Hi everyone. I wanted to take a moment to welcome our new editor for West Regional Reports. His name is Gordon Wilson and he has been a regular and dedicated contributer to this section for quite some time. If you have questions about submission guidelines or are interested in contributing, please contact Gordon. I will continue to focus on my webmaster duties and I hope to do more writing in the future. Thanks to everyone for your support and help with West Region over the last three years.

Aloha,
Sarah

In This Issue:
Dubya is For Widespread - by Martin Acaster
Widespread Panic 11/2/00 - by Chris Bertolet
Halloween Hootenanny - by Rich Flaminio
THE OMINOUS SEAPODS 11/8/00 - by Streator Johnson
The Ominous Seapods 11/10/00 - by John R. Zinkand
Let It Snow - by Gordon Wilson

Dubya is For Widespread

by Martin Acaster

Panic that is.

As defined by Webster's panic is a simple overpowering fear. Quite ironically, on the evening of November 8th, 2000, while approximately half of our nation's participating voting population was awash in this emotion, I found myself attending my first Widespread Panic show in eight years. That first show (7/10/1992), a one set performance at Empire Court in Syracuse, NY, on the 1992 H.O.R.D.E. tour, marked a musical fork in the road for me. Since music is such a huge part of my life it marked a similar fork in my personal life. Since my personal life appears to have an inexplicable but nonetheless undeniable impact on the universe as a whole, it also marked a major turning point for our nation.

Shortly before the H.O.R.D.E. tour rolled through Syracuse a road show of a different sort had passed through town. That roadshow was the 1992 presidential campaign of Bill Clinton. Having become a naturalized citizen in 1989, the 1992 presidential election was to be my first opportunity to cast a vote for the man who would be potentate of the free world. Mr. Clinton was of course opposed in that election by then incumbent George Bush and a bizarre elfin proto-humanoid alien entity named Ross Perot. I am a freak. I like to go against the grain, stir the soup, rock the boat. I voted for Ross Perot. Since a vote for Perot was actually a vote for Clinton, I played an integral role in propelling arguably one of the best presidents of this century into the oral (uhhh... I mean oval) office. I made a choice and had to live with the consequences. As I indicated above, this intriguing political crossroads was contemporaneous with a musical one.

To the angler in us all, the ultimate question is to fish or cut bait. On the night of the 1992

H.O.R.D.E. show my choice as a budding fan of the new horizon of rock that would ultimately develop everywhere (the so called jam band scene) was to Phish or Panic. For me it was an easy choice to make. Widespread Panic made absolutely no impact on me that night (either good or bad). I can recall nothing of what I heard them play. Phish on the other hand gripped my soul. Incredible as it was to me at the time, Phish took me to brink of spiritual ecstasy on the strength of their music alone (my first Antelope). For the first time in my life I cried tears of orgiastic joy in response to the sound and light emanating from a stage (my first Reba). At the time when I most needed it I found the only thing that could fill the gaping hole that was developing within my heart (the Phish HOSE). I was falling out of love with a woman, while at the same time falling in love with a band. My first (only???) true love was beginning to show the stress fractures of its impending collapse. As the inevitability of this loss seeped in, the black hole at my galactic core grew larger and more voracious. It absorbed all the light and sound and energy that it could. Phish was the only thing capable of filling that void. As unfair as it may sound for me to say it (since they are really not in the business of providing personalized psychotherapy). Widespread Panic was not up to the task of saving my soul.

Eight years later the cycles generated by the choices we all made in 1992 have come full circle. Phish has decided to take a break, I have finally recapitulated the most psychologically damaging interpersonal relationship I have known in this lifetime, and a man named George Bush is packing his bags to move the "evil empire" back into the white house. Our paths have crossed once again.

The void in my life now is musical.

As I entered the Hult Center for the Performing Arts I found myself walking in unfamiliar territory. Some of the faces in the crowd were the same, but the landscape was foreign to me. This was the land of the Spreadhead. The road I had not taken. At this second crossroads, staring back down through the tunnel of the eight years we had spent apart I could see no hint of what lay before me. I was exploring a conceivably interesting musical terrain without a map. I had a clean slate (albeit with a much more refined sense of what I did and did not like about music) as I entered the show. Did Panic want to fill my musical void? Could they if they wanted to? Did I want them to? Was I too demanding? Are my standards too high? My head was awash with so many questions and the minty fresh breeze of a curiously strong Altoid. I had no expectations therefore I could not be disappointed. This show the musical equivalent of the place I now find my heart. Did (insert name of potential mate here) want to fill my dating void? Could they if they wanted to? Did I want them to? Was I too demanding? Are my standards too high?

