Another JC story, thanks for that. I admit I barely remember seeing Cricket Machine, but then again, I barely remember a lot of things back then. I think I only managed to see you guys once or twice anyway. I do remember just about everyone complaining about Cricket Machine riffing on REM too much, but it sounds like you’re refuting that, pretty much.

Hey, where the hell is Damon? He’s the only one outta that crew I knew. Damon was a cool guy I thought. As far as I recall, he was a very laid back individual always ready for a party. I remember numerous occasions that he would scrounge the bars for cigarette butts to toke on. Can’t think of many other people that did that…

I have spent some time reading through some of the posts about old J.C. bands, and I wanted to share with everyone the first time Cricket Machine played in J.C. at the Highlander, and how this event led to a year long exile in Kingsport, or Chemsport, for some of you other Kingsport natives.

Well, I believe it was around 1989, I'm a little fuzzy on the fine details. We were hanging out at the Highlander, actually now it becomes clear, it was the same night as a pretty massive earthquake rocked San Francisco, and oddly enough, I was working hard to beat the high score on the Galaga Machine at the Highlander, nervous about getting on a real stage for the time.

Anyways, we were set to play their open mic night or whatever, we must have gotten there at like 8:00 or so, not a sole was there except for some crusty behind the bar(I think it was Danny) and Doug. We were young, Joey and I were 17, Damon, was 18 had just started school at ETSU, and Chris Gose the drummer was 18 and was down as Tusculum College. I had never been in a "club" before, and neither had Joey, and we had never played out, except for maybe a couple of parties, but we were definitely ready to make some noise. I think we were the only band scheduled for the night, and by the time is came time to play, like 10:30p.m., (11:30p.m. being Joey's curfew) there were a few folks there. We did our extended set of about 1 and 1/2 hours of music, and I must say for some green horns, we rocked out with our cocks out! And yes, specifically for Gary and Drew :), our set did contain our two REM songs, that would forever lets us be known as the band that sounds like REM. Nevertheless, we rocked and Doug invited us back for the very next night, to do our own gig, and man we were going crazy. We didn't have enough songs to really do a whole night, but we accepted the offer without a second thought. We left our gear there, in anticipation that we would return for the next night.

When we returned home around 1:30a.m., our singer, Joey, found himself in a world of hurt. His parents were absolutely livid, and immediately grounded him for a month, and would not allow him to play out the next night. Man, were we screwed! Here, we had worked hard for like three solid months in anticipation to play out at a real club, we kicked some ass, got our own gig, and now our singer was grounded, and hell, he was the only one who could sing, and knew the words to all the songs. Neither Damon, Chris, or I could pull this off without him, so we decided we had to cancel the next night's gig. The shitty part about it was that we had to drive to J.C. to pick up our gear at the Highlander, and tell Doug, in person, we had to cancel. Can you imagine having to tell a club owner, we can't play tonight cause our singer got grounded! Man, was Doug pissed off, I think he started throwing our gear out the door, and his last comment to us, as we got in our car was, "As far as I'm concerned your name is Mud around Johnson City", or something to that effect! This was embarrassing with all the locals outside there lookin' at us, laughing, etc. This would begin a year long exile in Kingsport, playing parties and Woodstone Deli, still desiring that one night on stage at a real club in J.C.

It finally came about a year later, after I had started school at ETSU, and we played an open mic night at The Pub Outback, where Doug was running sound. We billed ourselves under the name Mud, and Doug about shit when we walked in with our gear. Needless to say, he introduced us as Cricket Machine, and that would be our "re-start" to music fun in Johnson City.

Thanks for the opportunity to share this story.

It occurs to me that most of us did not know Ritter, Cash or Zevon, but at one time or another we all met Denise Cozad; for those who have not heard she passed away last week, after a long, brave and graceful fight against cancer. Please keep her, her family and of course all her friends in your thoughts and prayers.

This certainly has not been a good week for music lovers, has it folks?
Not a good week for lovers of the old 'Three's Company' either...

Damn, Johnny Cash died,,,,,,Damn.....

yep, heard the news heading to work
(they were playing Werewolves of London when I switched on the radio, so I guessed what was coming next)
He'll be sorely missed
Been playing my Hindu Love Gods cd a number of times since

(sure is quiet around here)

Even though everybody knew that was coming, that hit me rather hard when I heard about it this morning. I'm fixin' to listen to 'Jeannie Needs A Shooter'.

Damn, Warren Zevon is dead.....

What's that movie where some guy is in a hospital hooked up to an IV and there's a fish in the drip bag? And someone comes in and asks him how he's feeling and he says, "Scaley?"

as many of you guys know, i've been in the hospital on and off all summer long. tonite is the first titans game (which to me is the official start of autumn) and i'm going to watch it from the ancient 15" Magnavox hanging from the wall in this hellhole, i mean prison, i mean place of healing.

Maybe it's the drugs -- I'm on a constant drip of Dilaudid, plus i can pump my own every few minutes. Nurses wake me up every day at 6am, "your Valium Ms. Hines," and continue this ritual every 6 hours all day -- but why is it, when you are all alone with no sensory input except the ticking of the clock and dripping of the IV, that your mind fills with the most foul of pop songs. I've had Rod Stewart's Heart and Soul STUCK in my head for a week solid. Mentally, I have to sing every word. Here's another I can't get rid of, Bob Seagar, Rock and Roll Never Forgets. Whatthefuckingfuck? I HATE Bob Seagar. But every half hour, here's my brain... "you can come back baby..." What a lame song, anyway. It's like his producer said, "write a commercial for 'rocknroll,' man.' God, yuck! No sooner have i recovered from the late 70s aural hallucinations, than i hear The Waitressess singing "I know what boys like, I know what guys want..." I always hated that song too. Such a Walmart interpretation of punk rock. And the chick who sang it was really quite unattractive and annoying in the video -- which would be fine with just a little more irony thrown in. But alas... we're to believe that men are such simple creatures that not only can the downmarket singer, but all women, everywhere can have any man wrapped about her press-on nailed little finger with the right combination of cliched flirting techniques (lick lips, suck hard candy, toss and run bony fingers thru bad 80s hair -- and he's all yours! Any fish that can be caught with that bait needs to be checked for illness. But that's beside the point.... I'M THE SICK ONE HERE. I should be having all the yummy, happy hallucinations these pharmaceutical drugs can provide, and they should be good.

Whatever happened to my wallpaper bunnies?

Ha! scott -- I remember that night. Lisa kept saying she "brained" herself. poor thing. had a taco-shaped bruise on her forehead for weeks. Drew was there too because i remember Lori Moore (is that her name?) -- went to vet school in mississippi -- kept calling him Duke because he was wearing a Duke University t-shirt that said DUKE real big across. Lori is completely entertained by repeatedly calling him duke instead of drew. Lynn Youngquist was there b/c she kept saying, "HA ha, Drew is Duke -- we are going to start calling you duke, the duke of drew...." on and on.

we left because a car drove up and said we were Tresapassin'. Can't recall if they were cops or just guards from the animal clinic. We apologized profusely in our very best imitations of fine upstanding PBR-drinking citizens. But i remember (half jokingly) asking if this were a common problem, and they said that yes, as a matter of fact, people bring boom boxes down there and everything!

As far as the being a bunch of LOSERS, for hanging out and drinking under a bridge next to the rail road -- all I can say is, "come on." It's big, honking American Gothicanna. Pabst Blue Ribbon! Underage drinking! Hitting your head HARD on the industrial revolution. We were doing research. However, if we were STILL drinking PBR, under that bridge, I would totally agree. Loserville.