Well, I played with Crunk Whitey again this weekend. We weren’t great but we didn’t suck either. I know that in my two part series “the rise…” and “… and the fall of Crunk Whitey” I claimed to have quit the band. And the truth is, I did. I have no idea how I got suckered into playing this gig, but there I was Saturday night, sticks in hand, playing 7 songs with my boys and having a great time. Well not really.
Let’s back up a bit.
About a month ago, Carol and I celebrated our 5 year wedding anniversary with a day at Hidden Lake Winery in Aviston, IL. We invited a bunch of friends and family and had a great time. Among the guests (actually, the first one there) was our friend Amber. We hadn’t seen Amber in a while so we got to catching up and chatting over glasses of wine. As the day went on and more guests showed up, more wine was consumed and people started getting a little looser with their talk. Apparently, during the course of this loose talk, it was brought up to Chris and/or Dan that Crunk Whitey should make an appearance at Amber and our other friend Angie’s upcoming dual 30th birthday celebration.
Now, having quit the band months prior, I had no say in whether Crunk Whitey accepted the gig or not. If they accepted it and wanted to play, that’s great. I would love to see them play from the other side of the stage. The problem came when I was consulted about this and chose to be Aretha Franklin in the backseat of a hot car on a warm summer’s day (Snickers commercial reference). Having quit the band and knowing how they DESPERATELY needed my guidance and skills, I made the claim that I would play the gig (even though I should have held out for a separate dressing trailer and a cash advance of about $5k) but only if something as silly as practice didn’t get in the way. I was willing to take the glory of the gig, but not willing to put any effort into it whatsoever. I can be such a jackass sometimes it’s not even funny.
Oddly enough, we all agreed to this stipulation and were set up to perform a 7 song set which we decided immediately would be the six songs on our album “Membrane” (not available on iTunes) and a cover of CCR’s Fortunate Son. We knew the songs like the backs of our hands and if we sat down once or twice to practice by ourselves prior to the gig, we knew we’d be okay.
About two weeks after the winery party and about two weeks prior to the birthday bash, I figured that I’d better do some rehearsing. I hadn’t really sat down with my drums since January of 2009 which was when we played our last gig at the Crunk Whitey Reunion/Farewell Tour show. I knew I hadn’t played in that long because as I went downstairs to take inventory of my equipment, I remembered that I had broken one of my drumsticks on our last song that night and had since failed to replace it. So, the following Saturday, I took Ben with me to Guitar Center and bought a couple pairs of drum sticks. Considering that was the closest I’d come to actually drumming in almost a year and a half, I counted it an accomplishment and didn’t even take the sticks into the basement for another 4-5 days. Obviously, I was committed to putting on a good show.
When I finally found time to rehearse our set, I grabbed my iPod, found my new sticks, went down to the basement, found our album on my playlist, pressed play, and I went to town. The problem with playing my drums along with my iPod is that the volume on it can only go so high. As anyone that has ever heard me play the drums before, they know I only have one volume - loud. After all, I figure that if I’m the strongest part of the band, I should definitely make sure that my instrument is heard above all others to camouflage their mistakes. Anyway, when I’m playing along with my iPod I can only hear certain parts of the songs to know that I’m where I’m supposed to be. Now, obviously something was wrong with my iPod that day because every time I was able to hear one of those parts, its timing was off. I’m not sure if the battery was low or if the high volume was putting extra strain on the playing mechanism, but it kept slowing down and speeding up to the point where I couldn’t play anymore. It’s as if it had no rhythm whatsoever. To add to that annoyance, I had developed a blister on my finger which had ruptured and was now nothing but raw skin rubbing on my wooden drumstick. So, after playing for only about 8 minutes, I was done.
I was gonna nail this
After giving my blister about two weeks to heal (I didn’t want to rush it and put my entire drumming career in jeopardy), I was now just a few days out from the show. I found time one evening to briefly go downstairs and play the basic riffs of each song, but only played for about 3-4 minutes before remembering how awesome I was and knowing that any additional practice would be unnecessary. I just hoped that the rest of the band was practicing their asses off because they’d need to just to be able to keep up with me and my thunder sticks. I was ready for the show.
Once Saturday arrived, I woke up about 9:00, cleaned house, watched the first half of the US’s losing effort to Ghana in the World Cup, drove Ben out to my sister Melissa’s house, came home, and had some lunch. We were going to set up at the Eagle’s Hall about 5:30, but I wanted to get out there first so that I could advise the band on what I wanted them to do and where to do it at. I began tearing down my drums and packing them in my car about 4:30 and was done fifteen very hot and sweaty minutes later. Rather than wait around, I decided to leave and ended up getting to the Eagle’s Hall around 5:00. Perfect. As the various band mates of the group that I was now a special guest and featured performer of showed up, I quickly instructed them as to where to put their gear and how to set everything up. Being the professional that I am I was mostly set up by the time the others arrived, so I had ample time to deliver instructions on how I knew the night should go.
Once we were all set up I began to get a little pissed because not one of the guys had thanked me for coming out of retirement to help them put the show on tonight. As I mentioned before though, I’m a professional and was not about to start an argument 3 hours before we performed. As a result, I kept my mouth shut and we decided to run through three of our songs just to warm up and to check our levels (for the layperson, that means checking how we sound).