I own no Widespread Panic. I have listened to at best a combined total of 10 hours of live and/or studio Panic in the last eight years. I think they played a REALLY good show in Eugene. My friends who are BIG Panic fans who saw the Seattle and San Francisco shows too, think they played a REALLY good show in Eugene. If you like Widespread Panic...this show is probably on the hear at all costs list. If you are ambivalent you still may want to check it out. If you don't like Panic this show might change your mind.

For the first time since the last time I laid myself open to Widespread Panic. This time around Widespread showed me they ARE capable of getting "there". The first time this sleight of hand occurred was during a twisted, somewhat dissonant, dark and brooding jam that preceded the first cover song of the evening (since I couldn't name a Panic song to save my life I unfortunately have to segment the show with the two songs they played that I knew). Panic tapped into my cerebral cortex and probed around to see what they could find. The cover song (bust out?...I don't know) they pulled out made me bust a gut laughing. The Guess Who's No Sugar Tonight. They ripped it. The whole complexion of the arena seemed to change. No sugar to stand beside me....no sugar to run with me. But I was all right with that. I felt no sadness. No grief. Nothing that Panic played between No Sugar and Wish You Were Here made me feel sad. The music rocked, the music soared, the music spun. Yet in my front row balcony seat I seemed to float above it all. I was not a part of this "Fam" and so felt strangely disconnected. I found myself in the role of impartial observer rather than frenzied participant.... and I liked it. The Widespread kids love their band....hearts undoubtedly were broken last night, demons were confronted, and epiphanies were enjoyed...but for the first time in eight years I did not have to feel it at all. I had no history with the band. No cataclysms from the past erupted from my psyche. This band was not going to get inside my head (or my heart) unless I let them. Neither...I realized will another lover.

As the first notes of Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here were strummed, the cosmic joke came full circle and the trap door to the hole in my soul slammed shut. If this had been a Phish show I would have been in tears....tears of love lost in the days gone by. But I was in such a (in)different place. Unaffected. Although the seat beside me was indeed empty I did not miss HER (no matter who she was/is/will be). Instead I missed Phish. I wished they were there. Now that I felt better. Now that the emptiness in my heart was finally gone. It was such an intimate venue and my soul no longer feared intimacy. I longed to be able to see the band I loved in a room this size. Someday....I believe it will happen.

I have been healed and Phish was the cure. Widespread Panic evidently served as the gate keeper to the doctor's office that was the jam band community. Phish may be on a break...George Bush may be our next president....but this is STILL not the time for me to "Panic". I just don't "feel" Panic. If YOU do....you should make it a point to go to a Panic show.... they seem to be on fire.

In closing, the future is undecided, I am (we as a nation are) at the crossroads once again. So many paths (potential loves) lie before me (us). Which way to go? Ultimately I find the Kirkmonster's advice is sound. I can no longer live in my past and relive those same heartaches I've chosen before. I must try something new. I voted for Jesse Ventura and I think it's time to date a redhead.

Meet the new boss....same as the old boss. I'm Just waiting for the fighting in the streets.

Widespread Panic
Wiltern Theater, Los Angeles, CA
November 2, 2000

by Chris Bertolet

"Inertia" is a word I like to use to describe the Widespread Panic experience. Like a freight train careening down a mountainside, drawing on gravity and steam, the band's ironside songs can tumble into full-throttle jams that seem unstoppable, all six pistons firing in synch.

The Panic train rode into Southern California on a balmy Thursday evening with plenty of inertia from its New Orleans Halloween run, and with something to prove. The Wiltern Theater was the first worthy SoCal venue they'd visited in years, and with a new sound and lighting crew, expectations were high.

Set I: Action Man > Greta > Bear's Gone Fishing > Aunt Avis, Machine > Barstools and Dreamers, Radio Child, Stop Breaking Down*, Light My Fire*

Set II: Sometimes, Give > Cream Puff War, Tallboy > Walkin' > Drums > Vacation, Stop-Go > Love Tractor

E: Going Out West

*w/ Robbie Krieger (The Doors) on guitar [first 'Light My Fire']

The confident "Action Man > Greta" combo got things cooking out of the chute, and it was quickly apparent that Panic's new gear becomes them. The improvisational heart of the band's treble section -- John Bell's rhythm guitar and lead vocals and JoJo Hermann's keys -- have often been inaudible beneath lead guitarist Michael Houser's wanky volume pedal antics. No more. For those who were perfectly content with the old sound, though, take heart; Dave Schools bass remains its old, thundering, sternum-shaking self.

