A delightful photo of Bryan lounging poolside. It's 'The Life of Bryan!'

 
 


Act XX

The Sausage Factory, Part Two

Hold on a second--let me get off the phone here.

"Babe. Hey, babe. Listen up, babe...I'm SO busy writing The Life Of Bryan 1st Anniversary Special Act here, I just have to fly. You know I love you, babe, but I'm just starting the second part of The Sausage Factory here, babe...yeah, The Sausage Factory, that's right. It's gonna be big, I'm tellin' you. These people are gonna eat it up...I'm tellin' ya, babe, they're hooked and they want more! And when they hear about these new things we've got out, this video, what is it, 'Half Asleep In North Hollywood', or whatever it is, and that video, 'Pond Scum Retainer', bingo. Money in the fucking bank, baby! OK, babe, love ya, gotta go, we'll talk real soon, k? Ba-bye now."

Alright, that's enough of Bryan The Evil Wannabe Agent for now. Where were we? Oh yeah--Suzanne called me and played me a message from Keneally that mentioned something about BFD opening for Vai. The first thing I thought about was this: how would the drummer situation be handled? I'm really walking on eggshells now, but I'll try to be as honest with you as I can. You had Toss Panos, Keneally's first choice forever and drummer for the new releases, but he's always busy (Toss is in serious demand around Los Angeles), and isn't the kind of guy who'd usually do something on such short notice unless it was a big money deal. You had Joe Travers, who expressed his burning desire to do the next Keneally tour when we got back in town from our Spring mini-tour, and knew all of the material, but was still a member of the Zappa organization, which made things dicey. And then you had Frank Briggs, who toured with us in the Spring on only two weeks notice but still didn't know the entire Keneally repertoire. I'm glad that I don't have to make these decisions. In any event, Mike's first call went to Joe. That's where my first call went as well.

I asked Joe about it, and he was surprised that I knew. Apparently, I wasn't supposed to have known about this, because Mike didn't want to get my hopes up (Suzanne must have been unaware of Mike's wishes on this subject). Wasn't that sweet of him? But it was too late. Besides, any number of mundane things could've gotten my hopes up at that point, let alone a nationwide Keneally tour. Any ideas I had about trying not to get too excited about the possible tour were quickly dismissed when Joe told me that he wasn't going to do it, because I could feel my spirits sag. He had two good reasons; family plans in which money was spent on non-refundable plane tickets, and his continuing commitment to the Zappa organization, which he didn't want to risk by touring with an official Zappa "persona non grata". Joe's mind was made up, and no amount of discussion would change it. It was too short notice. And the kicker was, Joe couldn't even call Mike back to tell him. So now we had a situation in which Mike didn't know that I knew, Mike didn't know that Joe both knew and said no, and I didn't know until everyone else had already known. And the tour was still firmly in the hypothetical world. Talk about your bad games of telephone.

Making this whole deal even weirder were the e-mails I started receiving just days after the phone call with Suzanne. Apparently, Keneally had been telling folks on the road about the "strong possibility" of BFD opening for Vai when G3 was done. These people turned around and e-mailed me, wondering if I knew anything and when I was going to be in their neck of the woods. If Mike didn't want me to find out, that was an interesting way of going about it. I ended up telling these e-mailers that the tour was still in the "planning stages", an understatement if there ever was one.

