Walkabout (through Beach Bash) Part 2 – May 25th, 2002

by Bing Futch

(continued) Then he turned his voice into a love cannon, akin to the love bomb, and starting with Susan, announced that he was going to love every single person in the room – that we’d “feel it,” starting slow and then “we go.” He pointed – “I love YOU” – the “you” ending in a strong, ringing falsetto. “I love you, I love you, I love,” he pointed at me, as I balanced the camera and kept him in the viewfinder. “Yoooouuuuuu,” he sang – and I let loose with a raising of my hand and a twist of the body. I had him in the monitors and also right in front of my face – I felt the note as well as heard it. “Yeah!” he yelled – he could see which people were truly on the same page. Then, repeating “YOU” over and over again, he brought the place to a boil. Such strong theatrics pepper Jasmine’s music and keep the average listener on edge. You’re never quite sure where anything is going, as with the huge noise, dissonance jam that aimlessly plotzes along and then suddenly resolves into a sweet and crisp jazz/blues groove. This kind of slight of hand is met with raging approval from the audience, many of whom are most assuredly on the same page. When Jasmine finishes, the elusive Paulie shows up to get on mic and thank his longtime friend for participating in yet another show. I notice that the videotape is about to run out. We’re recording in SP mode, so only an hour is getting squeezed out of each cassette. For one reason or another, it takes twenty minutes to go get another tape.

Last two acts and there were maybe a hundred people in the room. Though the music and messages had been sent and received, there was still a sort of realist mentality that created a thick atmosphere to breathe in. Obviously, ticket sales were low – which meant that Paulie’s annual show had, for the first time, ended in a pool of red ink. Cider put on a game face and rocked through their set, their poppy tunes getting a delightfully distorted run-through. It was somewhere in the middle of that performance that I went to shoot some lobby footage. A group of pre-teen boys, the collective sons of somebody inside, hovered near the tables holding skateboards. Through a series of surprising events, I found myself outside the hotel near a breezeway, videotaping the kids as they attempted to skate off of some steps that led to the parking lot. I got some nice footage – some winning runs and a handful of wipe-outs that are worthy of ESPN xtreme blooper reel time. After a good long period of slamming, whacking, landing, scraping and shouting – Paulie appeared for a short while and watched the proceedings before announcing that there had been some complaints about noise from the neighbors. Like a Hollywood cue, two frumpy women appeared at the end of the hall and peered at us in abject annoyance. “C’mon, I’ll see you later,” Paulie said, amiably. He noticed singer Lee Grisham from Superfly Rodeo and chased after him. I followed along as casually as I could and witnessed Grisham angrily gesturing at Paulie and shouting obscenities. He was obviously unhappy about something and Paulie was doing his best to quell the beast. Whatever it was – it caused Grisham to go off on several people in public, including a hotel security guard. And once again it had been proven that the Great Eight Track Of Life often changes tracks just when you’re getting into the song.

[[bbboxboy]]”Even when it’s raining, the sun can shine,” said Bryce Rutkowski of Boxelder to cheers. “We just party inside, you know, it’s okay. Big respect and big love to all the musicians and friends comin’ out and sharin’ the same energy.”

And with that, “Red, White and You” kicked off a celebratory set from a band whose time has more than certainly come. When hanging around the Boxelder band, you hear words like “diversity,” “unity,” “movement” and “mission” – all big neon arrows pointing towards their worldview – distinctly bigger than that of the average rock band. Their signature sound, part reggae, part modern rock, shows greatness in that they have just about created their own genre, much like the Police did in the 80’s. By slicing and dicing together many tasteful components of musical styles, Boxelder has dialed in a unique and immediately recognizable sound – a winning score for any group. As with hundreds of shows before, they grabbed the audience and shook the party loose with luxurious jams on “Wonder’n” and “Money Says,” featuring Doorway 27’s Wohlust as guest vocalist. It’s in this song that “some of us walk, some of us crawl, some of us stand and some of us fall” – thereby – we are equal as brothers. Or equally drunk, of which there were some fine examples staggering around.

Boxelder closed out the evening with exuberance. Standing around talking cameras with a fellow shooter, I suddenly realized that I was in conversation with Kevin Welsh – creator of the Surf NRG series and senior staff photographer of Surfer magazine; one of the true pioneers of his trade. Like standing on a movie set talking to Spielberg, it was enlightening and incredible at the same time. That bit of excitement totally prepared me for the raffle, which I promptly won. Taking the big, beautiful surfboard in hand – I immediately made plans to donate it. Surfing’s not one of my skills.