The airtight duo of "Machine > Barstools" found the band at full throttle, even if drummer Todd Nance cut J.B.'s "babies" rap a hair short at the end. But the unexpected highlight of the set followed shortly after, when Doors guitarist Robbie Krieger joined them for blues standard "Stop Breaking Down" and WSP's first-ever cover of "Light My Fire." Krieger seemed elfin standing beside Schools, and a little taken aback by the energy in the room, but showed impressive chops, wrestling his Gibson through his signature "LMF" solo before riding the jam to a satisfying climax. It felt very much like the "L.A. nod" that local Panic fans have been awaiting for years.

"Sometimes," a mellow tune that like "Galleon" often seems to presage a skull-cracking set, opened the second half, and the sprawling "Give > Creampuff" that followed proved nothing less than the black diamond challenge the faithful were pining for. The music then tumbled backward through Widespread's history, from a declaratory "Tallboy" (which featured an uncharacteristically long outro jam) to a loose, open-ended "Walkin."

If the drums segment wore out its welcome, the band made amends with a rare and delicate "Vacation," and with a stellar and exploratory "Stop-Go" that sent J.B. into spasms of vocal improv. The set-closing "Love Tractor" must have been quite a ride up in the balcony, but the encore version of Tom Waits' "Goin' Out West" was a holler from the pit; taking note of a topless fan in the front row, J.B. punctuated the chorus: "She look GOOD without a shoit!"

On the whole, a blistering outing for the boys from Athens. How about a two-show run next year, fellas?

Halloween Hootenanny
featuring The Steve Kimock band with guests
The Miracle Orchestra,
Libby Kirkpartrick and
The Yonder Mountain String Band
Resort on the Mountain, Welches, Oregon. 10/27, 10/28

By Rich Flaminio

Steve Kimock’s musical endeavors have been steadily evolving. If you start at Zero, progress to KVHW, and then move on to the present, rotating cast of the Steve Kimock Band, this evolution is marked by a greater and greater focus on the big guitar wielded by Kimock, widely acclaimed as THE MAN as far as improvisational rock goes since Mr. Garcia traveled on to that great parking lot scene in the sky. Fortunately for jamband fans, you can still see this diminutive guitar giant in small, intimate venues. Such an opportunity was afforded Northwest residents at Segue Production's Halloween Hootenanny, occurring at The Resort on the Mountain in Welches, just 45 minutes east of Portland, Oregon. The venue itself was just your run of the mill hotel ballroom, transformed into an altar to psychedelic math rock/free jazz for two days as laid down by this particular incarnation of the SKB featuring Kimock, longtime partner in crime Bobby Vega on bass, veterans Pete Sears and Prairie Prince on keyboards and drums, respectively, and old buddy Banana fleshing out the lineup on rhythm guitar and vocals. From the opening notes, the band seemed relaxed and cheery, Kimock smiling as his fingers picked the delicate up and down arpeggios of “Kissin’ The Boo Boo”. Obviously enchanted by the pristine surroundings and close proximity of the audience, SK and company loped through two sets of standards such as “Why Can't We All Just Samba”, “Tangled Hangers”, the masterpiece “It's Up To You”, and wrapped up the evening's proceedings with an energetic reading of the recent BB King/Eric Clapton hit “Riding With The King”, the latter featuring a soulful vocal turn from Banana. The second night of this Hootenanny held the promise of even more fireworks, with the assembled in full costumed regalia. SKB opened strong with “A New Africa”, and “Whack!” (Sung “Quack” in honor of a stunning overtime Oregon Ducks football victory…you’ll have to trust me on this one!). Other highlights from the second night included “Bad Hair Day”, an elongated “Cole’s Law” that drifted into “Tangled Hangers”, and a jam-filled second set that incorporated themes from “Manic Depression” and “Big Yellow Taxi”. Riding with the king indeed! Just like at last summer's High Sierra Music Festival, when all was said and done, there was no question as to who was the king of this mountain!

