A Bowie Celebration - Present At The Creation

It's all the dude's fault. All hail the dude!

The dude is, of course, my son and constant companion Ian. The dude has been through four NAMM Shows (three in Los Angeles, one in Nashville, if you're counting), but this was the most memorable.

It was January 25, 2016, and to reward the dude and his mother for my rock 'n' roll and musical gear obsessions, I did what any wise general would do, I fed the troops. We drove up from Anaheim, where Ian had been amazed by the nightly fireworks from Disneyland, to another amusement park of sorts, Studio City.

Studio City is the bedroom capitol of Hollywood, the triple-A club to Mulholland and the hills, and it is where I started my LA journey back in 1984. That's when my obsession with all things rock and guitar devoured my life, and an off the cuff site-seeing visit to the Guitar Center grabbed me, and has never really let go. Guitar Center was a great conduit to the inner workings of rock, and it led to gigs with Bobby Womack, Iggy Pop, Michael Schenker, and others. It was always great to take a leave of absence from the day gig to join the circus. Those leave of absences were some great though all too brief adventures, and if I had to describe my relationship with Los Angeles, I would say that it has been a series of adventures, and one is always looking for the next big adventure, oui?

My wife Monica's favorite breakfast nook in America is Le Pain Quotidien, a classic Belgian-born café located on Ventura Boulevard near Coldwater Canyon. I knew that a morning's respite at Le Pain would go far in salving three days in a hotel with a toddler who wants to swing from chandeliers, and I was right.

Monica was calmly enjoying her goat cheese and mushroom omelet when the dude began to demand freedom from his high-chair, so I thought it best to venture with the boy onto Ventura for a stroll (I could show him where I slept my first night in LA, where I often breakfasted with Guillaume, and the hotel where Clark Gable chased nymphettes) to allow his mother to finish her breakfast and coffee in a bit of peace.

The boy and I had just stepped out the front door when I heard a voice say, "Hey... Tony!"

I was slightly stunned but more amused at being recognized more readily on Ventura Boulevard than my hometown. I looked to my right, and sitting in the warm January sun was Carmine Rojas.

Carmine, I knew from his days on the road with Joe Bonamassa, for whom Carmine served as bassist and musical director. We had met over a long and exhaustive interview in another café in another part of the world some years earlier, and I would occasionally see Carmine backstage at a Joe show, so he had also met Monica, but it had been a few years and I was most pleasantly surprised to hear his warm tenor beckoning me in Studio City.

He looked at me quizzically, and it took me a second to realize that the glance was directed at the two year old on my hip.

I introduced him to the dude, and told Carmine about our NAMM Show adventures. Knowing that Mr. Rojas had just left the employ of Mr. Bonamassa, I inquired as to what the always busy bassist was doing to while away his days.

"I'm just looking for my next adventure, if you hear of anything, give me a call."

We briefly discussed the death of his former friend and bandmate, David Bowie. Then Ian made known his displeasure at being stalled, so we took our leave, and I told Carmine that I would keep my eyes and ears open.

Carmine Rojas and myself on the road with Celebrating David Bowie in Santa  Rosa

I reviewed my show notes on the way back to Sacramento, and nothing came to mind. I hadn't had one of those midnight calls I occasionally get when someone is looking for an available musician or band situation. The only thing I was working on was instigated by another bass player, so I had nothing in the oven.

As usual, it was my wife who came up with my next great idea.

She said, "Why don't you gather up a bunch of guys who played with Bowie, and do some sort of tribute?"

I giggled at the obvious brilliance of her easily tossed off comment.

As soon as I got back to our home in Northern California, I got on the phone with my number one musical sounding board, Fabrizio Grossi. Fabrizio has worked with everyone and in every corner of the world, and he's as jaded as he is wise, so when you want to get down to brass tacks, you call Rock 'n' Roll Fab. He knows where all the bones are buried, and he knows what works and what doesn't. If you're looking to the west for the sunrise, he'll turn you around and set you right.

I told him about my meeting with Carmine, and Monica's mention of a tribute project.

Rojas, Grossi, and Conley at a Sidemen movie premier in Hollywood.

It was one comment that Fabrizio made that impressed me the most.

"You know, Tony, what you need to consider is not just a tribute show, it needs to be bigger than that. It needs something original, that was Bowie's whole thing, the originality."

Most importantly, he said it was a great fucking idea. He told me he'd ask around to his promoter friends to see if there was an interest. There was interest it turned out. A lot.

I had met Grossi some years before. I was doing a feature on Leslie West's excellent Unusual Suspects album, which Grossi had produced, and not being privy to liner notes, I contacted the producer to compliment him on a job well done, and to ask him who the bassist was that made such a thunderous rhythm section. It turned out to be Grossi playing the bass, and this was the beginning of a great friendship.

After our meeting, we would call one another anytime we were looking to fill some position or to get an introduction when necessary. We also worked together on several projects that were always intriguing, not the least being a yearlong effort to create an ethical streaming entity, but that's another story for another day.

Encouraged by what I had heard, I put on my thinking cap and I came up with a vision.

My vision was a David Bowie Alumni Tribute band with a twist.

I envisioned a band of Bowie alumni collaborating with a host of guest star vocalists led by a ringleader/MC of sorts.

Somewhat fittingly, I had posited our friend Michael Des Barres to serve as frontman and host. He was a contemporary of Bowie, but with no straight line connections to tether him to the legacy.

The cool part of the plan in my eyes was in the fact that this aggregation would not just cover Bowie classics, they would also write and record an album of original music. Part of that plan included filming the entire process for use in an ultimate documentary which would show the process of coming together to create and record an album, put on a show, and to present it all in a concert tour that would feature various singers singing both their original contribution plus a few Bowie classics to round out the show, all tied together by ringleader Des Barres.

