When Your Drummer's a Hot Head...

The year was either 1995 or early '96 when Narrow Road secured a gig at a place called Club Zero (maybe Ground Zero - the correct name eludes me) in Russellville, Arkansas.  We would be opening for a band called the Steppin' Cat Daddies.  Two incidents from that evening especially stand out:

1) During soundcheck, Adrian, our drummer at that time, was seated behind his kit and working with the sound engineer to achieve the proper volume for each miked drum head.   As he was striking each head, the lighting engineer began testing the lighting rig:  colored beams began flashing off and on, while the metal trusses supporting the lights were raised and lowered.

I recall watching the lighting process and began to wonder as one particular truss inched closer toward Adrian: Isn't that a bit close to his head? 

Indeed, it was.  I have no idea what the engineer was thinking - perhaps he had left on a Union break or something - but the lighting truss was practically on top of Adrian's head as he continued to pound away during soundcheck.

Suddenly, a shrill cry resounded throughout the room.

"Oww!" 

It was Adrian; the heat from one colored bulb singed his scalp, and I jive thee not:  A wisp of smoke could be seen drifting from the crown of his head.

2)  As best as I can recall, our set went off without any further hitches.  The Cat Daddies were now at bat, and they were quite good.  Their bass player, in particular, was the star of the show:  his fingers working the fret board while his effects pedals emitted all types of otherworldly sounds.  The Cat Daddies' set ended to loud applause.  

I continued to watch them as they began tearing down their equipment upon the now darkened stage, which was raised several feet from the main floor.  The bass player walked over to the stage left corner to store his instrument before suddenly disappearing in the darkness.  A commotion rang out, followed by a lady's scream.

A few moments later, the bass player was brought back out to center stage, where the light's dim glow revealed blood streaming down his face.  He was dazed and confused, having miscalculated the stage drop off in the darkness before kissing the floor below.

Venue personnel tended to him in short order, and I recall it being a rather somber ride home for our band.

Adrian performing on drums in 2012.

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- K -

When Not to do Donuts in an Open Field...

It was a vast expanse of field we would be performing in the middle of, and if memory serves correctly, it was our good friend, Scott - from the hip-hop group, The Synchronized Brothers of the Faith - who had snagged us the gig.  For one reason or another, Scott's group was unable to perform, so he asked Narrow Road to do the honors.  Scott would be running the sound for this gig, circa 1996.

So there we were, in the middle of this field: setting up amps and equipment, tuning our instruments and running lengths of electrical cords for power.  Most of the band members were there doing the typical, preliminary pre-show work.

As we were setting up, a final straggler appeared from a distance in his vehicle.  It was Brian: our bass player/guitarist/drummer/jack-of-all-trades guy.  Brian is a man of many talents - a musician's musician.  You put it in Brian's hands and he can play it.  Best of all, Brian is one of the most likeable people on planet Earth.  Very few people could make me laugh harder than he could, back in the day.

Brian: A most likeable fellow

 
"Alright!  Here comes Brian!" someone exclaimed as we continued to set up.

And sure enough, a trail of dust could be seen as Brian drove his car up the gravel parking lot then onto the field close to the stage.  Ever fun-loving and high on life, Brian decided to treat the band to a little pre-show entertainment:  As he neared the stage in his vehicle, Brian felt that doing donuts was in order.

We laughed as his vehicle spun 'round-n-'round in that field, kicking up grass and dirt from under his little sports car's wheels.  And he showed no signs of slowing down, until...

From out of the blue, a man came running up, yelling and frantically trying to wave off Brian.  The guy was in a state of hysterics.  He finally caught Brian's attention and the car eventually slid to a halt.  The guy gave Brian a piece of his mind and then some before making his way to the stage.  Then we all received the brunt of his wrath.

Brian performing on bass guitar, circa '99

 
So what was the hubbub all about?  This field that I speak of, that was now scarred with skid marks and donut-shaped ruts, was a freshly sodded high school football field.  And the guy blowing a gasket was the coach.

Honestly, we were not cognizant of our surroundings: We were musicians, not jocks.  Our eyes were focused on our playing field: the center stage temporarily constructed in the middle of the turf.  The goalposts at each end never caught our eyes.  We apologized relentlessly before the coach stormed off.

Other than that, the show went off without a hitch; we scored a touchdown.

Brian performing on drums with Mella Fella:

a side-band comprised of Narrow Road members

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- K -

 

There's a Time for Everything (Including Knowing when to Break Up with Your Girlfriend)

"To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven..."  - Ecclesiastes 3:1

In 1996, members of Narrow Road were invited to be interviewed and to perform on a local, college-sponsored television program.  We were happy to do so, and all seemingly transpired well.  Until the playback...