A few notes on the opening acts, an eclectic mix of jazz, folk and bluegrass: Friday night featured The Miracle Orchestra, who impressed this reporter at the aforementioned High Sierra fest, and were just as proficient on this occasion, with the possible exception of an ill advised take on Michael Jackson's “Thriller”. These kids show loads of promise and can play the dickens out of their instruments, but in my opinion they didn't need that kind of schmaltz. Saturday night offered the sensitive folk singing of Libby Kirkpatrick, who had the audience enraptured, sitting in a semi-circle in front of the stage as if it was talent night at summer camp. The Yonder Mountain String band followed and continued the down home vibe, turning the room into an old-fashioned hoe-down. Here's another group of guys who can play, and play well. I’d certainly recommend any of these bands as being well worth seeing next time that they roll through your town.

Steve Kimock Band – 10/27

Kissin’ The Boo Boo
Why Can't We All Just Samba
Teeny Weeny Bit
Point Of No Return
Our Love Is Driftin’
Pete’s Blues
Young Man Blues

Impressionist Two-Step
It's Up To You
Steel Guitar Rag
Wild About My Lovin’
Tangled Hangers
Many Rivers To Cross
Riding With The King

Steve Kimock Band –10/28

A New Africa
Whack!
Baby, Baby
True Love Never Dies
Bad Hair Day
Footprints
Millionaire
You're The One

Cole's Law >
Tangled Hangers
High And Lonesome >
Manic Depression Jam >
Hillbillies On PCP >
Driving Wheel
Mr. Potato Head >
Big Yellow Taxi Jam >
Mr. Potato Head
Pete’s Blues
Five B 4 Funk
Hootenanny
E: Spitfire

The Ominous Seapods

by Streator Johnson

Living across the country from a band you want to see live can be a bitch. I live in Olympia, WA. About two and half years ago, a friend sent me a Dead show (2/23/74, if you're curious) with some filler by this band called the _Ominous Seapods_ (OSp). A few weeks later, I was out running with my walkman blaring when the first tune of the filler (_Blackberry Brandy_) came on. From that moment, I was hooked on this somewhat quirky and original rock band from upstate New York.

After a short search of the internet, I found Podnet, the unofficial mailing list of OSp fans. A wonderful amalgamation of mutants, music lovers and other twisted individuals. Naturally, I joined the mailing list. Through the good graces of the kind folks on Podnet, I soon amassed a wonderful collection of live shows which I listened to often.

The only thing left to do was to see the band live to confirm everything I had heard of, and, heard about, them. Unfortunately, I found out about them right AFTER they had toured the Pacific Northwest, so I would have to wait for the next tour. No problem. Then, disaster struck! Max Verna, lead guitarist/vocalist and one of the _Ominous Seapods_'s main songwriters, left the band. A major blow to any band, but to a band in OSp's position, one right on the edge of rising to the next level, a possibly fatal one. However, the remaining band members, Brian Mangini (keyboards), Ted Marotta (drums), Dana Monteith (guitar, vocals), and Tom Pirozzi (bass,vocals) rallied and asked the young Todd Pasternack to join the band on guitar and vocals.

This change in personnel, naturally change the sound of the band. Todd brought a, shall we say, more conventional edge to the band. Or at least as conventional as these folks can be. More straight ahead rock and roll, less theater and less incorporation of other genres into their music. Todd has a voice of his own, it took a little getting used to. But I was still getting tapes and it was clear that the band still had something to say.

Thus, I still wanted to see the band live. But, once again my chances were foiled when the next cross country tour was cut short for unknown reasons just as they were heading to the great Pacific Northwest (I suspect they had something to do with punishing me for some unknown minor infraction, though I know not what that might be). Then, instead of returning to the road after a short break and starting out west (like they should have) to make up the dates for their music starved fans (that being me), the band went into the studio to record their recently released _The Super Man Curse_ (get it, its great!). Foiled again!

Once the disc was released, there were rumors of possible shows and possible dates stretching way out to the Pacific Northwest, but I was convinced they were all vicious lies. They were never going come out here and I was doomed never to see this band live. But low and behold, one day, there appeared a Seattle date on the OSp web page (http://www.ominousseapods.com). Of course, it was the middle of the week, at a bar and the show started at 10:00 p.m. Not conducive to working folks like me, but I had been waiting for two and half year, I was going to that show come hell or high water!

So finally, the big day (or night actually) comes and I drive up to Seattle for the show. However, I must admit, as much as I wanted to go, deep down inside, I had plenty of fears about what I was about to see. I was afraid that I would be disappointed. That the show would not meet up to the enormous expectations I had as a result of two years of hearing about shows from you all and a steady listening to tape after tape. Tapes while in the car. Tapes while on the computer. Tapes while running. Tapes while mowing the lawn for heaven's sake. Could the reality of live music live up to that? I didn't know. But I was going to find out.