I brought all of this information to my parents, and my father went into analytical mode (he's a lawyer by trade). Pretty soon it was a cross-examination. "What is your first priority? Writing or music? Making money? Would you quit your job? What happens when you get back? What's your strategy?" He was right. I needed to figure out what I would do if certain scenarios unfolded. We weighed my options on the phone for about an hour until I ended up admitting that, if this tour didn't work out, the writing was more important to me than the side gigs I was doing (which were consuming every minute of my post-day-job spare time). Thus, a strategy was born: If the tour didn't happen, I would keep the day job and cut back on the music until Keneally returned, thereby reducing my debt and leaving me more time to write. If it did happen, I needed to clear a certain amount of money in order to feel secure and responsible enough to quit a well-paying (for me, at least) and well-connected job that I'd just started about 72 hours ago (and possibly make my friend Lisa Valentine look bad in the process) . If the amount wasn't right, the irony of me saying no (and, in effect, killing the tour) would have been massive and hard to take. But it was the right thing to do for me at the time, and both me and my father knew it. The stakes were a lot higher now than they were back in April. Of course, all of this meant nothing without a drummer. God, am I the only one having deja vu here?

I kept waiting for Mike to call me, but it had been six days since Suzanne had played me his message over the phone (putting us at Friday, November 1st), and neither Suzanne nor I had communicated with him at all. I was starting to think that the whole thing wasn't working out. I spent that weekend in San Diego, hanging out with Martha Lawrence and Moosenet CEO Scott Chatfield, talking through the scenario over dinner. It was really good to get out of LA for the weekend; the commute to and from work was starting to make me hate this city.

When I got back into town on Sunday, Mike finally called me. I asked him if there was any confirmation on the tour, and he said no, but that he was working on it. He also admitted to me that he hadn't wanted me to find out so as not to get my hopes up, but I told him (after thanking him for the thought) that I had been forced to take a day job since the last time we had talked, and so the sooner I knew things the better. We lamented Joe's refusal to tour with us for a bit, and then he told me that he really wanted Toss to do the tour, that he was the guy on the recordings that had just been released, and that it would be a shame if Toss, the supposed "main" BFD drummer, wasn't on the road with us for two tours in a row. Then I somewhat reluctantly explained to him my financial situation, which he said he understood and would take into account. He agreed to call me just as soon as he knew what was up, and let me know that his next call was to Toss. Mine too.

I spoke with Toss later that Sunday, and his feelings were similar to mine. He wanted to do it, but only if the right deal came down the pike. Give Toss his due--he's been around for a long time and won't tolerate being fucked with business-wise (not like Keneally would fuck him over, but Mr. Panos has relayed to me many horror stories about getting screwed out of money for sessions, tours, gigs...you name it). He's a battle-hardened veteran of the life of a sideman/musician, and I could probably stand to learn a thing or two from him that would do me well in my future business endeavors. Basically, we agreed to call each other if we heard anything from either Keneally or Suzanne about what the deal might be. When I got off the phone, I broke out my calendar to see what my upcoming week looked like. Maybe I shouldn't have.

I had booked three gigs for the week of 11/4-10, and I'd need to attend rehearsals for each of them. That meant that, every single night, from Monday through Friday, I'd be pulling 16 hour days (basically, 8 AM to 12 midnight) consisting of work followed by either a rehearsal or a gig, plus another gig on Saturday the 11th. I had no way of knowing that I'd be working a 40-hour-a-week day job when I booked these gigs; if I had, I probably would have declined one. Don't get me wrong--they all paid money that I desperately needed, and I hate turning down a paying, musically worthwhile gig (which these all were), but I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't be bringing an automatic weapon to work with me by Thursday.

Monday went well enough until I got home that night. I figured I'd sit back, relax, and check my e-mail (which was piling up all throughout this time period--if it took me more time than usual to respond, now you know why). E-mail was a good way to remind myself that I was a musician and not a script delivery slave. To my horror, I had at least six e-mails sitting in my inbox all saying nearly the exact same thing: "Hey, I just read over at Moosenet about you guys opening up for Vai! Congratulations! And, by the way, what a cool G3 review that was!" Uh, WHAT?! WHERE at Moosenet did it say that? I hooked into The Earthlink Network, clicked on Keneally's bookmark, and saw for myself. I couldn't believe it.

SCOTT BAKER'S OVERVIEW OF HALLOWEEN '96 WITH MIKE KENEALLY / G3 AT THE PALACE, AUBURN HILLS, MI.