After the three songs (still without a thank you), we realized that it was going to be a HOT show – both literally and figuratively. Hot literally because it was close to 100 degrees outside and the heat was slowly creeping inside, and hot figuratively because I was on freaking fire and they were gladly following my lead.
After the warm up that I was kind enough to join them for (let’s face it, I didn’t need the practice), I left to go pick up Carol and grab a bite to eat before the party. After running into countless unexpected people (yet oddly no reporters from the local, national, or foreign press), we ate our dinner, had a few drinks, and made our way back to the party. It was showtime.
On our arrival, however, I was once again a little disappointed by the lack of pomp and circumstance that my guest appearance with Crunk Whitey was receiving. Not only was there no mention whatsoever on the marquee outside, but once I got inside the only sign I saw was a banner that read “Happy 30th Amber and Angie”. WTF? As if in the grand scheme of things this party was actually about them… I quickly realized that due to the magnitude of this occasion, they were probably waiting for a bigger moment to make a more formal presentation. I kept my head high, grabbed a beer, and started socializing.
Around 9:00, the DJ said that after the cutting of the cake, Crunk Whitey would be performing. This was news to me. First off, shouldn’t he have said Crunk Whitey and a special guest appearance by Scott Hopfinger? I mean, I’m not really even in the band anymore. I was there as a favor. Secondly, when I was in the band, we had a strict regiment before each show of taking a shot of warm vodka and chasing it with Stag. But where was the Stag? Sure, they provided free beer all night, but shouldn’t they have asked “the talent” if we had any special demands? Surely I would have required that there be Stag present not only for the pregame ritual but also for my/our drinking pleasure for the remainder of the night. Instead, we were drinking Bud Lite. Plus, we didn’t even get our green M&Ms! I’m not sure what kind of Podunk Rodeo they were throwing here, but this was ridiculous.
When I damn well felt like it, I grabbed a pitcher of beer (that’s right, not a glass – a pitcher), we did our shot, and make our way to the stage. At that point we knew what songs we were going to play but hadn’t really discussed the order. Obviously, I knew in my head what it was going to be, but had yet to verbalize it to the others. Luckily, Dan had the same idea as to the order so when he mentioned it, I had no reason to correct him. I thought of changing it up a little bit just to show that I was the pack leader, but I didn’t want to upset them before the big lifetime achievement type celebration they no doubt had planned for me. As a result, I let it slide.
As we played our first song (a ballad entitled “Gravity”) I looked around at my former band mates and realized two things. 1) I’m so much better than they are, and 2) I sure missed playing with these guys. When we moved into the 2nd and 3rd songs (“Monkeyburst” and “Put the Kids Away”), we brought out the fire and skill that only Crunk Whitey can bring. In fact, we were so awesome that half of the party either left or went outside just to make room for our awesomeness. We were that powerful.
The only hiccup of the show occurred during our second to last song. The song is entitled “IV” and is one of the first songs we wrote. I had just gotten my own drum kit (that’s what you laypeople call a drum “set”), and had a double bass peddle with it. The song basically calls for me to use the double bass pedal the entire way through it, so about a quarter of the way through the song when the hammer slipped on the left pedal and I was left with only the right one, I grew slightly concerned. Luckily, my skills are quite honed and the solution came to my brain before I even really realized the nature of the problem. I would begin explaining it to you, but you probably wouldn’t understand. Just know that I abandoned the left hammer altogether and did double time with my right foot. No, it’s not an easy transition - especially in the middle of a song – but except for the two or three notes between the factory defect which obviously caused the problem and my brilliant adjustment, I pulled it off flawlessly and none of the 18 people left in the hall were aware of what had happened.
As we were playing the final notes of our last song (“Fortunate Son”), I began preparing myself emotionally for the inevitable “thank you Scott for coming back to us for this one glorious night. We truly treasure you as a drummer, a friend, and a mentor. As a token of our esteem, we have bought you a new Corvette. It’s parked outside and we want you to know that we are truly honored to have been a part of this evening, and this life, with you” speech. As the song ended, I broke into one my infamous drum solos to close the show with a bang. But, as soon as we were done, there was no presentation. In fact, it wasn’t two seconds after we hit the last note that the DJ started up again. There was no applause. No presentation. Not even a “thanks Scott” from any of the Crunk Whitey guys. This was bullshit.
I figured that surely as I made my way across the hall to give Carol her aftershow kiss (she loves that she’s married to a rock star and likes to flaunt it whenever she can), I would definitely be bombarded with a “great show” and a “great to have you back” from random people, but I got nothing. I wandered around the party for the rest of the evening with beer in hand feeling sorry for everyone. Obviously, they didn’t know how to handle being in the presence of greatness.
As a result, I have decided that not only am I too big for Crunk Whitey, I’m too big for the Belleville area. None of them know how to show appreciation for the things that I do and the tireless effort I put forth into preparing for a show. I am now officially retired - again.
I would like to thank Amber and Angie who both personally thanked me for playing, however I still have not received any type of gift card or cash for my efforts. If you paid the band, just let me know and I’ll collect my 60% from them. I need to have a little chat with them anyway regarding proper recognition and public decency. Thankless bastards. Good luck finding another drummer with rhythm and skills like mine.
Thanks for reading
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