ears of the beholder.
Following the Cowslingers’ set I abandoned my table , leaving a generous tip (another gallon of gas shot to hell!) and moved on up to the stage. It was still early, ‘bout 11:00 P.M., but I hadn’t come this far to have anyone or anything stand between me and Link. I grabbed another Bud at the bar and chatted with the doorman as I awaited the arrival of Link, Julie , and the band. I mentioned that I just drove in from Jersey for tonight’s show and that I was leaving as soon as it ended, and he looked at me the same way the wife and kids did when I told them I was driving to Ohio, some sixteen hours earlier. I decided it might be best to maintain my close proximity to the stage and just keep my mouth shut.
After another 10 or 15 minutes three figures I recognized appeared at the door. They were Link’s drummer, bass guitarist, and another fellow who, so far as I can tell, is a jack of all trades who functions as a PR man one minute, a drum tech the next, and any number of other possibilities the next. Who is he? He is “The Irish guy with the long hair”, at least according to Link’s drummer. I know nothing more about him than that.
While the guys were setting up and preparing for Link’s arrival, I spoke with Link’s bass player. I was curious about his Danelectro Longhorn bass and questioned him about it. Turns out it’s an imported reissue - no surprise actually. The original Danelectros were made many years ago, and though they weren’t great guitars, they still have great value today because they’re collector’s guitars. We also discussed the strategics of his touring with Link. He described the process by which some moment of inspiration or urgency to tour on the part of Link would result in Link’s phoning him and their rendezvousing in New York City (I assumed at Kennedy Airport, although that may not necessarily be the case) and initiating a tour from the New York City, Tri State area.
I let the boys continue with their work and waited patiently at the stage, and moments later I saw a long haired fellow sporting a black Elvis tee standing outside the large plate glass front window... it could only be one person! And seconds later Link and Julie were standing directly in front of me, tuning up and greeting the Midwestern, plus one screwball from New Jersey, crowd.
It goes without saying that Link opened with Rumble - when the day comes that that doesn’t occur, be concerned about the balance of powers in this universe. After just enough bars to raise a goose bump or two, Link flipped Screaming Red around 180 degrees and offered Red up to those who wished to strum her heart strings and take their communication with Link one notch higher. One dude got so excited he climbed up on stage and started talking all this stuff to Link and I’m sure Link couldn’t understand one word of it! But Link smiled and was completely cool - I’m sure he’s seen crazier things in his day!
The show was similar to the show I saw one week earlier in New Jersey, concentrating heavily on the classics such as Run Chicken Run, Jack The Ripper, Deuces Wild, Ace Of Spades, The Sweeper, The Batman Theme, etc. One exception, though, was the exclusion of Bruce Springsteen’s Fire from the set in Columbus. It was wonderful hearing Link do it in Hoboken, especially being that Springsteen is from Jersey. On the other hand, Link did the “enhanced” version of Young And Beautiful, you know, where he pauses and says, “You’re so young and beautiful, and I’m so fucking old!”. Well, let me tell you, everybody in the house was screaming one thing or the other after that - I clearly remember what came out of my mouth at that moment as if it just happened last night - it was a defiant “No you’re not!”.
When Link left the room at the conclusion of the opening set he again, as in Hoboken, set into motion a massive wall of feedback before he exited onto the street... except this time some knucklehead, thinking he was doing everyone a favor, walked up to the stage and turned off Link’s fuzz box in an effort to curb the feedback. What a knucklehead!
When Link returned, Bobby (guitarist from The Cowslingers) joined Link on stage and attempted to jam with Link on several songs, including Rumble and Ace Of Spades. I was not very happy with this conclusion to the show. I don’t think this young guitarist had a clue what was actually coming down in Columbus that night. He was clearly showing off and playing in his own ego centered world, rather than playing with and in response to Link. I think the proper relationship between master and journeyman guitar slingers is well represented on the “In Session” CD featuring Stevie Ray Vaughn and Albert King. Stevie gave his senior plenty of room to stretch out and play - he clearly had tremendous respect for Albert. He never attempted to dominate the session or overshadow his mentor. There are recorded conversations between songs demonstrating Albert’s intention for Stevie to take over his work soon ‘cause he was getting on in his years. In the end, of course, Albert well outlived Stevie.
At the conclusion of this short and uninspired exchange between Bobby and Link, Link exited to the street, not to be heard from again. I remained at the stage for some time, staring at Screaming Red, and eventually walked up to Link’s beloved guitar and placed my hands upon it. I don’t know why, I had already shaken Link’s hand, but I guess I was still looking for some physical connection to Link that might translate into some magic in my own songs and guitar playing. I walked onto the street hoping I might run into Link and Julie outside, and a representative from The Thirsty Ear Tavern reprimanded me for stepping outside with a beer in my hands. What did I know? In New York City, where I often go to hear music, it is not only acceptable to drink beer on the street, but it’s perfectly acceptable to urinate on the sidewalk afterwards... please do not misconstrue these statements as an endorsement of this practice.
I decided to cut my losses and prepared to head back to Jersey. I spoke with Link’s drummer briefly and left Columbus about 2:00 A.M. Accept for a couple hours of shuteye at a truck stop on Rt. 71 where I sandwiched my VW between two semis, it was a direct run home that found me back in Morris County by sunset, Sunday night. I grabbed the kids and dragged them off to Ruby Tuesdays for steaks and burgers, where I tormented them with romantic tales about Link and Julie and, of course, Screaming Red.
So that’s the end of the story. Don’t misunderstand me now, seeing Link in Hoboken and Columbus didn’t quench my thirst for that pure rock and roll tone... I tried like heck to learn exactly when and where Link was playing in Worcester, Mass. following the Columbus show. But have you ever attempted communications with an American university... you’re better off calling an office of the federal government! Link may or may not have played at Clark College in Worcester, Mass., I have no idea. I sure hope he did, for the benefit of my friends in New England. According to his schedule, he eventually moved onto Spain, and not having that much faith in my VW, that’s when and where my touring with Link concluded.
One final thought. I implied in my previous review (of the Hoboken show) that I had some misgivings about the manner in which Link’s been treated, or should I say mistreated, by the music industry over the years, and wrote about Link’s failure to attain fame and fortune as though it were a serious handicap. I may have been a little hasty in my conclusions...
I checked out this movie a couple weeks ago called “The Filth And The Fury”, a documentary about punk rock band The Sex Pistols, including footage of Sid Vicious and his girlfriend, Nancy. Sid and Nancy were so tragic and self-destructive, they even ruined the lives of everyone around them. Sid achieved remarkable fame and fortune, very quickly, as a matter of fact, but the net results of his success were dope addiction and eventually death. It got me thinking, does Link really have it so bad? Sure, he’s never going to achieve tremendous fame and fortune, but he’s living a rock and roll fantasy. He tours the world with the girl he loves, playing rock and roll guitar in city after city for multiple generations of fans who respect and adore him. He has Julie, Screaming Red, his fans, and he has the satisfaction that comes with performing and recording on one’s own terms, without any compromises whatsoever. That’s a lot more than most rockers have.
Howie Fishman