Lunching at Le Pain with Des Barres and Breck Philip

I sent Carmine Rojas an e-mail, laying this prospective project out in detail.

He responded instantly that this was a great idea, and to begin contacting people and putting it all together.

First things first was to meet with Rojas and Des Barres to brainstorm this, and to see if we all fitted together.

It was back down to Los Angeles and Le Pain...

We had lunch, and it was a blast as we spoke candidly of all the characters to possibly be involved, and kicked around some concepts and ideas.

Some preliminary conversations were held, and various players expressed instant interest.

We doubled back on the phone several days later, and I still cherish my recording of that discussion for the mere enthusiasm of it all.

Talk of doing a documentary film instantly put our attentions on filmmaker Scott Rosenbaum, who was busy winning film festival awards for his superb rendering of legendary bluesmen in Sidemen: Long Road To Glory, which told the stories of Hubert Sumlin, Pinetop Perkins, and Willie "Big Eyes" Smith. That film started off as a Last Waltz styled concert film, but became a full blown feature when tragically, all three men died before the film saw its completion. While this was staggeringly sad, it certainly proved Scott Rosenbaum's mettle as both a storyteller and a man able to see difficult projects through to the end.

Scott Rosenbaum's Sidemen - Long Road To Glory

I contacted Scott and told him what was afoot. It so happened that he was to be in Los Angeles for a screening of his movie, so I drove down to meet the New York based director a week later.

We met on a cool Saturday morning at an empty Barney's Beanery, and he laid his trip upon me. What a trip it turned out to be.

Scott is to my mind, firstly, a great conceptualist, and his degree in journalism, along with histories in the White House and on Wall Street before his leaving the 9-to-5 world for an apprenticeship with Spike Lee had created a sharp mind for the narrative.

He laid out for me an amazing synopsis for a film that featured not just the gathering of great talents, the recording of an album of original music (which now would also include a bonus record with each guest vocalist singing a Bowie cover), and the filming of the band's first show (all to be put together in conjunction with the musical supervisor and producer of The Last Waltz), it now featured an additional element.

Page one of an early movie proposal

Page two of movie proposal with fictional aspect

It now contained an element of fiction featuring a Bowie-like wunderkind who is negotiating his way through life as a creative savant, and all the attendant difficulties.

This took me by surprise, but I shouldn't have been shocked at all. This is the beauty of collaborating with artists of vision, they tend to make everything better, and Rosenbaum's addition had taken this to high concept.

The film's title was to be, The Next Big Adventure.

It was never lost on us that Bowie's lasting legacy may have been that he did just that. He always looked to his next big adventure, even in death. The lessons of Blackstar were not lost.

It also required another set of meetings, and we again sat down at Le Pain for another lunch, and the filmmaker and the bassist hit it off wonderfully.

Around this time, I sent an e-mail of inquiry to Bowie pianist (and the man who spent the most years playing beside David), Mike Garson.

His return e-mail stated that it was simply too close to David's death for Garson to consider the path forward. He was, however, encouraging, and asked to be kept up to date on our progress.

Next came the most encouraging word we had heard. A major film studio with also great interest in the record business became very intrigued by the prospect of developing this project. They were all in on the concept, the characters, tours, albums, they loved the fictional aspect, in fact, they were smiling at every prospect.

Things were looking great, all very exciting.

Then things went silent.

This often happens when you are dealing with extremely busy, hard working talent. In a world in which momentum is everything, to lose momentum is to lose a deal.

And lose a deal we did.

Now at this point, I cannot stress enough that I believe in the idea that things happen for a reason, there are no accidents, and that the universe does not always see things quite the way we may like, it usually does what is best. A major que sera, que sera.

At some point in this, other deals were offered, other players became involved, and the Bowie Tribute tour turned into just that. I have no qualms or issues unresolved concerning this. I have no sense of bitterness or rancor, as what was supposed to happen did happen. At worst, I mourn for the fact that a lot of what I thought was most enthralling of our original concept went by the wayside, but that's just me being greedy and wanting to hear new and novel material and ideas.

To my mind, I am just really happy that the tours have been so successful, and that everyone involved has seen good things happen as a result.

Personally, I can walk away with the memory of the night that Scott Rosenbaum and myself went to meet with Carmine at Skinny's in North Hollywood, and we stood by as Carmine broke down our concept to a very excited Bernard Fowler. He then got up onstage and sang Bowie's "Heroes." Bernard said he wanted in at any cost, in any way, and subsequently he's done an amazing job as the de facto frontman of Celebrating David Bowie.

Fowler, Rojas, and yes, that is Clem Burke on the drums that night in North Hollywood.

I later had the great privilege of attending the band's first rehearsals and seeing Fowler sing it for the first time with the alumni band.

As it turns out, when all this happened, I most likely already had prostate cancer, and while it would be some time before I knew it, my health would not have allowed me to participate in what I had imagined and developed.

The universe knew I wasn't ready, that there would soon be other ways to service my muse.

I wanted to tell this tale because 1) it's a great story, and 2) it's a great lesson in having faith in the fates and the universe.

"You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you'll find, you get what you need."

My apologies to Messrs. Rojas, Grossi, Des Barres, and Rosenbaum for recounting this story without prior consent, but you all come out looking like the superstars you are, and your influence upon me continues to this moment.

If A Bowie Celebration comes to your area, don't miss it, it's truly just that, a celebration. My hat's off to everyone involved.

postscript: Someday, I hope the world hears the songs Des Barres brought to the table for this. They are remarkable glam rock wonders, and I still throw them on when I'm feeling a bit nostalgic.