[[bingrickboard]]I had paced myself admirably and stayed away from alcohol until the final shots of the event were complete. As an impromptu community drumming circle fired up, I lugged the surfboard and cameras up to the room where we had stocked the bar with beer, Parrot Bay rum and DeKuyper’s shots. We knew that the nucleus of the complex would be the penthouse – though there were literally dozens of satellite parties launching even as we poured the first silky shots. Minutes began to take flight and seconds danced before our very eyes as the evening progressed. Dani and I slowly rose to the penthouse as friends and others began to head back to Orlando. Just about everyone involved with the event was booked to stay – so after popping in to a room here and cruising through a start-up soiree there – we entered the penthouse and dove into the midst. It all began to swirl about – comings and goings. Acoustic music battling the incessant techno beat, the winds begin to kick up and whip at the few gathered on the lower balcony. Four go walking on the beach. Winds have kicked the seas up and the waves are swollen, breaking diagonally upon the sand. You can lean back against the force and remain there, leaning upon the wind as you would a big blue couch. I sense a stirring in that force of wind and it seems to be focused at the Holiday Inn. Looking down, I see words forming on the sand, slipping and twisting around like snakes. Someone says, “look – down there.” I’m not the only one who sees it. “Death soon,” it says – or something like it – I’m squinting down at the ground trying to read what I know can’t be there. But it makes perfect sense. I’m standing on the edge of a cliff above a raging ocean and somewhere at the heart of it is calm, majesty – stillness. This black sky, the threatening waves – the insistent squall – it represented my life as I’d left it behind. Like the little cloud of dust that follows Pig Pen, it had manifested itself out of the atmosphere and dared me to come play as I had played the night before. The body count trickled down and finally fell when security came in and busted up what was left of the party with an authoritative “everybody needs to leave!” An exhausted looking Paulie was crashed on a bed upstairs in the penthouse with a few friends and I said good night before heading down to 323. Dani was already asleep, having left the party earlier. I grabbed a Miller Genuine Draft from the refrigerator and slumped on the sofa in the living room. Cel phone time said 5:15 a.m. or something to that effect.

It was 9:45 a.m. when I awoke to find myself sleeping in a puddle of beer. I immediately headed for the bedroom, climbed in bed next to Dani and promptly fell back to sleep again.

We were both back up before noon, blinking at an excessively beautiful day that seemed even more ironic than the weather previously. Extending our room checkout time to 6 pm – we passively watched television and slowly packed some of the less meaningful crap into our bags while recapping the operations of the weekend. A de-briefing on the coverage. Dani had proven to be a worthy photographer – she captured many moments with style and forethought. Trying to give her a crash course on photography, I urged her to use the frame like language. Composition is what makes a picture great – the language is evident in angles, distance, colors, framing, timing. Knowing your subject always helps – which is why I’ve been trying to get her more into the scene. It will certainly help with her knowledge of what music is coming through the pipeline. Dani is one of the keys to moving to the next phase – I help her, she helps me, we’ve got a groovy symbiosis and we’re one step closer to realizing the dream. Or at least getting paid to dream. I’ve also discovered that there is more friend in Dani than I realize. For all of those people in our lives who are the easiest to get along with – she’s the quintessential best friend.

In a way – the weekend was about more than just participating in an event that attracted a lot of positive people. It was a chance to truly get out and live like you’ve never lived before. It’s the seizing of today because tomorrow is but a chance and yesterday can never change. With planetary alignments leading into a time of great transition, it’s no wonder that the forces of nature were so closely intertwined with this show – during which people came together and held up a standard of excellence for life NOW. Though it wasn’t the largest edition of the series, this 7th edition of the Beach Bash did manage to raise not only awareness but a tangible tingle of power. At its core is a movement dedicated to seeing human beings treat each other and the environment better. This can only happen when individuals are sacrificed for the good of the group. And what a character study! The intercutting storylines between so many, the little dramas and sociological commercials for that lifestyle and this platform – there is something happening and stirring and bubbling up from the underground. Once again – a sort of indignance salts the pot and opens the doors to the new revolution. Where art once again speaks of wisdom as opposed to wealth. All the rain did was water the seed. The tree continues to grow.

Saturday, May 25th – Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

[[bingbeachalive0002]]I’ve been on pseudo-vacation for about a month, but the schedule’s clear of gigs, court appearances and special occasions for a little while. So, I’m goin’ troppo, as George Harrison might have suggested, heading to Key West for the first time in my life. Jae is stoked to be joining me – she says she’ll have fun watching me experience it all as a virgin. Am I excited about making like a parrothead and chilling for ten days in this legendary island paradise? Not as excited about coming back and finalizing the paperwork on my house. Since beginning this latest installment of the “Walkabout Chronicle,”, the word has come through from my real estate agent that the bank has approved my offer. What I hope that means is- I’ll soon be the owner of a little cottage on a big lake. My own little Skywalker Ranch. Looks like a shack, works like a production facility. Also, great barbecues on the weekends. I’m quite excited to be housed and poor again with only the tools necessary to butter both sides of my bread. For me – the living is not in having. The living is in the feeling. And in the ability to say “get the fuck outta here” and have it adhered to. It looks like the Keys will be where I finally have a chance to chill out and let the process take its time. Until then – a bit of current floating and rapids roughhousing.

Lucas and Spielberg used to release all their movies on May 25th, which is why this installment turned out to be so voluminous. With a sexy vacation coming up and the knowledge that the big moving machine must re-start – I leave you to maximize your lifestyle and suck down the “now.” (to be continued)

“bfsig”