It shoulda been a Goff ...

[plev@ix.netcom.com (Pete Levin)]

Hey all.  'Scuse me, I gotta vent a little bit.

Call me a pessimist, but I think I smelled this coming.  A few weeks 
ago I asked Al if any of the Detroit or Chicago rental outfits had 
Goffs.  Of course that's out of his territory, so I rode in on the 
pot-luck special.

Saturday night.  Carla Bley at the Detroit Jazz Festival - with an 
absolutely outstanding 17-piece band.  No soundcheck ... just a setup.  
It looks like an OK B-3.  One dead drawbar, but the keys all work and 
the cabinet is all the same color. (A good sign.)  The sound guys 
decide to hook up a 2nd 122 and keep it backstage for miking.  Good 
plan.  They hook it up while I'm woodshedding a tough phrase.  Suddenly 
sparks are flying around the Leslie junction box.  Somebody pulls the 
plug.  One guy is jumping around shaking his hand and yelling a lot.  
Tools come out.  5 minutes later we crank the B-3 back up.  It still 
works.  Its a Hammond, by God!  Indestructable ... although there's an 
interesting combined odor of oil and electrical fire.  We hit a few 
notes, confirm that both Leslies are on and spinning, and wait for the 
radio broadcast introduction.

So the first tune has a long solo piano intro, then the organ joins in 
with sustained churchy chords.  (The B-3 is smelling real strong now, 
but no smoke ... a good sign.)  First chord and I knew I was in deep 
shit.  Harmony from another planet.  Carla almost fell off the piano 
bench.  The whole band is staring at me like I'm nuts.  I gave it up 
after 16 bars or so to take stock.  (Did I mention the live broadcast 
we're doing?)  The whole band is playing.  Stage guys are swarming all 
around looking at me for instructions - like I know what to do.  It 
takes a minute, but I finally realize that the Hammond is 1/2 step 
flat.  &%$*&@^$    Power down and back is all I can think of.  Still 
1/2 step flat.  Again.  Same thing.  This runs me clean out of options. 
 I wave the stage guys away and transpose the whole gig up 1/2 step ... 
and this is not a blues band folks!  The kindest thing you could say is 
that I missed a couple of notes.  Turned out to be a 9 yak gig.  
(Cognacs)  (Afterwards, of course.)

The moral:  You can count on death, and you can count on taxes, but 
NEVER take it for granted that the rental Hammond you're about to play 
is in C.

I don't tour on organ that often.  I don't know how the hell Jimmy and 
the other guys do it constantly and say sober.  It really makes you 
rethink the morality of chopping your own down to road size: At least 
you'll always know what you're gonna be playing on.

Never mind.  I'm just venting.  Cheeez, what a night!

Best all.

Pete