The Whatshisname McTabernacle years
--By this point, between the four of us, we had already given out over half of the copies of the album as free complimentary gifts to friends and family. The other twenty or so we're going to be sold by our local Media Play outlet. Naturally, the store was giving us about three bucks for each tape they sold (which about covered our costs) but they were charging a normal cassette price of like eleven bucks. Now Ave felt this was a rip-off considering the low technical quality of the product, and so he put a little note in each tape that they could receive a free T-Shirt (out of our own pockets). Luckily I don't think anyone ever sent it in. The store wanted us to do an in-store appearance to plug the album. And so with Ave's friend and fellow "Prosaic Trenis Puck" member, Tom Hoover filling in on skins, we went down and played. A large crowd showed up, but none of them were there to shop. They all just sat down in middle of the aisles of merchandise, clogging up the store. Instead of the usual 15 or 30 minute set, were given a full hour and a half to play, which we filled as best we could given constant technical gremlins. Shows where there was house equipment for us to play through (like at the Merc) went o.k. Anything where we had to bring our own bargain basement equipment sucked. At one point we burst into the instrumental "Winking At You" with Ave just grabbing the mike and making up all sort of random weird shit. Now Tom, who had never even heard this song before, started laughing so hard he fell off the drum stool. It was one of those shows. Now, Tom wasn't really a drummer either. In fact, no one in "Prosaic" really played an instrument - it was all programmed. So we had to sit there as he slowly learned all of our old songs, but still I was thankful for his filling in at the last minute. But I didn't for a minute think his position was permanent. I knew he was a good friend of Ave's though. I wanted Aaron Wheeler - who was really a much better trumpeter, and bassist than drummer, but still thoroughly impressed me as an extremely musical personality. I thought I had convinced Ave of this when I left, once again, for Washington.
--I simply could not concentrate on school. Everything seemed trivial compared to the band. There was nothing to do. Nothing at all. Ave would call frequently, and tell me about his latest exploits. Open Mike Poetry. Ave would go up and do this large extravagant pieces. More costuming and lights and planted audience members and such than you'd usually expect for this kind of venue. I couldn't stop laughing we he told me of his latest performance. And the stunned re-action of the audience. He even got a show at the performance art space known as "The Bug" that involved a four foot long paper mache lobster. Too much.
--I knew what I had to do. I realized that if I left Evergreen that all my school credits would become virtually worthless. And I realized that this would mean I'd be back in Colorado, a state that I loathed so dearly in high school. Probably attending some sort of boring real school, learning nothing, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't see why I should stay in Washington anymore. So I rented a truck loaded everything up and moved back to Arvada. Ave and I were going to rent an apartment together where would work on music day and night. I was going to stay with my folks until we found a place. Well... one week turned into two turned into three months before I finally got sick of the living at home thing and pretty much got the apartment on my own. Ave and I moved into what were pretty close to the slums of Arvada (that really aren't any - but comparatively it was close). Well, Ave transferred down to the Kings that was merely ten blocks closer, and immediately regretted it. He somehow blamed me for forcing him to live here and work there. The guy was a year older than me and still living with his folks. I thought he would've been grateful for helping him escape. But instead... When it got cold, well, the furnace konked out. And I was completely unable to rouse the landlord to do anything. Ave being a skinny type, could not stand the cold. He ended up spending most nights back at his folks' place. And then he wouldn't give me his half of the rent, because he felt he didn't owe since he really didn't live there. The other months, he simply didn't have enough I would lend him whatever he needed. Sometimes he'd pay me back, but not that often. But it was ok. I was living my dream. Pursuing my goal with all might. But not all of his.
