Forrestt Williams dot com

I walked into Boo Boo records today, for a lack of something better to do, cause I can always discover new music and waste countless hours keeping up with all the new releases. I went over to the new release listening booth, which is usually full of a broad range of cds, all genres and styles, mainstream and indie, but all national releases. I think it’s a national service that boo boo’s subscribes to, cause I’ve seen the same displays in many stores around America. So I make the rounds, checking everything out, trying to catch a listen of everything that catches my eye. I’ve discovered some great stuff from this are before. I scan my eyes along the first of four sections and put my ears on everything from the Gorrillaz to Regina Spektor. I eventually make it to the last section and did a quick double take.

Are my eyes deceiving me? It’s the Crosby Loggins slabum that I played bass on! What a nice surprise. I’ve never expected to listen to my own bass lines on these displays. They’ve always been relegated to the ‘big boys’ and major label players. It made me feel pretty good, to be honest.

I looked around. Just as I suspected, no one noticed that I was listening to myself at the listening station. Good, that would have been kind of weird.

The album sounded great through the headphones. Jesse Seibenberg and Jason Mariani really worked some magic with the sonic spectrum on this disc, real crisp highs, lots of presence, tight low ends, a real modern sounding mix.

People always ask me what that group is up to. I always just say that Croz is on an acoustic tour through next year, and then we’ll be hittin it again. I haven’t talked to him in a while, but I hear he’s kicking ass and taking names on the road opening for Joe Bonamasa.

If you get a chance, cop a listen on iTunes:

Our hero pulls into the run-down town of Fresno with all his gear in tow. ‘Great place for a gig’ he thinks. He’s been a little bit jaded as of late, too many crappy gigs for too little pay. But he rolls with the punches and moves on.

Upon finding the place he can’t believe his eyes. Its a brown and grey desolate neighborhood. Homeless people walking like zombies through the streets. Some sort of 3-block-large food processing plant across the street. ‘At least the club looks decent from the street,’ he thinks.

Recognizing another musician’s car out front, he knows he found the right place. Parking, and locking every door twice, he steps out. A gust of dirt-carrying wind hits him in the face and he recognizes the smell. It’s like a cross between a dairy, a meth-amphetamines laboratory, and dirty socks. Ahhh, the smell of Fresno.

He knocks on the door and looks around him. It appears there is a drug deal going down at the end of the street. The woman, hair nappy and clothes disheveled, walking towards the man on the left side of the street. The man, with loafers and a flannel shirt, is walking from the opposite direction on the right hand side of the street. They both do the old ‘look both ways before you cross the street to buy some crack’ head turn and meet in the middle of the road. A quick transaction, so subtle it’s as if they have been practicing slight of hand with famous magicians. They scatter.

Enthralled in this, he doesn’t notice the door opening in front of him. Our hero turns around and instantly gasps a little bit, caught off guard and unsure of how to act or what to do.

The fellow at the door is an older gentleman with a pronounced hunchback and some sort of disease that makes large, round face growths happen all over his head. When he talks, his head shakes a bit and all the skin sacks on his head wiggle around in a hypnotic fashion.

“Welcome to my club!”

Ahhh, Fresno.

Epilogue

The owner was a great guy, I was just caught off guard, you know? He can brew a mean beer too! The gig goes surprisingly well. The place filled up and it turns out we have our first fan club/street team people ever, and they all live in Godforsaken Fresno. Which means Crosby Loggins will be back.

We actually had a great show!

We ‘Showcased’ at the Swing House Mon night. It was pretty interesting. We had one guy show up to the first from EMI and two guys show up to the second slot from Epic. The guys from Epic were literally blown away. The older, experienced guy said ‘It’s the kind of music I could take bong rips to and listen to all night’. Kind of shows where the music industry’s head is at. He singled everyone out for compliments and said he like my ‘Energy’, proving my point that you don’t need to be a good musician, but if you have a lot of energy, boy watch out!

They basically told us what I’ve believed all along. That the Lead Birds need to be playing live and developing a following. It’s as if we are this kick ass band who records a little self produced EP and expects to instantly make it. I think he’s right, we need to show our strong-point, our live show.

Basically though it was a night of sucking off record execs and having nothing to show for it. Typical L.A. B.S.

Like the Bike that was locked up out back and stripped completely.

But the real interesting part was being a hired gun to back up some country guys, Josh Graham and Rick Russel from the Smoking Armadillos. They are doing their own thing now and Dennis and Jarred (Leadbirds, MFC) used to play for the ‘Dillos.
We were contacted Thursday, and wrote sketch charts out Fri. night, Listened to the charts on the way to the gig, rehearsed in the dressing room, and went on stage to play the songs in front of a thousand or so people.
Which means we (4 of the six Leadbirds) had to leave IMMEDIATELY after our set in Ventura and drive straight to Bakersfield for the country gig.
Granted I made a few mistakes, but for the most part, the band was hot.
(the pic is crappy cause it was nighttime by then and my phone camera sucks.)
Straight ninja style. Learn it right before and walk out and kill it!