Now you know why I didn't spend a lot of time with G3 reviews in this Act. The CEO took one of his employee's ideas and ran with it. Maybe we are just another white-collar corporation after all. Oh well. The Halloween '96 reference made me remember that, at one point, we had planned to be in Burlington, VT on Halloween, playing an entire Phish album for kicks, in the middle of what was going to be a Fall/Winter BFD Tour. Remember that? Anyway, I clicked on the G3 review and speed-read until I found the magic paragraph.

"Also, Mike was asked by Steve to have Beer For Dolphins open some shows (maybe all American gigs), after the G3 tour runs its course. Vai will be hitting places that the G3 shows missed, doing the FULL Vai show. But as Mike stresses on his page, Everything In The World Is Tentative!"

Even with the standard disclaimer, it was premature. Very premature. If it didn't happen, there would be folks out there who would want to know why. I wasn't looking forward to possibly having to explain how my pathetic financial condition was part of the reason why BFD couldn't open for Vai on a nationwide tour. Hence the forthrightness about a subject that I wouldn't normally discuss on this here page. Now you know. Had I been forced to decline, this Act could well have been five pages of nothing but walking on eggshells. I wouldn't have known what to say. What I wanted to know was, why would our CEO print such incomplete information about a subject that he knew was a touchy thing (remember, we had talked about it over dinner that previous weekend). Uh, Mr. Chatfield...

Scott Chatfield is a busy guy. He's such a busy guy that his license plate says "BUSY GUY". He got the review from Scott Baker (who wrote a damn good review, let's not forget that), converted it to HTML, and just went ahead and uploaded it without reading it too carefully. When I told him about the magic paragraph, he said, "Really? That's in there?" Yep. "Oops." We discussed over the phone what should be done about it, and we quickly settled on nothing. Barring some extreme extenuating circumstances (and with the obvious exception of incorrect tour dates), a Moosenet policy was born: Once it goes up, it stays up. Anything less would be, as he put it, "weenie-like." I agreed. Besides, Mike would probably be calling anyday now, right?

Wrong. Tuesday...Wednesday...Thursday...Friday...this was fucking "Anti-Cipa-Tion" all over again. As the week went on, and my mind and body grew exhausted to the point of mutiny (for some reason, I couldn't get to sleep before 2:30 AM, no matter how tired I was), I realized just how much I've learned this year about how I need to run my life in order to stay sane. I got a kick out of doing the steady job thing for a little while, but it was destroying my capability to be human when I wasn't there. I had to keep all of my options open (as in not dropping any gigs) until I found out exactly what the hell was going on with the possible Keneally tour. Then I could take action. I'm a control freak; I could hardly bear the helplessness, which reminded me of why I loved writing. I was getting tired of feeling powerless, and as the week dragged on, the crankier I got, and the stronger I felt about wanting to have a little more control over my own destiny.

But a Keneally tour, nationwide...wasn't that the goal all along? If this thing went down over money, The Year Of The Dolphin would come to a most ignominious end. Still, reality beckoned; Immune Records, however scrappy, only had so much to give...the Vai organization, barely in the black on any tour, would only give so much...Keneally could help, but not alone...and I was destitute and Toss had just invested a lot of money into his own jazz project, Waternoise. No one here was getting something for nothing, but everyone wanted it to work. Welcome to the wonderful world of negotiations. This was The Sausage Factory.

Meanwhile, the e-mail was flying in, both about the "upcoming Keneally tour" and the new releases, "Half Alive In Hollywood" (CD) and "Soap Scum Remover" (VHS). I don't want to get too emotional with y'all here, but you folks really carried me through what was a long, rough week. Lots of very nice and sincere praise was heaped upon me by the readers of The Life Of Bryan, and I just want to say, with all of my heart, thank you. Believe you me, when I'd get home from ICM, wearing my silly Ross Dress For Less outfits, my ego needed to be stroked. I can admit that to you now. Are we becoming codependent? Or is it just my issue? Anyway, thanks a lot--I'm glad you enjoy the new music, which I'll discuss some more later in this broadcast. As far as people's e-mail about the tour, by Thursday I was starting to think that, since Keneally hadn't called, it was in the toilet. I was writing to folks (and maybe even you) that I figured the chances of it actually happening were about 40/60.