--It seemed to me that we were practicing about as often as we did when I was living in WA. Ave didn't even mention to Tom that he wasn't really going to be a Phlegmtone, and he had practicing the whole time I was away. Ave and Tom were very close, and I know it broke his heart to tell him such. I don't remember being that persistent about Aaron, but Ave always sort of blamed me throwing Tom out (the first time). We would get gigs and Ave would cancel them. In fact Ave grew to absolutely loathe performing live. He wanted to do nothing but record. Too much work coming up with the costumes and concepts. There was this one show, where, he started the show dressed like an old woman in a neck brace, and several costume changes later ended up half naked and covered in ketchup in mustard. I told him to jettison the extraneous, but he just couldn't do it. One show, he spent several weeks making this giant pianata, which we were going to attach to this crash helmet which Ave was going to wear. He then spent a lot of his own money buying wiffle ball bats for the audience to beat him up with. Silly but it get us a nice little blurb in Michael Roberts's column in the WestWord
...Overall, the combos chosen for the showcase were also fine - although a number of them were no more than that. No complete washouts occured; throughout the day, the musicians in the spotlight knew how to play their instruments and proved energetic and accomplished. But only one combo - the Phlegmtones, whose wild, mayhem-filled set (which kicked off the Fest) was witnessed by perhaps 25 people - offered up something completely unexpected.
Michael Roberts, WestWord, Backbeat Feedback column, September 20-26,1995
--Yeah we met Michael Roberts after the show. It may sound cliche, but if there was one music critic who could make or break us in the one-horse town, it was Michael Roberts. We gave him our phone number, and he told us he wanted to do an article about us, but he may be contractually obligated to write something about this other band. But he promised to give us a call. Well, guess what? He didn't. Oh well... After a couple of years I finally got up the nerve to find out what happened. So I anonymously e-mailed him simply asking, "Have you heard of this local band called the Phlegmtones?" To which he replied:
jon--
i'm afraid all i can do is add to the confusion. i saw the phlegmtones play at a rocky mountain music association gig and thought they were really good (especially given the fact there were only about thirty people present when they performed). i got the number for one of the guys and said i'd give him a call, then i spaced out for a couple of months -- and by the time i'd followed up, they seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth. since then, i've heard the occasional rumor that they still exist, but have seen no actual confirmation of it. if you find out anything, please pass along the information to me -- i'd definitely be interested.
sorry i couldn't be of more assistance. good luck.
mr
--That's the problem with this story. It can only end one of two ways. Either we hit the big time or we break up for good. Well, I hate to give away too much - but this story really doesn't have an ending yet. Actually I never could quite see why we didn't become famous. We had talent. We had originality. (Of course it could be reasonable argued that these are actually impedements to making it in the record biz). But more importantly - we had an attractive front man. I don't know if I mentioned it before but Ave is an extremely handsome man. I'm not saying that I'm gay or anything - it's just that I could easily imagine Ave on the cover of like "Tiger Beat" and "16" and such. Very good looking and also very thin. Maybe 98 lbs. soaking wet. And he's about as tall as me (his pechant for wearing platform shoes makes him look even more elongated). But unlike most Americans, Ave wanted to gain weight. He hated being so skinny (his nickname at one point was Stick Boy). He used to buy Weight Gainer at GNC in bulk. Once I took him out to an all-you-can-eat buffet. He downed six whole heaping platefuls of food. And right outside he threw it all up. The boy just could not put on weight. Now given Ave's weight and energy and disconnected sense of reality, many people assumed that he was on drugs. Well, let me just clear up that one point. Ave does not use drugs. Ironically, he is highly against them. WHy exactly I don't know. Although our stage antics certainly seemed hallucinatory and drugged out.
--While it was quite a sight, I didn't see the point. He wanted to do whole shows wearing a paper bag over his head. He was always embarrassed. But with Aaron on drums, we became a whole hell of a lot better. Ave's songwriting which always depended on his not knowing how to play minor chords, a lot of chromatic runs and flatted fifths, became more complex. Ave's lyrics, which I never really understood, or cared about one way or the other, stayed the same. But he was writing stuff in 7/4 time and really blowing my mind. More and more I began to feel F. Murray Abraham in "Amadeus." I knew what I was doing. I worked on it very hard. I was serious. And yet I couldn't even touch the stuff this guy was writing. It became very frustrating. No longer was I McCartney to his Lennon - I was Garfunkel to his Simon. Messina to his Loggins. Andrew Ridgley to his George Michael. Dave Stewart to his Annie Lennox.
