Don't Judge a Book By Its Cover
by Martin Walls
"I was afraid this would happen,” says Roy Blount Jr. as he sips a drink and watches his bandmates, members of amateur rock group The Rock Bottom Remainders, sound check with tight, rousing versions of “You May Be Right” and “The Shoop, Shoop Song.”“We’ve gotten too good.”
Blount may be right. The Rock Bottom Remainders, a combo of professional writers that plays benefit concerts three or four times a year, has gotten pretty good. The band knows a fair number of rock and pop standards, it knows how to play through the bum notes, and it puts on a first-class show. But by the time it takes the stage at Googleplex, the home base of the Silicon Valley Internet giant that is hosting the 2005 Adventures in the Mind conference, it’s apparent that the band still refuses to take itself too seriously.
Wearing a funny hat and reading from a page full of gags, emcee Blount takes the stage first and introduces the group, which includes singer and novelist Amy Tan, dressed in a shocking wig and loud clothes (“Do I look cheap enough?” she asks); rhythm guitarist and humor columnist Dave Barry, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and grinning ear to ear; and novelist and broadcaster Mitch Albom, the band’s keyboardist, with a fake Elvis wig and sunglasses at the ready.
Good Progress
Recreational music making is about having fun and welcoming amateur musicians to the jam no matter what their ability or experience. In their playful attitude and in the many benefits the band reports finding in its music, The Rock Bottom Remainders represent the spirit of amateur music making as well as any band in the country. And there’s no better example of this spirit among its individual members than Blount. A biographer, broadcaster, and comic writer, he is one of the original members of the band, which played its first gig at the 1992 American Booksellers Association conference in Anaheim, California.
“I’m the least musical member of a highly unmusical band,” says Blount, using the self-conscious humor that is one of the band’s trademarks. “I’m a deep background singer,” he continues, “but music making’s a big tent, and if I can do it anyone can.” Novelist, publicist, and singer-songwriter Kathi Kamen Goldmark, whose idea it was to form a band of writer-musicians to play for charity, explains how Blount got his musical start. “We had him sing the ‘toot-toots’ in ‘Don’t Mess with My Toot-Toot,’” she recalls. Thirteen years on, Blount says he is making good progress with his “deep background” singing. “Now I sing a whole phrase,” he proudly points out, “‘You move me’—that’s a 50% uptick in words!”
Really Close
Thirteen years is a long time in rock ‘n’ roll. To put it in perspective, remember that it covers The Beatles’ life span, from their days in Hamburg and Liverpool to the split in 1970. “Ah, but The Beatles made the fundamental mistake of revealing too much talent,” counters Dave Barry, explaining a key difference between the Fab Four and The Remainders. “We said, ‘Let’s not write decent songs. Let’s start at a low point so that people could say, 13 years on, we’re just as bad as we used to be.’”
Barry began playing guitar at a young age. “My father bought me a secondhand guitar, with four strings. We were that poor,” Barry recalls. When he was in sixth grade, he graduated to a six-string guitar, and began playing folk music. “Simple songs like ‘Michael Row Your Boat Ashore’ and ‘Jamaica Farewell’ and a number called ‘I’ve Had It,’ which you could play with an open chord.”
More humble than he ought to be about his guitar playing, Barry’s self-deprecating jokes nonetheless keep the band’s feet on the ground. “Despite playing for years, I’ve never gotten any good,” he says. “My thing is I don’t have the manual dexterity you need to be a great guitarist. For instance, Greg Iles showed me how to play the intro to ‘For What It’s Worth,’ saying, ‘It’s the easiest riff you’ll ever play.’ Well, I can’t play it!”
Describing himself as a recreational musician, Barry says he plays mainly for the wellness benefits making music brings. First, making music offers a chance for this busy, in-demand writer to get away from the word processor for a while: “Making music is the most relaxing thing I do. When no one’s around, and I have no major obligations, I like to crank the guitar up loud.” Barry says he also enjoys playing with friends who are all seeking the same thing, escape from the daily grind of writing and publishing: “The reason why the band is still together is that we’ve become really close friends. When we have a gig, we get together and play for three or four days. It’s like going to camp!”
More Fun
Goldmark echoes what Barry says about the bonds of friendship forged in this amateur band, which has raised more that $1.5 million for charity over the years. “Everybody has made such good friends at an age and a stage in life when it’s hard to do that.” Goldmark explains that the band became very close after sharing a bus during a 1993 tour of the country. “Some of the authors said that it had been a while since they had found a new buddy without there being some motive behind the friendship,” she says “That’s why the project really worked out.”
Then there is the side benefit of playing in a rock band made up of famous authors. “We get to feel like real rock stars for these gigs, and we even have roadies,” says Goldmark, who, when she gigs with her other band in San Francisco, carries her own equipment. “This is more fun than making a living as a musician,” she confesses.