By Friday, I was officially depressed. Work was kicking my ass and I was dizzy in the stairwells of ICM. It had been almost a week since I'd heard from either Toss or Mike, and I was sick of thinking about it. Maybe a call to my father would help me put things in perspective. During a break at work, I sat down in the Xerox room, with the machines whirring in the background, and rang up The Executive Producer himself. He could hear, like any parent could hear in their child's voice, that all was not well. I explained to him what was going on, and I guess you could say that I was fishing for a little sympathy (hey, what are parents for, right?). The response what not what I'd hoped for.

He lost his temper, first angrily explaining that this was a matter of priorities, of me not being in control, and that I'd put myself in this position and had been here before. When I protested that I was planning on regaining control just as soon as I knew what was going on, he put together a string of four-letter words that don't often come out of my father's mouth, mixed in with a "hanging you out to dry" phrase somewhere in there for good measure. I know he was upset because he loves me and he hates seeing me get hurt, but that didn't make it any easier to listen to. While Robert Beller let me know how he felt about all of this, another Xerox room buddy of mine answered another line, put the caller on hold, and wrote one word on a small yellow stick-it pad and showed it to me. It read, "TOSS". I tried to interrupt my father, but he was screaming so loud that he couldn't hear me. I ended up practically hanging up on him just so I could answer the other line. Toss was no picnic to hear from either. "Man, I haven't heard from Keneally yet and I don't know what's going on. I got my own shit that I'm gonna have to cancel...I need to know like yesterday...I don't know, I don't think that this is gonna work out." I did my best to calm down and tell him that Keneally was coming home this weekend anyway, and that we could all talk in a matter of hours. Keeping my composure for the rest of "Happy Friday" was difficult--even the cakes scattered about the office didn't help. When I finally got into my car to fight the Friday traffic to get home, I simply lost it and started banging my right fist against the passenger seat, flailing away until I had no more energy left. I must have hit the thing about 20 times.

Finally, on that Friday night, Keneally called me from backstage in Seattle, I think. Of course I was out, but the message he left me was filled with good news; he informed me that an offer was on the table, and that it was really close to what was necessary to make it happen. I was shocked. He also said that he'd be getting home at around 12:00 AM Saturday night (11/9). I called Toss, who still needed to work out some details with Mike, and let him know. Toss said that he'd be home all day Saturday. Again, I tried to be, as they say in the White House, cautiously optimistic.

Saturday, November 9. Keneally called me from Lido, CA (the Vai bus was working its way down the coast). We spoke for about five minutes, mostly business. He said that he would've called earlier had he known anything concrete. I was optimistic, but I didn't want to say anything until Toss did. We're in the guts of The Sausage Factory now--it's very hard to look at, really disgusting financial stuff. You don't want to know, trust me. Just wait for the finished sausages. I told Mike that Toss would be home all day, just like he told me he would. So Keneally calls him and he's not fucking home. Keneally calls me back, telling me that the bus is leaving without him and now he'll have to run after it and hope that it stops and waits for him. Toss calls me five minutes later, saying, "Hey, man, I was just out walking my dog. What happened? Keneally called me? Fuck." It would have to wait one more day.

Sunday, November 10. At around 12:30 PM, me, Keneally and Toss begin a telephone round robin that lasts about 45 minutes. Mostly details, making sure that certain things were going to be certain ways (in other words, no big, broken-down, smoke-spewing Rent-A-Wreck vans of death to get us from Boulder to Ft. Worth) and the like. The last of these phone calls was from Mike to me, basically saying that Toss had agreed to a new, last-minute proposal. When I heard what it was, I agreed to it as well. The tour was on. And I'll be the first to tell you that Keneally went the extra mile to make sure that it happened. Let's just leave it at that.