--This was also the height of our quote-unquote "Pearl Jams". There's this open air Mall in Boulder called Pearl Street, where they allow all the starving college students to come and busker for spare change. So we'd all grab acoustics (Aaron would take a hand drum or something) and head up. Well, we always stood out - for one thing we were one of the few bands there, everyone else was solo. Plus, even though these were generally dress-down affairs, Ave would still be a presence that's hard to take your eyes off of. We usually start out with everyone walking by quickly, trying not to look, and by the end we would have a huge old crowd (for a street corner). Sometimes, we'd do these to promote our real shows - we'd have pamphlets to hand out, which the audience would take and use to roll up joints. Right in front of us. Kinda disappointing. Still... It was that summer that Ave got this big idea. A vacation to help us bond. He was always talking about how we were loose, and how we needed to get "tight" musically. Personally, I think he was talking gibberish. Loose? Tight? What did that mean? Exact metronome time? Ugh. At this point I was listening to a lot of Tori Amos, whose live work was filled with pauses, rushes, build-ups and all sorts of "loose" music.
--But Ave wanted us to tighten up. Not just musically, but personally. We were all going to drive down to the Great Sand Dunes. Of course, the main reason we were going was because, well - Ave had become obsessed with making Super-8 films. What were supposed to be Practice sessions were often re-scheduled into film shoots. Now, I don't mind acting occasionally, if I know the director and he needs a hand, sure. But it's not something I really wanted to do. In fact, for something I never really wanted to, I've done a lot of it. But Ave... Well, anyway, we all packed into Ave's Mom's car (not a big car) - all four of us, plus two or three girlfriends, I don't remember whose. Definitely not mine. Well, Ave had been up all night working when we left at midnight. We arrived after about five hours of Ave driving the whole way. We goofed around for the camera about an hour or two, when Ave started getting sleepy. Well, since it was his Mom's car, no one else was really allowed to drive it, so we all hoped back in and five hours later arrived home. Not exactly the bonding experience Ave was hoping for.
--Ave really wanted to be a filmmaker. I had nothing against that as long as it didn't interfere with the band. So we both decided to take a playwriting class at the local community college (the screenwriting class had too many pre-requisites). Now, I was not looking forward to this. I had given up writing and now saw it as a distasteful waste of my time, but I knew Ave lacked motivation, and if I went with him, it might help. Ave's films were interesting but lack any sort of structure. So Ave went, but he didn't really like the class. I did all his homework for him. But still I figured he'd do the real work for himself. But then I ended up writing the play for him too (alright plagarising it for him). And the re-writing. He wasn't interested in learning by doing, and there really isn't much you can teach about that in lecture. Especially since he wasn't paying attention. However one night in class, one of the other students was describing this idea for a play he had. And it was a bad idea. But we were all supposed to comment on it. Everyone said something fairly innocuous. But Ave decided to show his displeasure through a rather abstract and yet non-hurtful way. He starting crying. Something about his brother going to jail. No one could tell exactly what he was saying between sobs. Class was dismissed for a five miunte break so Ave could get himself together. After he left the teacher turned to me to make sure that Ave was alright. I assured the best I could and then went out to find Ave. And when I did, he started laughing. Then I started laughing. And we were laughing and laughing and laughing. I thought for sure someone in the class would overhear us and our ocver would be blown. Now that was funny. What happened next was not.
--Well, it turns out the head of the department liked the play I wrote and agreed to put it on as a festival of one-acts. Now, I had given up being a writer, but still this was pretty exciting. I even ended up with a small part own play, just so I could watch the rehearsals. But when it opened, well, I had comps, and no one to give 'em to. I didn't know a single person to show my play to. So I gave 'em to Ave and Seth and Seth's girlfriend. They showed up late. But since mine was the last play of the evening, that was o.k. They sat in the front row with a blanket over their heads. And when my show started, Ave - used to the world of rock clubs where you whoop and holler to encourage the act, came off as heckling jack-ass. Well, the cast wanted to kill him, and I did too - but instead, I snuck out and told them to flee while they got the chance. Of course, they later found out that I was the one who brought them, and so no one else talked to me during the whole rest of the production. Nikki was the only one to apologize to me that night. Back to the band...