At the practice room near the large and well-stocked Google cafeteria, the roadies have set up guitars, drums, and other equipment so that the band can run through a few numbers before its evening gig. Away from the antics and jokes of the performance, its easy to see how well the band has bonded, not just as friends but as musicians. Although they are serious about rehearsal, they love goofing around (rewriting the chorus of “Gloria” as “G-O-O-G-L-E,” for instance), and there’s even time for some open jamming. It’s also plain to hear, as he launches into a jam of The Ventures’ “Walk, Don’t Run,” that Barry is a better guitarist than he claims—although true to his word, he does fluff the introduction to “For What It’s Worth.”
Loosening Up
The range of the band’s musical ability also can be gauged in rehearsal. The band’s core is a mix of wringers (professional drummer Josh Kelly, sax player Erasmo Paolo, and Barry’s younger brother, Sam, who plays a mean harmonica) and accomplished amateurs, such as bassist and thriller writer Ridley Pearson and lead guitarist and self-confessed gear geek Greg Iles, author of eight New York Times bestsellers. Not playing the Google gig, but still enthusiastic members of the Remainders, are horror writer Stephen King; cartoonist and creator of The Simpsons Matt Groening; author and composer James McBride; and mystery author Scott Turow.
Other band members present at rehearsal come up to the microphones as needed. Blount is coaxed by Goldmark to sing the “dooby-doo-wops” on The Beatles’ “Revolution #9,” while Amy Tan puts down her Palm Pilot to croon campy versions of “Boy from New York City” and “Leader of the Pack,” her two Yorkshire terriers playing at her feet.
Asked to describe what sort of musician she is, Tan replies, “I’m not a real musician. I’m a pseudo-singer, a disgrace to another person’s profession!” Like other band members, Tan understands the weaknesses in her playing and works with them for the sake of the show. “I can stay on key,” she says, “but I don’t have a voice with character or style. So I’ve learned to sing ridiculous songs, such as ‘Leader of the Pack,’ in trampy outfits.” If she took herself too seriously, she explains, she would be laughable. “Actually, I am laughable, but the laughs are intended.”
Tan says making music with The Rock Bottom Remainders is a great complement to her career. “Making music distracts me. It has helped me overcome stage fright as well as the boredom I’ve often experienced writing and speaking in public.”
One of the backing singers—The Remainderettes—Tan is actually a classically trained pianist. Asked why she doesn’t play piano for the band, she reveals another facet of music making that amateurs often report: the incompatibility between classical training and playing good old fashioned rock ‘n’ roll. “I studied piano for 15 years, but it hasn’t really helped me play in this band,” she confesses. “I wish I could improvise like those who do have a background in intuitive music making, but I became too reliant on sheet music.” Tan says singing with The Remainders is helping her loosen up. “I’d say I have moved about a quarter of an inch toward loosening up. I’m not frightened to sing into a microphone anymore. Making music is about trust.”
Not Bad
The original keyboardist for The Remainders was novelist Barbara Kingsolver, but that job is now done, very ably, by Mitch Albom. Albom is yet another kind of amateur music maker. Before he became a successful writer and broadcaster, he contemplated a career as a musician, putting himself through college by playing in clubs and bars. He found, however, that people were more interested in his writing than in his piano playing. Aside from being a skilled keys player—he once wrote a song for music legend Warren Zevon—Albom jokes his way through gigs along with the rest of the band. “I wear the Elvis wig so people know we’re not serious,” he says. “What Bruce Springsteen said to us sums up the attitude, ‘You’re not that bad,’ he said, ‘but don’t get any better, or you’ll just be another lousy band!’”
These days, Albom is joined on stage by his wife, Janine Sabino, a classically trained guitarist and a fine singer, who takes the lead on some numbers. To her bandmates she’s another wringer (“When she’s in the band, half our songs are on key,” laughs Barry), but in talking to her it’s clear that she is still another example of amateur music making. “I used to sing at bar mitzvahs and weddings,” she says, admitting that she became tired of this career. “I don’t miss doing that. You make a lot of sacrifices, and there were a lot of graduations and weddings of my family and friends that I missed. I still sing a lot, but I definitely don’t pay the bills with music anymore.”
At the sound check, it’s clear why Sabino was welcomed into the band. While roadies check monitors and levels, and curious Googlers wander in and out the cafeteria where the stage is set up, Sabino belts out “The Shoop Shoop Song,” singing to Barry, whose smile seems permanently attached. Her voice is strong and lush, ably supported by The Remainderettes and the band’s thumping backbeat. Later, she explains that her switch to singing part-time in this fun-loving band may actually be improving her voice. “I figure I’ll always be able to sing,” she says. “In fact, I think women’s voices get better as they get older, just look at Sarah Vaughn or Ella Fitzgerald. I really like my voice now.”