After I got off of the phone, my first reaction wasn't euphoria, or even relief. The whole thing was delayed, staggered. As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember thinking to myself just moments after the final confirmation was received, "Man. I could've been on the road with Gary Hoey right now." Do things happen for a reason? You tell me.

I know that this wasn't an entirely pleasant story. Lots of "woe is me" crap for 13 pages, and then, just... "The tour was on"? But that's the way it went, my friends. And, in the days since the 10th of November, with each passing hour, I can feel this massive wave of satisfaction and happiness washing over me. Some of the other wonderful moments in my professional life hit me instantly, like running into a brick wall whose impact inexplicably felt like the best blow job you've ever had in your life {women, if there are any out there, insert your own instantaneous sexual fantasy here}. But this triumph was more like a long, sweet kiss. It lasted for days, gathering momentum, becoming more intense. Now I'm feeling that sense of euphoria. Maybe that was the meaning of all of this...to experience some shit for a change in this charmed life of mine so that I could truly appreciate how fucking incredible this is going to be (ask me how incredible I feel when we pull into Buffalo, NY in the second week of December). It's hard to believe that, in January, I was still a member of the band Z. What a fucking year this has been.

And so, The Sausage Factory cranks out a plump, juicy link that we can all be proud of. All of the ugly, weird-looking meats and seasonings that went into the making of it (some of which were too gross to show you) have combined, along with some prime casing, to make one great-tasting meat product. We'll all be feasting together across the country over the next five weeks. Hope you can join us...we've got plenty of meat to go around.

OK, I promise. No more sausage analogies. Let's talk about the fallout from all of this for a second. My last day at ICM was Wednesday, November 13. Lisa Valentine was happy for me, as were my new buddies in the "duplication" department ("dupe", in office-speak). They said that I could come back at any time. I don't know, I'll have to think about that one. That very same night, Wednesday night, Beer For Dolphins convened at Toss Panos' house for the first time since March and held its one and only rehearsal for the entire tour. It was magic. We were all giddy. There were plenty of moments where we were just looking at each other, grinning like idiots. Words cannot describe how happy I am to be playing this music again.

As far as my book is concerned, that'll just have to be put on hold for a bit. Even if I had a laptop, I couldn't write for my book on a tour like this (have you seen the itinerary over at the MK page? Holy Mary!). Don't you worry, I'll finish it one day. That is, if I ever finish this. I'll be taking my notepad on tour with me for another "Quotes Of The Tour" and "Best/Worst Of The Tour" Act, but that probably won't be coming around until mid-January, by which time hopefully you'll be done reading this one.

And, I'm happy to report, subsequent phone calls with The Executive Producers were happy ones indeed. My parents are the coolest fucking people on earth.

I think I mentioned about ten pages ago that Mike Keneally told me that The Life Of Bryan was a topic of conversation on the Steve Vai tour bus, and that I'd eventually discuss with you that interesting bit of news. I want to try and make it clear to you, the totally awesome love-deserving readers of the LOB, what this page is all about, if you'll indulge me for just one second. This page has several purposes. One is to entertain you with my witty prose {gag...aaaacchhppt}. Another one is to keep you updated on the latest information concerning Mike Keneally and Beer For Dolphins, and since Mike is often too busy to write, I'm more than happy to oblige. But, more than that, if I had my wish, I'd like this page to be a look inside the "music business" from an even level. Not an "artist" talking to his or her "fans", but more like a conversation that you'd have with a friend. Keneally does this rather effortlessly, and I kind of jumped on the bandwagon a little bit with this concept (also originated by Scott Chatfield, I musn't forget). But, in order to achieve that kind of goal, I have to be human. Being human means occasionally being critical, elated, angry, happy, sarcastic, and everything in between. This is where the eggshells come in.

