By Jae-Ha Kim
Chicago Sun-Times
December 1, 1996
There isn’t a rock fan out there who hasn’t fantasized about hanging with his or her favorite band for a few days. So when I was offered the opportunity to hit the road with Dishwalla, who are on tour with the Refreshments and Tonic, I said, “Yes!”
I didn’t think it was going to be 100 percent fun all the time, but I also knew that thanks to the unions that regulate such things, I wouldn’t be allowed to lift any heavy objects. Heck. That’s a better deal than the MTV contest winner whose prize was to be a roadie for Bruce Springsteen.
I’ve done stories on enough musicians to know that many of them don’t like life on the road. And in my head, I’d write them off as whiners. After all, how difficult could it be to play for a couple of hours, sign some autographs and then ride off to the next city in your deluxe tour bus?
After spending a few days traveling with the California band Dishwalla, of “Counting Blue Cars” fame, I can say firsthand that perception and reality are about 180 degrees apart. For every moment of fun on the road, there are hours of sitting around and waiting. Time seems to stand still. (On my second day, touring keyboardist Jim Wood commented, not unkindly, “It seems like you’ve been with us longer.”)
When I got back home, I was thankful to sleep on a bed that didn’t move, eat fresh fruit and vegetables and use a normal bathroom.
I met up with the band in Pontiac, Mich., on Nov. 19 – five days after the quartet’s debut album, “Pet Your Friends,” went gold with 500,000 copies sold. By this time the musicians already had been on the road for 1½ years – and all but four of those months were spent in a cramped van. Now they have a modest tour bus with all the comforts of home, assuming that you sleep on a mattress the size of a tanning bed. So even though their per diem still is just $25, they’re traveling in relative style.
There’s a sitting area in the back with a CD player. Up front is a small dining area with a comfy sofa and a fridge stocked with beer, sodas and bottled water. A crock pot sits at one end, a skillet at the other. They belong to the driver, a big teddy bear of a man who goes by the name Heavy Duty. There’s also a TV and VCR. Videotapes of “Seven,” “Toy Story” and one of the “Hellraiser” flicks are nearby.
The sleeping area is in the center of the bus, with three tiers of bunks lining each side. This is where the band and crew sleeps. Hotels are for showering, not sleeping; the only person who actually sleeps in hotels is the bus driver. The band more often than not will sleep on the bus and then take turns showering in a hotel room at the end of the evening (about 2 or 3 a.m.).
There are 11 bunks total, each labeled with the name of the person sleeping there. My bunk was on the upper tier on the driver’s side, directly across from vocalist J.R. Richards. Tour manager David Steed wrote “Jae” on a makeshift label and taped it by my bunk, making me feel like one of the guys.
Steed is quite the tidy man. He has labeled the contents of all the cabinets, so it’s a cinch to find the cereal, tea and “cups and such.”
I kept a journal with me during my trip with Dishwalla. If Steed had seen it, he probably would have stuck it with a label that read: “On the road with Dishwalla and such.”
TUESDAY, NOV. 19
6:45 p.m. The band is doing its sound check at Clutch Cargo’s in Pontiac, and I’m having a difficult time paying attention to the music. I can’t take my eyes off the beautiful venue, which is in a converted church. Everything is so clean. I love it.
7 p.m. Guitarist Rodney Browning and I head back to the tour bus. The first thing that hits me is the spicy scent of potpourri. “Heavy is responsible for that,” he said. But Rodney says not to be fooled by the nice smell. “(This bus) is a petrie dish. Everyone’s been sick except for me.” He lets me taste this disgusting plum paste he insists helps him stay well. Amiable guitar tech Doug Falsetti, who has played with the Afghan Whigs, stops in to say hi. He looks like the love child of Eddie Van Halen and Huey Lewis.
7:30 p.m. There’s a pre-show party upstairs for Dishwalla. It’s pretty laid back and full mostly of radio people and hangers on. A 60-year-old woman tells me she teaches her music students to play Dishwalla songs on the guitar. One young woman from the local branch of Dishwalla’s label, A&M Records, is clinging to singer J.R. Richards. When he steps away to chat with someone else, she looks at her friend and says, “I think he really likes me.”
7:40 p.m. While their opening act, Tonic, does its sound check, various Dishwalla members head down to the dressing room. It’s huge enough to play a game of soccer.
