Promo Week

It’s Saturday morning and we’re finding ourselves under ice in Middle Tennessee, praying not to lose power (spoiler—we didn’t). It’s a fitting end to a fairly epic week. I spent the week on the East Coast participating in some Lemonheads promo, some of which I’m at liberty to talk about because it’s already public—others I’ll keep under wraps for now.

I’m grateful this week to some distraction from all the disturbing news coming out Minneapolis, where I briefly lived in the 90s. It’s such a helpless feeling these days to go down the rabbit hole of current events, it’s so demoralizing. Now that I’m home and trapped under a sheet of ice I have plenty of time for hand-wringing and anxiety for everything that’s broken. Last week it felt good to feel like everything was right in tune and working out as planned. It may be selfish, but it feels necessary to not fall into despair.

Monday I woke up at 4:00 a.m. and flew to New York. I prefer to fly early—especially to LA where I lose hours. My dad has a place in Brooklyn and he lives there a couple of months a year when he isn’t at home with his wife, Claire, near Oxford, UK. I love it when our paths cross and we can spend some time together in my travels.

Dad and I made plans to watch our Indiana Hoosiers in their first ever national championship football game together (still feels weird to type those words). He’s a retired IU professor who took early retirement from Indiana before teaching at Oxford and Columbia. He spent nearly 30 years on the IU faculty. He’s a critic of the IU administration of late, but he can’t resist rooting for the teams. For anyone like us who have Hoosier bona fides, it’s irresistible. What a story, and what a cool evening to spend with my dad.

Evan Dando from The Lemonheads invited me to come to New York to play guitar for their performance on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. The opportunity for the band to appear on The Tonight Show for the first time in over 30 years feels like a high-water mark in our years-long effort to reboot the band around a new album release.

Evan initially planned to perform the song we co-wrote for the album, Togetherness Is All I’m After, which was the reason to include me in the performance. At some point, however, Evan changed his mind and decided to perform Roky, his tribute to Thirteenth Floor Elevators frontman Roky Erickson he wrote with Nick Saloman of The Bevis Frond, the great British psych revivalists (Soloman is an incredible songwriter—example posted above of a song I’ve covered many times).

I’ll confess an initial pang of disappointment over the change. I wanted the experience of playing on TV again. But I have to remind myself that none of this is about me. If there’s anything I can do to add value, I’m in—whether that means on the business side, on stage, in the studio, or writing material. But I know it’s counterproductive when I feel entitled to be part of it. If it’s good for the band and fun for me, that’s a win and I’m deeply grateful. But good for the band—good for the client—is the priority. I came around to the choice of Roky because it’s a great song to showcase the strengths of the group of musicians performing as The Lemonheads. That’s right—The Lemonheads is Evan plus musicians. There’s only one person who must be there for it to be called Lemonheads.

We met up and spent Monday afternoon at Trout Recording in Brooklyn, a studio owned and operated by longtime Lemonheads producer and collaborator Bryce Goggin. Bryce, who played piano on the Fallon performance, generously let us base out of Trout all week for rehearsals.

You’re probably thinking “rehearsal” isn’t a big part of the Lemonheads experience. That’s mostly correct. I wrote recently about the time I re-joined the band as a touring guitarist in 1994 and we never even made it to the expensive London rehearsal studio the band rented for two days of rehearsal before the first show. I played the first show—therefore every show—without any rehearsal whatsoever.¹ I learned the songs from the records and made adjustments on the fly. That sort of chaos worked in the past—especially considering the rehearsals were mostly for me. Now it’s non-negotiable—we need to make the most of these incredible opportunities.

One thing I think is interesting about playing with Evan is that he knows exactly what he wants (or doesn't want), and he gets down to minute details once he’s locked in. He gets super focused for a period of time that might be fifteen minutes or might be two hours—but we know there’s always a limited window.

He clearly wanted the performance to go well, because we spent a full ninety minutes getting the arrangement down. Erin Rae’s acoustic guitar and Bryce’s piano fell easily into place as the foundation along with drummer John and bassistd Farley’s solid, understated rhythm section. We had plenty of space to play electric guitar, with me mostly out of Evan’s way so that he could freely improvise during the solo. Erin’s vocals are the final element, a delicious dollop of honey on top to bring it all together. Erin is my favorite singer in Nashville. I’m still pinching myself that she’s part of it now.

I liked the song in my initial listens, but I didn’t consider it a standout on the album. Working on the arrangement changed my mind. It’s so versatile, such an ideal canvas for bringing a little Crazy Horse guitar chaos to a classic rock structure. I like the TV version better than the album version.

Friends have asked me about the experience of playing late night. How does it all go down? It varies from show to show, but it’s always a long day. The experience isn’t much different from 30 years ago. We arrived around 8:30 for load-in. We had three green rooms to accommodate our crew and guests, which included my wife, Heather and our teenage daughter, Sophie. Heather and Sophie decided to fly in for a girls’ trip, Sophie’s first time in New York. Evan and his wife Antonia claimed the smallest room to give Evan space to prepare, while the rest of us occupied two larger rooms, each set up to accommodate a half-dozen.

Guests arrived close to the real-time taping. During the sound check and show prep there’s a lot of sitting around and waiting. The soundcheck is the usual routine: check the instruments then play through the song. The show provided perfect quality rental amps to our specifications so that dialing in a sound wasn’t a problem. I had my own guitar and pedaboard, which are the crux of my sound. Everything sounded great on stage, which makes for an easy performance.