Why am I going on and on about The Meaning Of The Life Of Bryan? Because, while I want to be as honest as I can about how I feel at any given moment, the internet is making our world a smaller place every single second. Witness Phil Bynoe's girlfriend e-mailing me out of the blue. As much as I wanted the Vai gig, it wouldn't have done me much good to really get off on some kind of "Phil is bad" trip. That shit comes back at you and isn't good for anyone. I do this for fun. Even the painful "Anti-Cipa-Tion" story was somewhat fun to write. I'm not saying that this page is about to become homogenized and castrated of any colorful opinions that I might or might not want to express--I stand by everything I've written up here (unless I'm notified by someone at a later date that something was factually inaccurate), and once it goes up, it stays up. I just want you to know that I do this for fun. FOR FUN! YEE-HAW!!! Can we all stand another year of fun? I hope so. Life is way too fucking short to be taken too seriously. Just reminding myself as well as you.

Almost done, I promise. First, in the spirit of the above paragraphs, an Act 19 correction. Rich Lewis DID NOT have a video camera at the Steve Vai record release party at The Hard Rock Cafe. Almost got Mr. Lewis in a bit of trouble there...sorry about that.

Back to Phil Bynoe for a second. This guy must feel like I'm haunting him or something. An old Berklee College Of Music buddy of mine, Marc Ziegenhagen (second keys on Zappa's Universe, for you freaks out there), went to the G3 show in Minneapolis. Someohw he got backstage and, after hanging with Keneally for a bit, he ran into Phil. According to Marc, when he told Mr. Bynoe that he knew me, Phil's response was: "Oh no! Not another Bryan Beller fan!" What have you people done to this man? Anyway, Marc says that, after that, they went on to have a lovely conversation. Now, to me, that's fucking funny.

It was perhaps only fitting that the new BFD-Live CD and Video came out this last week. (Speaking of the Video, you should check out Todd Dever's "Soap Scum Remover" page that he so graciously donated to Moosenet. If you didn't already know, he's the man who basically put the video together. He deserves massive props.) "Half Alive" is the first whole album I've recorded outside of the Z material (which, let's be honest, not many people own), and I'm more proud of it than anything I've ever done in my 11 years playing music, period. I know I said that I'd talk about these new releases, but I'm exhausted and I have to start packing. Digest them slowly and we'll talk about them when I get back. Some people have already said some truly flattering things to me about them...just remember, without Keneally's material, I'm just another bassist. But, aside from that humble disclaimer, thanks a million times over.

So, let's overview The Year Of The Dolphin for a second. We leave Z in January, tour in April and May, take a month off, Mike joins Vai's band in August, Mike tours with G3, BFD releases a new CD and Video and opens for Vai nationwide in November and December. You know, you could say that maybe Mike planned this all along. I agree that there might have been a plan, but I'm not sure that it was Mike's. I can't remember who said this (some famous literary guy), but it's worth mentioning at this moment: God does not play dice. Or, put another way...there are no coincidences.

OK, that's it! You made it! Take your plates to the sink, wipe off the sausage grease, grab your limited edition 1st anniversary Life Of Bryan Medallion on the way out, and have a wonderful, happy, joyous holiday season. I won't be back until after Christmas--I'm requesting but not demanding an e-mail moratorium while I'm gone. Use your own judgment.

(Beware...Act 1 conceptual continuity alert...)

Today is Friday, November 15, 1996. Throughout the next month, we'll shock the citizens of The United States of America by touring there yet again. Hopefully, like our last tour back in April, they'll love us forever. And for sharing this year-long voyage with me, I love you all forever.

But this time, I'm packing the red dress. See you out there.

Love and kisses,

The Bassboy Number Sixty-Nine



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