My Real Memoir
We were out of style without ever actually being in style. Honestly, The Luscious Naipseht was kinda poppy, with our big, boxy British Invasion-style guitars. Marc had one just like George Harrison’s. And my first electric was the same model Gerry of Gerry and the Pacemakers played.
True, cute, poppy groups with cute, poppy names like The Monkees, Herman’s Hermits and The Turtles were still dominating the airwaves. And living legends like Aretha, Stevie Wonder and The Beatles were still bestowing classics on the world. But all of the cool bands in our WASPy little suburb were shifting toward psychedelic or keyboard-driven rock.
We kept losing battles of the bands to groups with lead singers who looked stoned and organists who could play “Light My Fire” with less than ten mistakes. We lost one battle to a band whose entire set consisted of a single 25-minute-long version of the psychedelic soul tune “Time Has Come Today.” Interestingly, another band who lost that night had a skinny little guitarist who, a decade later, grew some muscles and became the action movie star Steven Seagal. (Oh, why didn’t I get a black belt in aikido?)
Our next battle was at Sunny Hills High School in Fullerton, Steven’s town. But he didn’t play that night. And neither did Jackson Browne, who’d graduated from Sunny Hills the year before. To this day I’m grateful Jackson wasn’t there.
We finally booked a non-battle, an after-game dance at our own school! The only problem was, several of us, along with my sort-of girlfriend Kelle, were scheduled for a prestigious high school play festival in Santa Barbara that same day. No problem, there’d be time to get back. Except there wasn’t. Our one-act Waiting for Lefty won the entire festival (I also won best actor)! After receiving our awards, we all jumped into my mom’s Falcon Futura. I drove ninety+ miles-an-hour, receiving a license-suspending ticket along the way, and we still arrived late. We played for just twenty minutes, and the few who’d stuck around pronounced us “not worth the wait.”
Something was wrong. So we changed our name—and got booked to play at our town’s annual outdoor Arts Festival at the local shopping center! Only after our lead singer told the local newspaper reporter on the phone that we were now Jeff Ward and The Inheritors, we ended up being billed as Death Ward of the Inheritance!
The name turned out to be prophetic. And just to make things extra-Old-Testamenty, it rained. Hard. All day. First, our school drama group (including Jeff, Marc and me) presented the play Stage Door in a special theatre tent, wading on and off-stage through ankle-deep water.
And then we took to the big stage. Outside. In the rain. We played three songs for a handful of people huddling under the awnings, and finally had to quit because Jeff’s microphone kept electrocuting him. And that, dear friends, marked the tragic end of…
The Least Famous Rock Band of All Time.
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Ha! I love your writing style here. From the title to the end, this is a great read
Thanks, JYP!
Great post! “The Least Famous Rock Band of All Time.” Really funny.
Thanks, Don!
Thanks for sharing 👍👍👍
My pleasure, Howard.
Good story and great writing. My band had similar experiences, had to change our name twice because of copyright deals, had a record deal, made a record, then toured with some bigger names than us, then had an album deal and then, our organ player ran off to live in a commune in northern CA, our drummer had a nervous breakdown, and I got fed up and left. Two of us, the bass player and lead singer and I got together again in 2000 and played in a band together for 20 years, so yes, it can happen again, even after all the missteps. The three surviving members of our band in the 60s got together for lunch this past Saturday. We talked a bit about the old touring days and a few hilarious gigs, then it was mostly who has had the most surgeries and diseases. Typical old guy crap. Even though we are old, we can still rock the walls with our loud Fender amps.
Old rockers never die. Well, OK, they do, but they do it loudly. ;>)
Turn it up to 10 and strap my Epi to my walker..that’s my motto.
;>)
Great post and so fun
Thanks, Beth.
Oh, what memories. Today I’m laughing because you are a fantastic humorist. Oh, and congratulations on the “Best Actor” award.
Thank you, Kellye. And thanks for the belated acting congrats. ;>)
Oh, those wonderful adventures of youth. They do seem like a lot more fun now that we are old fuddy-duddies!
Great story Mitch…I was in a few bands like that myself. They all start out with so much hope and you know you are going to make it…and then it sinks. I wanted to be either A: a rock star B: third baseman for The Dodgers to take Ron Cey’s place…but life had other plans.
Ah, yes, life does that, doesn’t it, Max.
Regardless of how good or bad your local band was, teenagers just enjoyed dancing to an ear-shattering beat. You and your friends had fun and created memories for all of us to enjoy. thanks, Mitch!
And thank you, Nancy.
Mitch, your story of your band gave me a good laugh! You tried and had the right equipment but not the right sound. What a fun adventure that gave you an idea of what not to do in the future!
;>)
😊
North Minneapolis, 1962, the era of my neighbors down a block on Sheridan avenue. The Trashmen..the bird is the word guys..Tony Andresson. Since we were a year younger and my friends were all ham radio geeks, we decided on the Fables. We had no national hits and most historic thing was downtown where we watch K0OGH’s dad play drums at Brady’s bar. We would pick him up at night and pack up his kit and drive around Broadway with the kick in the back seat. Cool cruising. K0JMV, K0QMU, K0TXH and K0OGH rock and roll with 150 watts CW on 15 meters. It’s pretty good. Jack
Love the reminiscing, Jack, but you lost me a little with the acronyms.
Mitch, the K0…stuff are amatuer radio license/call signs. I used them rather their real names. CW is continuous wave communication (morse code) and 15 meters is a radio band for operators in the spectrum frequency between 21 and 21.45 MHZ. I thought more folks would be familiar with those terms. Sorry for the confusion. Technical assumption.
Ah, copy that. Thx!
This was a fun(ny) read!
Thanks, Muri!
And a tragic saga it is.
;>)
Too true, too true… The path to anonymity is veritably FRAUGHT with peril! 😱
Ha ha, good one!
Love your tongue-in-cheekiness style of writing in this page of your memoir.
Thanks, Cindie.
It is a tragic ending indeed. But without that tragic ending, the world might not have experienced the very fruitful beginning of Mitch Teemley, writer/director/producer/blogger.
Also… very impressive to have come out of the same creative crockpot as Steven Segall and Jackson Browne!
Well, nearby crockposts anyway. Thanks, Russell!
Oh my! Hilarious, particularly at the end. Loved it. Made my dat. (I guess at 86 that doesn’t take much, but I do appreciate it!)
Aw, thanks, Eileen!
Rock on, Mitch. 🎸
Always! ;>) Thanks, Kevin.
Dang, Death Ward of the Inheritance is a better name than The Luscious Naipseht. I wrote a humor post recently about how every time I give my name (Jeff) to a stranger, they repeat something else back to me. But so far, not death.
;>)
Hey there Mitch, The first band I was a member of was The Rolling Stones but they kicked me out for gathering moss. Go figure. Have a rockin day. Jerry
Rim shot. ;>) You too, Jerry!
Electrocution of the Death Ward! A very 70″s ending indeed. So enjoy your memoirs.
Humor is everything, especially as we age!
;>)
Very cool post!
Art
Thanks, Art!
At least you tried! I do love reading your memoirs. And although you may not have been a successful band, you were a successful actor. And you also took more risks than I ever thought of taking at that age (in a good way.) You couldn’t have paid me to get up on a stage and perform for others.
It was that way for me too earlier on, Ann, but I gradually got more and more comfortable in front of an audience.
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