Anyway, I got to the _Tractor Tavern_ just before 10:00 pm and walked right in. The Tractor is a pretty good place to see bands. I have lots of fond memories of the place. The fact that the show was here was a good omen. Unfortunately, what did not bode well as the fact that there was only maybe 15 people there when I arrived. Severe bummer. By the time the show actually started, that number had increased to around 20 or so.

As I walked in, the band was on stage finishing up sound check (a variety of variations on _Led Zep_'s _Immigrant Song_). They were all bundled up and staring, somewhat forlornly, out at the sparse crowd. Once they left the stage, I took a seat and started reading, waiting for the show to start. About 20 minutes later they came out.

The moment of TRUTH. There I was holding my breath and hoping for the best. And you know, I really had nothing to worry about, because it was REALLY, REALLY GOOD! The sound was good, the band was good and the groove was good! I got a big smile on my face and it didn't leave for the rest of the night (my friend, who knew nothing about the band turned to me and whispered "It going to be hard to stand still for this." And he was soon up and dancing).

As I was grooving to the music, I noted several interesting things about the band. For instance, they were much more clean cut than I expected. I mean a band that does songs like _Mr. Blood_ and _Bong Hits and Porn_ shouldn't look so normal, relatively speaking. But hey! They look just like any old guys down the street. ;-)

It was clear that being on the road has helped them a lot. Live, they sound much different (read, better) than I have heard on the recent recorded shows I have post-Max. They seem to be playing well together, sounded tight, into the groove and having a whole lot of fun from the moment they started. And, maybe more importantly, they have a sound that is all their own.

There was a rather fun episode where there was supposed to be set break, but the boys just stayed on stage and chatted with folks in the audience. They talked about being in Seattle and asked questions of the audience, just about everyone there joined in and we all enjoyed that bit of performance theater. As a side note here, I think that we, the crowd (such that it was), worked hard making a lot of noise and urging the band on (pat on the back).

Finally, in spite of the fact that they had done a show in Missoula, MT two nights before and were in Moscow, Idaho the night before, and were probably a little tired, from the get go people, these folks seemed to be putting their whole heart and soul into the show just for us 20 folks. And they kept it going the whole show, much to my amazement and pleasure. Frankly, even if the music hadn't been as great as it was, that fact alone would have endeared me to the band.

All told, it was a GREAT show, if you have the chance, definitely check them out!

The Ominous Seapods 11/8/2000 Tractor Tavern - Seattle, WA.

ALL : Waiting For The Bomb > Good To Be Alive > Till Then > Imaginary Money > Tornado Rain, Jet Smooth Ride, Out Of Myself > For Now > A Guide to Roadside Ecology, In Good Time > Anything Is Possible, Lighthouse. No Encore

The Ominous Seapods

by John R. Zinkand

It was around 9:00pm in Portland, OR on Friday November 10th, and I had just walked in to the Space Room, a dank little bar across the street from the Mt Tabor Theater. This bar has some seriously low ceilings and some enthusiastic smokers as patrons. There are large murals of Portland area nature scenes on most of the walls accented by low-key amounts of day glow paint. These are highlighted by the blue lights casually shining down on them from above and tend to give off quite a "spacey" feel, especially the mural of planets and the vast cosmos by the bar . We grabbed some plastic covered chairs in the lower room of this hip establishment and tried to squint our somewhat smoke-irritated eyes to see one another. The music here is jukebox direct, and at that moment the loungey sounds of Sinatra seemed very appropriate.

The waitress brought us over a round of beverages. A Hop Jack Pale Ale for me and a signature Bloody Mary for my beautiful companion(Space Room has a reputation for damn good Bloody Mary's). We talked back and forth of how we had never seen the Ominous Seapods but had heard many great things about them from our east coast brethren. Most up-and-coming jam acts play at Mt Tabor, so we frequent the Space Room often as a place to gear up for the show(plus the fact that they have cocktails and not just beer like at Tabor). In fact, we were here just last weekend for some pre Project Logic beverages. The jukebox sounds shifted to 80's pop as I shifted my beverage of choice from beer to delicious jack-n-cokes. More friends arrived and everyone was becoming quite festive. Unfortunately, I was a struggling a bit to just tread the water of consciousness as a result of long work week, and the beverages weren't helping me perk up. It was soon decided that we should head across the street to catch some Seapod action.