After an initial run-through we played the song a few more times for the camera and lighting crews to set up their shots. Once complete, we had a few hours to kill. I did some work on my computer and waited for my family to arrive. I caught up with our publicist Ken Weinstein and his colleague Kenzie, who introduced me to Julie, who books the music. She noted my IU shirt and told me she’s an alumnus. Hoosiers are everywhere!

Antonia alerted us just before the show taping started that Jimmy wanted to drop by to say hello to the band. We gathered and he came exactly on schedule, seeming genuinely thrilled to have The Lemonheads on the show. He hung around and chatted—mostly banter with Evan—for about five or ten minutes. Then he assured us we didn’t need to worry because if we didn’t like our performance, we’d just do it again. He asked us if we’d stick around after to play My Drug Buddy for their YouTube channel.

Almost instantly he appeared on the screen as the show began. I sort of half watched and half paced around nervously. When the time came we walked down the hall and out to the stage together. It went down exactly as it was supposed to.

The most interesting thing for me was how different I felt from when I used to do these shows thirty years ago. Back then I was pretty much terrified through the entire thing. The first time I did one—the Conan Show—Evan asked me to sit on the couch with him. He didn’t feel comfortable being out there by himself. Well, I’ve never felt less comfortable in my life than sitting on that couch! (It was a nice bonus, however, to sit next to my childhood crush Barbara Eden.)

I had a creepy feeling back then that all eyes were on me. In a sense, I suppose they were—millions of people were watching. In a way I wanted to be visible, but at the same time I wanted to be invisible. I’ll bet some fellow musicians will understand this dichotomy. In any event, it all felt a little terrifying.

Now I realize it doesn’t matter—I’m there to support Evan. Sure, people will be looking at me, but I’m just another dude playing guitar on TV. What does it matter? What do I matter. This time I felt calm—I had nothing to worry about. Thirty years changed my perspective so that I could simply enjoy the strange and wonderful experience.

Evan insisted that the show’s producers include language in Jimmy’s intro that Roky is a tribute to Roky Erickson. The music itself serves as a tribute, it’s probably the bluesiest rock song Evan’s written since Rick James Style. I love Evan’s solo, which reminds me of Neil Young—beautifully phrased while constantly careening on the edge of chaos. My own solo is tightly controlled for contrast, sticking to a melody he plays on the record. If we had played the song a half-dozen more times I’m sure my part would have evolved. But I like how it came out.

The performance of My Drug Buddy, which already has double the streams on YouTube, is very off-the-cuff. We didn’t rehearse, nor did we plan for Jimmy to join. He’s either an incredibly natural actor, or else he’s actually a huge fan of the band. I’m going with the latter.

After the show I went downtown with my family (Heather, Sophie, my dad, and our friend Anthony DeCurtis) to get pizza at our favorite place, John’s of Bleecker. We went to a sweet shop just east of John’s on Bleeker that was Anthony’s favorite place when he grew up in the neighborhood in the 60s and 70s. He told us his family rented their two-bedroom apartment on Bleecker for $100 a month.

I spent the night with Heather and Sophie in their hotel near Rockefeller Center. I tried to stay up to watch the show, but I couldn’t make it. It’s pathetic, really: I can’t even stay up til 12:30 to watch myself on network television.

Thinking about it now, it’s funny that I’d been thinking about playing on the Tonight Show as simply something fun to do with my family. I liked how it surprised my kids, but I wasn’t thinking about the public aspect at all. It’s been a quarter century since I’ve had any sort of real public life, if you’d even call it that. I was fame-adjacent, while Evan was—and is—famous.

I’ve known a lot of people over the years who live very public lives. I know what that’s like. It’s not something I want or chase in any way, nothing I’ll chase. But it is fun to do something so public that you hear from people you haven’t heard from in years. Keep ‘em guessing, I suppose.

The next night we played a free pop-up show at a place on Avenue A near Tompkins Square Park called Lucinda’s, which is owned by Lucinda Williams. It’s a 150 capacity room that used to be called Brownie’s in the 90s. I think I played there; I definitely went there more than once. That’s the neighborhood I know best in Manhattan. We used to stay on the park with my cousin back when it was dangerous. I miss that version of the East Village.

Our show went well, at once tight and chaotic. Our seven-piece band, including two of Evan’s Brazilian collaborators, chugged along as a tight unit while Evan threw us curve balls one after another. The fans lucky enough to be there had a blast—I could see it in their faces. Partly because their faces were about three feet away in the cramped space.

Oh yeah, and our Hoosiers won it all. I saw a piece of a Curt Cignetti interview where he quoted Once In a Lifetime by Talking Heads, something I do often. You may find yourself…coaching (or at least watching on TV) the National Champion Indiana Hoosiers. You may find yourself playing rock n’ roll music on The Tonight Show with your best friend and it isn’t such a big deal after all.

1. One of Mike Watt’s many language rules is that you never say a band “rehearses.” You say that a band “practices” because “actors rehearse.” I think the point is that music should be spontaneous rather than rehearsed, and that practice is what you need to get better. But I’m not sure. All I can tell you is he corrected me numerous times on this point.