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In January of 1998 my sanity was steadily deteriorating as I waded into another multi-month contract
with yet another cruiseship showband. The ship went into drydock, where they sit and give the
carpets a good cleaning and polish all the brass and stuff, so I had a choice to either stay
aboard with no air conditioning and no shows to take my mind off the encroaching madness or to
take a vacation. Since I'd only had the gig for a month or so I didn't have much cash -- that much
drinking adds up, too -- so I couldn't afford to fly back home to Chicago.
I remembered that my lifelong friend Steve Baum lived in Tucson, Arizona, just a short $80 flight
away, so the production singer (past-life same-sex [probably] partner Caroline Patterson) and I
drove to her place in Vegas and I flew from there. About a week into the trip, I went out to hear
a band play in a room that would become as familiar as the callouses on my hands: Boondocks
Lounge. The band? [Mike Hebert Presents] The Kings of Pleasure. My host was a fixture in the
music scene and introduced me to the house drummer, the infamous Jerome Kimsey, who
informed us that it was to be a weird night because they were auditioning drummers.
Well, I hadn't played in a week, so what the hell, right? Just sit in to keep the chops fresh. Being in
the lost world of ship life, I was totally oblivious to the Swing Renaissance that was just reaching it's
peak. At least it was in Tucson, where I hear tapas is catching on. [In all seriousness though, keep
your eye on the Old Pueblo -- it's home to some of the best players I've ever played with anywhere.]
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