We opened the doors of the Theater and were greeted by the door folks. After coughing up our cover charge, we treaded over the brown carpet up into the main room. The Mt Tabor Theater is a converted movie house. The main room is where two theaters used to stand side by side. They have knocked out the wall separating the two theaters, creating one large, high-ceilinged room. The right side is where the stage is set up currently, while the left side now has some steps down to pool tables. The screen is still on the wall in the back left side of the room, and I have seen various psychedelic images being projected there from time to time. No images danced up there this evening, however. There is also a smaller side theater where they have acoustic acts playing most nights.

The room was not packed with people, but there was a very respectable turnout for a band that has only rarely been spotted on the west coast. After we had cool pints of Sierra Nevada in our hot little hands, we set all sights on the stage as the Ominous Seapods were just now getting situated up there. A steady drumbeat kicked in the show with gusto as the house lights dimmed and the bright blues and whites of the stage lights gleamed down on the band. This initial tune had a funky, if not a little stiff, back beat going. I think the guys were just warming up and easing in to a night of music. Unfortunately, as they were getting comfortable with their on stage surroundings, I was getting progressively more sleepy.

The sound from the stage morphed into a rhythmic jam lead by the keyboardist who was tucked up into the left hand part of the stage. He layed down both rhythmic textures of sound and traditional keyboard solos until the groove simmered down. The vocals were not bad, but most of the songs seemed slightly predictable in their arrangement. The first few songs seemed like pretty standard jam band funk tunes with basic song melodies. Their songs were fair, but not the mind-blowingly unique sounds I had hoped would revive me from my sleepiness. I was making this observation known to one of my friends, when one of these standard tunes opened up quite a bit. The guitar player, who lacked in the hair department, started to really jam with some energy. I could tell the band was getting comfortable and was starting to settle in and get down. There were feedback sounds coming from the guitar while the steady beat of the drummer drove the jam forward. The keyboards textures and accents completed the sound and the guitarist started to really dig in and shred. The entire room was definitely starting to fire up and groove to these energized sounds coming from the stage.

However, as the room lit up I was running out of steam. The energy coming off the stage was not enough to wake me up. I dug the more intense jamming, but I still was not satisfied with the song writing. There were not enough interesting chord or time changes, vocal harmonies, or innovative melodies to get me where I needed to be that night. I knew that if I stayed a little longer my mind could possibly have been changed, but the grogginess overtook me and I had to head for home. As we drove through the night, I decided that the Ominous Seapods are definitely and act worth seeing. Their sound could be a bit more diverse, but these guys know how to jam. Next time they come through I will definitely try to be more awake. Maybe I should hit a coffee shop for pre-show warm-ups on Fridays for now on.

Let it snow!

by Gordon Wilson

I've been seeing a lot of music lately and have witnessed many incredible performances, The Steve Kimok Band, Project Logic, Sound Tribe Sector Nine, to name a few, but I have also seen some shows that felt a bit unenthusiastic. 

I know from experience that shows, gigs, happenings, love in's, the musical experience, etc. have many factors involved in their production and therefore are by their complex nature very relative.  What may be an earth shattering show for one person, may be ho-hum for the next.  A band may be tired or sick, or sick and tired, they may feel awful and feel like they played an awful show, but the tape sounds ok, and some people may even really like it.   A lot has to do with nutrition, proper rest, diet, and exercise but i'm digressing here.  Some nights though everyone agrees that things felt flat.  I have experienced many a flat night with a wide range of bands, which isn't always that bad of a thing.  Everyone seems to have the right intentions, it's just the band and the audience can't get it rolling.  Young bands or new bands seem to run into this more often than established mature bands for a number of reasons I think; less practice, less experience of success and failure, a more limited repertoire, etc..  Younger bands search for and find their voices, if they are really up for it and want to be real musicians.  New bands may feel a bit unsure of themselves, feeling like a ship being thrown about on the high seas, except it's really a young artist adrift in the stormy seas of the emotions.  And as sailors know, one must be strong and weather the storms, if you go off and hide fearfully or with anger and get drunk in the cabin your sure to be sunk!  One must be strong and supple like a brave captain facing his ship into the oncoming swells, and as an artist note what Charles Baudelaire states, "From the study of these admirable works there emerges this conviction: that in art one never goes to far, and he who thinks himself audacious is but timid; when you wrestle with nature like Jacob with the angel, you must use all your muscles, all your sinews, all your breath, your head, your heart, it is not too much.  When you face infinity, you cannot be excessive.  Ingres, Delacroix, Decamps... always went to the end of their faculties, overexciting themselves, spurring themselves on, trying to leap over the limit, and that is why they attained it."