8:20 p.m. Members of Dishwalla and Tonic hang out backstage. The Refreshments’ tour manager, Jim Swafford (who co-wrote the Gin Blossoms’ hit “Mrs. Rita”), just bought a new guitar and they’re breaking it in. Tonic guitarist Jeff Russo plays “Norwegian Wood.” J.R. and Tonic bassist Dan Rothchild sing along. No one except Swafford touches a deli tray. The rest are eating bananas and swilling orange juice and bottled water.
8:55 p.m. Rodney is back on the tour bus changing his shirt for the third time. The trendy black velour number he had on before has to go because his bandmates inform him that it smells.
9:15 p.m. We are joined by Bret, a pretty college student from Toledo, Ohio. She has been friends with the band since meeting them 1½ years ago on their first tour. J.R. is partial to her and gives her his jacket to wear.
10 p.m. It looks like a Seventeen magazine convention inside Clutch Cargo’s. The girls crushed against the stage are all in their mid- to late teens and throw crumpled notes at the band members. By the time they perform “Charlie Brown’s Parents,” the moshing is in full throttle. A huge bald guy begins body surfing on top of the girls’ heads. The weight is too much for them, and many of them are knocked down. Bret is knocked out.
10:30 p.m. I meet Danielle and Melanie, best friends since meeting at a Dishwalla show last year. They know everything there is to know about Dishwalla. “We’re like their younger sisters,” Danielle says.
10:50 p.m. Bassist Scot Alexander throws a bottle of water off stage. It lands on me.
10:55 p.m. Soaked, I head down to the dressing room. When no one’s looking, I scarf down a roast beef sandwich from the deli tray. It’s gross. I try a ham sandwich. That’s bad, too. Poor things. No wonder they’re so thin.
11:45 p.m. Everyone is sitting around backstage eating fat-free cookies made by David Steed’s girlfriend, Michelle. Scot talks about when he met former Echo and the Bunnymen vocalist Ian McCulloch 10 years ago. After finagling his way backstage, all Scot could think to do was give McCulloch a flier for his band.
WEDNESDAY, NOV. 20
12:20 a.m. Pizzas arrive for the band. J.R. places an ice pack on Bret’s head. I offer her Advil, but someone says that’s not good for head injuries. No one knows for sure, so we give her pizza instead. A cheeseless, tasteless veggie pizza arrives for J.R., who doesn’t eat dairy products when he’s touring. The rest of us dive for the pepperoni.
1:20 a.m. Scot tells me toilet paper isn’t allowed in the septic tank of the bus. I stop eating pizza and guzzling mineral water.
2 a.m. David starts rounding up the troops. We head for the bus and say goodbye to Bret, Melanie and Danielle, who will meet us in Chicago.
2:15 a.m. The band goes to the hotel to shower in shifts. Heavy says he’s going to cook dinner tonight. The band drools at the memory of his homemade cooking and promises me I’m in for a treat. I can’t wait.
3 a.m. We head out for Chicago. David tells me to sleep with my feet facing the head of the bus. It’s safer that way. J.R. stops by to say goodnight. His shorts reveal a huge gouge on his right leg from a fall from the stage a week ago. He also has a Pop Tart wound on his hand. Don’t ask. I climb into my bunk and curl up against the wall. It’s kind of cozy, but it’s also kind of claustrophobic, like being in a tanning bed. When the little curtain is drawn, you can’t tell whether it’s day or night.
9 a.m. There’s a 5½-foot drop from my bunk to the ground and I don’t have my contact lenses in, so I can’t see what’s down there. I jump. Luckily, some bottled water and shoes break my fall. Everyone is sleeping except for Heavy, who is bright-eyed and chipper. He shows me the groceries he bought a few hours ago with Bill, the Refreshments’ bus driver. We will feast on Brunswick stew and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches.
11 a.m. David wakes up and prepares for the day’s business. The band members come to life over the next hour.
2:15 p.m. The band performs and chats at WKQX-FM (101.1). They don’t make it to WRCX-FM (103.5) until 3, forcing them to miss a 3 p.m. sound check at Metro. The WRCX disc jockey is adamant that drummer George Pendergast looks like Country Dick from the Beat Farmers.
5 p.m. Except for J.R., who has to do phone interviews, the guys go shopping. Rodney buys a navy blue jacket at Strange Cargo on Clark. J.R. signs autographs for fans waiting outside Metro, where they will headline a sold-out show.
5:50 p.m. The snow and cold weather make it difficult to open the bus, which is unfortunate for me since my coat is locked inside. David calls a locksmith.
9 p.m. It is a festive atmosphere at Metro. Someone blows up balloons and sends them sailing. In the ladies’ room, a girl tells her friend, “That lead singer is so cute,” to which her friend adds, “He’s so hot!”