--I had written this little newsletter/pamphlet type of thing called "Idiot Stick" to try and promote the band. I was hoping to get people to sign up for a subscription and use that as out mailing list type of thing. Of course, only one issue got done, although I was certainly recognized for it. I did most of it being the only one in the band with literary aspirations. It also included a comic stirp my brother drew and some poems by Ave which aren't nearly half as entertaining on paper as they are LIVE. We also asked for submissions to use in further issues. Only one reply came. Although the poems themselves were rather shoddy, it also included our first (and so far only) fan letter ever:
Hey Phlegmtones
--Whats going on. My name is John. Avery may still remember me from your January performance at Squeaky Wilber's (the show was great.) I just wanted to write and say how great you guy's [sic] are. I also wanted to get a subscription to the Idiot Stick when ever you make one. if it's at all posible [sic] I would love a tape, CD, or what ever parifinalia [sic] you guy's [sic] could hook me up with I' appriciate [sic] whatever you could do. Avery also told me to send in some poetry for the Idiot Stick so hears [sic] a few I read at Black & Read.
--not exactly literate, but still flattering...
--My songs - namely the ones that I wrote and sang by myself - were not being played. Ave couldn't be bothered to learn them and I couldn't be bothered to teach him. It's o.k., they never worked out real well on stage anyway. Ave didn't know what to do with himself during them. Mostly Iplayed them when Ave needed a break. And recording was all being done at home on the four track. And rather than try and teach my arrangements, I trusted myself more, so they turned out to be little more band-oriented than the demos I was recording in Olympia. By necessity they were all fairly laid back and acoustic. No drums. Very little bass. Very amatuerish. But somehow I found it frustrating that MY songs were not getting as much band attention as Ave's far superior ones. I began to really resent Ave. Making me move back here. However...
--I began to know Aaron Wheeler a lot better. We had talked occasionally before, during school. But now he would call me up. We'd go hang out. Or sometimes we'd go over to Seth and Nikki's apartment. (Nikki was and still is Seth's girlfriend). We would have mouth jams in their sauna. (Mouth jams are a "Phish" thing apparently - everyone just improvises - only a cappella). Aaron understood my frustration with Ave. We would jam out long free-form style numbers whenever Ave wasn't there. It was a lot of fun. At one point he offered to take me with him to Chicago with him when he was going to see the Phish Halloween show. He didn't know anyone in Chicago. Didn't know where he was going to stay. A real adventure. I almost went with him, but I chickened out. I would always wonder what would have happened to our band if I had gone. Well, it turns out that while he was up there, he happened to meet this wonderful girl, fell in love and decided that he had to move out Chicago to be with her. I was upset... The band wasn't getting anywhere, and the only fun I was having was about to leave. So, I figured this was my last shot.
--I ponied up the dough for a recording session for my myself. I may never get another chance to play with Aaron again. My songs were never going to get done unless I did them. Of course, neither Seth or Aaron had seen any of these songs before, but I didn't care. I wrote the notes out for Seth - and even Aaron declined to play on one of them. And you don't even have to know what key it's in to play the drums. But here it was, my songs for the next album (which I kept talking about, but we would make no plans towards). Ave even showed up while we were recording the vocals and did some background singing. All acoustic, all me. It sounded well... pretty bad. But at least I got it done.
