But . . .

. . . that was yesterday . . . 

Finally, a 'club' that required exactly the musical product we, 'Ful Treatment,' were offering.  It was a relatively roomy, oblong configuration with a large rectangular bar that encircled the tending staff, located at one end with a dance floor to the side and a stage at the far end of that. It was located in an industrial area to the south of the city, in close proximity to the docks, business of which brought many merchant marine and an assortment of blue-collar clientele for some weekend reverie. In fact, we frequently, unfairly generalizing, joked about the patrons' general lack of teeth and violent tendencies.  Let's face it though, large amounts of quickly consumed alcohol frequently result in less-than-gentlemanly behavior in humans, irrespective of type of employment or socioeconomic level. . . Our bigotry was not based entirely in fiction though.  One particularly well-lubricated Friday night crowd included two, physically imposing females, complete with the teased, bouffant hairdo, each with a personalized version of a blond-streak adornment.  Someone in the crowd was heard to refer to these ladies as 'skunk-heads', referring to the aforementioned blond coloring. As the evening progressed, it became obvious to us that night that the 'skunk-heads' had become enamored with several male members of the crowd.  It became more obvious still later, that there was some discontent among the party of ladies and their newly-found, romantic interests.  Eventually a real, true-to-life bar brawl erupted as a result of the developing sexual tension (or was it friction?)  When the fists began flying, one of the involved merchant marines picked up a chair from a table adjoining the dance floor, and broke it over the head of his antagonist, sending a wooden chair leg hurling meteor-like onto the bandstand.  It seemed as though the frame froze at that point, all sound ceased, and we all stared toward the crowd, mouths agape in astonishment for what seemed to be a short eternity, but ended with Greg (our saxman/vocalist) picking up the disconnected furniture appendage, waving it in the direction of the audience saying something to the effect that he dared anyone to 'try anything NOW!' . . .

Bb Blues
live recording of Ful Treatment apprx 1977

What do you think?
Tell me at
http://www.rayjozwiak.com/guestbook.html  or at
http://www.ohomusic.com 

My latest solo offering, No Frills, is now available at - No Frills

(To Access all Ray Jozwiak - Gonzo Piano music you can copy-and-paste this URL directly to
your browser:  http://http://www.cdbaby.com/Artist/RayJozwiak)

Get your copy of OHO's  Where Words Do Not Reach now!
The Ocean City Ditty Video is now on YouTube
Also, be sure to visit: www.rayjozwiak.com and www.ohomusic.com

Tweet  

Never Pleasant . . .

. . . to hear of an untimely death. . .

(from wikipedia.com)
The New York Times described (Philip Seymour) Hoffman as "a stocky, often sleepy-looking man with blond, generally uncombed hair who favored the rumpled clothes more associated with an out-of-work actor than a star." Hoffman "frequently dyed his hair and lost or gained weight for parts" and "was known for a sometimes painful dedication to his craft." In a 2006 interview with 60 Minutes, Hoffman revealed that he had suffered from drug and alcohol abuse after graduating from college, and went to rehab for drug and alcohol addiction, recovering at age 22. He said he had abused "anything I could get my hands on. I liked it all." Hoffman relapsed over 20 years later, checking into a rehabilitation program for about 10 days in May 2013 because of problems with prescription pills and heroin.

On February 2, 2014, Hoffman was found dead by his friend, playwright David Bar Katz, in the bathroom of Hoffman's West Village, Manhattan office apartment. According to the New York City Police Department, the death appeared to be drug-related.

What do you think?
Tell me at
http://www.rayjozwiak.com/guestbook.html

My latest release, Black & White Then Back,
can be downloaded digitally at:

(or you can copy-and-paste this URL directly to
your browser:  http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/rayjozwiak3)

Also, be sure to visit:
http://www.rayjozwiak.com

Tweet

Ah, the aroma. . .

. . . of the whiskey sour fountain, the processed roast beef, the gargantuan plastic bowls of potato chips and pretzels, draft National Boh (or Pabst Blue Ribbon) and finally the Pièce de résistance, the sloe gin fizz. Yes, the sloe gin fizz; that bright red, sweet, satisfying concoction with a kick; at least for an adolescent. Yes, gloriously my entry into the world of 'professional' music was accompanied by an introduction to alcohol. (I am reminded of the Barenaked Ladies song, ALCOHOL.) In those days, the local, legal drinking age was 18, which I was not quite yet, and the practice of requiring ID before serving alcohol was not widespread and certainly not commonplace inside the doors of catering halls. Not that I was inebriated every time we played, though I may have, on occasion, consumed enough to mildly affect my performance abilities. But that was rare.

The band, now know as REFLECTION, was the 'house' band at the Harbor Inn. This meant that when the firm contracted for a wedding reception, bull roast, dance or bar mitzvah (the Jewish population had mostly abandoned East Baltimore for the Pikesville area by then), management offered the services of the fine young combo REFLECTION for music at the affair. This meant relatively regular work for the band and as a byproduct of that, an opportunity to refine our performance. In addition to the Harbor Inn, we were able to accept work at other, similar venues which meant I was actually earning money; earning money for doing something that I loved. It doesn't get much better than that. . . or DOES IT?




download your
very own copy of
ANOTHER SHOT
by Ray Jozwiak

Please Visit
http://www.rayjozwiak.com


Tweet