9:40 p.m. During “Counting Blue Cars,” a sprightly girl jumps out, does two cartwheels and tries to stage-dive her way to freedom. A security guard hauls her away.
10 p.m. The show is almost over. During a cover of Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love,” someone throws a bra onstage. J.R. throws it to George, who wipes his left underarm with it and hurls it back into the audience. Eeeewwwww! J.R. promises a snowball fight after the show with the bands and audience members. It never happens, though a few fans throw snow at the tour bus – until they see Heavy come out.
10:30 p.m. The Metro’s backstage area is crammed with people waiting to meet the band. We are joined by J.R.’s friend Kevin and the band’s manager, Dave Young.
11:40 p.m. The locksmith has gotten the bus door open. Word is out that Heavy is serving up his stew, so we scramble back to the tour bus to eat. It’s delicious. I grab my coat and don’t let go.
THURSDAY, NOV. 21
1:30 a.m. The guys head down to the Smart Bar to celebrate a little more. Around 2 a.m., the musicians go to their hotel for a shower and change of clothes.
2:30 a.m. A guitar company has sent J.R. a guitar and wants him to endorse it. The musicians flock to it and take turns playing songs by the Beatles, Oasis and Led Zeppelin. J.R. says he’s learning Cheap Trick’s “Surrender” so they can perform it live.
3 a.m. It’s time to roll for Milwaukee, but we can’t find Jim. David and I go to back to the Smart Bar, where I run into Tonic’s Jeff. It’s loud and we’re tired, and he thinks I’m asking him to dance. He politely declines. Whatever. David spots Jim in a photo booth and steers him toward the bus.
3:20 a.m. We head out of Chicago for Milwaukee. Doug, Jim and I are the only ones up. Doug pops in a bootleg video of Frank Zappa he just bought, and we watch that for a while. Hungry for a snack, Jim makes some instant lentil soup. Lighting technician Dan Weston comes out looking for fresh water and accidentally knocks over the soup.
5:30 a.m. We arrive in Milwaukee. While the band sleeps on the bus, I wimp out and check into the nearest Holiday Inn. I may have a ticket to ride, but what I really want is a key to a room.
Band members are more than just cute faces
Here’s the dish on Dishwalla. The four-year-old band hails from Santa Barbara, Calif., and like the stars of the defunct daytime drama “Santa Barbara,” the musicians are a photogenic lot. Not every band makes it into Sassy magazine’s “Cute Band Alert” column.
The musicians are road warriors who’ve toured for 1½ years to support their debut album, “Pet Your Friends.” Thanks to their radio hit “Counting Blue Cars” (“Tell me all your thoughts on God/’cause I’d really like to meet her”), Dishwalla has gone from opener to headliner. The record is good, but Dishwalla’s guitar-based music – which is equal parts Pearl Jam and Gin Blossoms – is best heard live. Vocalist J.R. Richards leaps around onstage, and the girls scream their approval.
About that name: The band used to be called Dish, but when an East Coast group with that moniker threatened to sue, they changed it to Dishwalla. (Satellite dish pirates in India are referred to as dishwallas.) But enough about that. Now meet the band and crew:
J.R. Richards, vocals, 29. Carries designer bandages on the road and needs them because he’s always getting hurt. Richards avoids sugar, chocolate, milk or any dairy products that could mess up his vocals.
Rodney Browning, guitar, 30. Appears to have the most extensive wardrobe. Wears Calvin Klein undies. Can wax euphoric for hours about the Edge’s guitar playing.
Scot Alexander, bass, 24. His bunk is plastered with photos of his wife (who was his childhood sweetheart) and two daughters. With his new short ‘do, he looks the most different from the album cover.
George Pendergast, drums, 28. Quiet but not shy. Never saw him without a hat on. He’s the only non-surfer in the group.
Jim Wood, keyboards, 27. The unofficial fifth Dishwalla, who is married, most likely will become a full-fledged member by the next album.
David Steed, tour manager. His actual height is a classified secret, but the meticulous Steed appears to be about 8 feet tall.
Doug Falsetti, guitar tech. Badger him and he’ll throw you a guitar pick or give you the band’s set list. He’s also one heck of a thumb wrestler who easily disabled Rodney and me.
Heavy Duty, bus driver. Newly married. Looks like a young Burl Ives. Easily one of the nicest human beings alive.
One thought on “She’s Got a Ticket to ride: Our music critic goes on the road”