--Of course, a little over a week later, inspired partially by accordionist Rob's return home for Thanksgiving and partially strong-armed by me, Ave went into the studio and recorded a whole batch of his songs - including another version of "Psycho Clown" which he insisted I sing. We also recorded the somewhat straight forward rock song "Queen Of the Limbo Dance" (which I think Seth actually wrote the main riff for), the fascinating 7/4 "Fresh N' Lemony", "Painted Ladies Don't Dance", "Ten Big Men" on which Ave played a rare guitar solo, "I Hate Grapes" a funky number where everyone, even Aaron got to sing a verse, and the rather odd piano piece "Big Ass Trouble". My favorite of the night was "Ode to the Pedophile" an extremely rare ballad from Ave. It had a rather unique song structure. Instead of the usual verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge type of thing, it went simply from A to B to C to D back to C, B, A. Plus it featured one of Seth most accomplished and melodic bass lines. Fascinating. Ave always hated it. Seth thought it might be because he was uncomfortable because of the child abuser lyrical subject matter. I figured it had to do with the long Aaaaahs he had to sing in the intro and outro. Ave was still uncomfortable about his singing. Now, I had pretty much produced my session by myself, so when it came time to mix Ave's, I literally walked outside and waited in the car for a couple of hours. Of course I ended up paying for both of them, but that was ok. I still had money. And it was worth it. The tapes were wonderful. High quality. Good songs. Terrific stuff. I was psyched for our next album. It was going to be called "Jerk-O-Flux Love Capacitator". At one point we discussed putting all my songs on one side, and all of his on the other - but we ended up deciding it would sound better if we put them on in alphabetical order.
--We had just a few gigs left before Aaron went to Chicago. And one of them was at this underage poolhall called "Squeaky Wilburs". Well, it went o.k. at first. We were using our own equipment, and as usual, now matter how loud I cranked my guitar, no one could hear it. Well, I was getting a little frustrated, when, it cam time for my shot. Ave, still in full Kiss regalia, was going to jump off the stage and challenge various members of the audience to fooze-ball while I played two or three tunes from my half of the album. Well, needles to say, once Ave left, everyone else just sort of turned around and walked away. Neither Seth or Aaron felt confident enough in their knowledge of any of my tunes to play them live, and they chose this exact moment to tell me as such. So there I was alone. I tried to do it by myself. But I messed up. Screwed up. I sounded awful, and after a few minutes of embarrassing myself to no one, I had to plead with the rest of my band to rejoin me on stage. And it ended like that. Well, after it was over, we took our bows, and were still on stage loading equipment, when the other three started congratulating themselves. "Not a bad show really" etc., when they asked me how I thought it went. Well I just sort of exploded. And so Ave grabbed the mike and told the still cheering crowd that "My band just broke up! Yeah!" Well, that wasn't what I wanted at all. This was all I had in life. I had no friends. No other plans or dreams. No hobbies. No girlfriend. I had given up my education of this!?! I rushed over to Ave. "No No No, please at least just think about it".
--The next evening Ave cam home to apartment with one of his girlfriends (I never even knew the names of most of Ave's girlfriends - unlike say Nikki, who came to a lot of practices, was pretty friendly, and actually talked to me once and a while). Well, Ave says he thought about it, and he doesn't want to be a musician, but an artist. That was it. The end of the band. He then took his girlfriend to his room, leaving me sitting on the living room floor. I grabbed one of the wiffleball bats and started hitting myself over the head with it. I wanted Ave to come out and see what I was doing and say, "Oh, I didn't realize that it meant so much to you. Things'll go back to the way the were." But the bat didn't make enough noise, and I couldn't sit there forever. I knew what I had to do and I hated doing it. I scribbled a little note, "I want to die!" Emptied some bottle of pills into my hat, left the empty bottles in the sink, went to my room and waited. Sometime later, Ave came in all concerned. I told him not to worry, I didn't actually take the pills. He said he didn't he didn't mean it. The band was still here. As much as I hated doing it, it worked like a charm. But I had lost it. Whatever say I might have once had was gone. I knew Ave was going to do whatever he wanted eventually, so I might as well just shut up and agree. I felt like Esau selling out his birthright for a bowl of porridge.
--Aaron's last show with us was supposed to be this open-stage in Boulder at "Penny Lane". Yeah, all these years, and we were still playing open stages. In fact, we still hadn't been paid for playing yet (other then the change we made during our "Pearl Jams". Well, we packed up and - as always - were running late. So by the time we got there all the slots were filled. Luckily one of my friends was there and he had a an improv comedy troupe that had signed up, and they gave us their spot. I still feel bad about that one, but oh well... Of course, in setting up we realized we had forgotten a rather important part of Aaron's drum kit - the snare. Really you don't need all those toms and cymbals to make a drum set work, but the snare is rather important. We all soldiered on despite, but it was kind of a disappointing way to close this chapter.