As our images appeared on screen, our names were switched around.  No big deal: Those running the control room didn't really know who we were.

The sound was a bit sparse and tinny at times, fading in and out.  Again, no big deal: This was a college-operated outfit, after all, not a newsroom filled with seasoned studio veterans.

Yet, it was difficult what to make of it when our booking contact information whizzed by at 100 mph across the screen, multiple times. Add to that the contact number being incorrect upon each "fly by."

"Man," I finally piped up, "What's going on here?"

One of our members then fessed up:  "Well, that might be my fault," he sheepishly stated.

"What do you mean?"  I inquired.

"Well, the girl that runs the control room, the producer... I broke up with her a few days ago," he submitted.  "I think she's probably mad at me."

It was spilled milk; there was nothing we could do but laugh it off.

"Ya think?  Ah, man, couldn't you have waited until after the interview?" we teased.

There is, indeed, a time for everything... (including knowing when to break up with your girlfriend).

Evidence of a woman scorned?

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- K -

"Just Back Off!" (A Shocking Experience)

It was soundcheck time for us at the Methodist Student Union, located on the college campus of Arkansas Tech in Russellville, Arkansas.  Each band member was tending to his respective instrument:  Drum heads were struck and tuned; guitar chords blared out as amplifiers were adjusted, and microphones were checked for sound levels.  All was par for the course and went off without a hitch, until...

Our bass player, innocently enough, ambled over to our lead guitarist, intending to ask him a question.  As he placed his hand upon his shoulder, a sudden, shrill cry permeated the air:  "Owwww!  You - shocked - me!"

Shocked ourselves, by the shrill cry, everyone in the room froze, except our bass player.  Perplexed by what had transpired, and wishing to ensure our guitarist was okay, he bumbled toward said guitarist again, this time with an outstretched hand.

The tazed-n-dazed party shrunk back in retreat, not quite knowing what to do.  In desperation, wishing to avoid another hair-raising experience, he barked out, "Just... Back off!"

And for another brief moment, we were all frozen, again, in time.

Thankfully, the culprit of improperly grounded wires were discovered, and the numbness dissipated from our guitarist's hands before showtime.  No other band members were "lit up" during that '97 gig:  The evening commenced without any further pyrotechnics.  

Narrow Road - 1997

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- K -

If You Have to Make an Impact, Don't Let It be Your Foot...

In 1996, Narrow Road had the opportunity to open for an artist/group called Eric Champion and Spin Cycle.  Eric Champion was an established CCM artist in the '90's, and we were grateful for the opportunity to be the supporting act at Temple Baptist Church in Little Rock, AR.

Narrow Road @ Temple Baptist Church, 1996

 At the end of every Road performance, as the last song built up for the big finish, I was known to jump off the stage, do a toe-touch in mid-air (inspired by David Lee Roth) then land within the crowd as the final cymbal crashed.

There was a large crowd at the Eric Champion gig, and I was hoping to make a big impact with the crowd at the onset.  Turns out, the biggest impact I made was largely on my left foot.

At the end of our first song, I decided to make my move: I jumped from the elevated stage into the crowd below.  The cheers erupted, and so did my foot.  Something wasn't right:  I was in no pain, yet I couldn't move my left foot after landing; it felt like jelly.  

The band broke into the next song, awaiting my arrival back upon the stage, and I managed to hobble up there.  I turned to our guitarist, Darren, and exclaimed, "I think I broke my foot!"

"Yeah!  Alright!" he replied with a smile, not hearing correctly over the din of noise.

"No, really!  I broke my foot!" I stated in raised voice.

"Oh!"  The look on Darren's face expressed the message was now received loud and clear.

He didn't know what to do and neither did I.  We had only finished our first song.  Pain had not yet hit me, perhaps due to adrenaline, and the show had to go on.  Thankfully, we made it through our set, albeit I was way-more stationary than usual.  In hindsight, I can only speculate that I looked like "The Mummy" up there:  Performing on stage while dragging my left leg/foot behind me.

After the show, I made my way home and prepared to take a hot shower.  My left foot was swollen, black and blue.  Was my foot actually broken?  I don't really know.  Perhaps I had simply torn some ligaments or tendons; I never went to the doctor.  A couple weeks passed before the numbness wore off and total movement returned.  Whatever the case, the entire event made an impact upon me.  

Just another chapter from having been in a Christian rock band...

Narrow Road members, pre-show, with Eric Champion (2nd from right), 1996

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     - K -