2002 – Music Mania

The New Year was marked with a sense of unknown energy, some exciting and some sad. New musical frontiers lie ahead of me and simultaneously Modus Tollens seemed to be losing its spark to continue. Jason Hills, who was by then acting as my manager, sent out an email with some announcements. It said that Modus Tollens was “taking a break to audition singers”. It then mentioned some of my upcoming solo gigs at Bar B in Manhattan and my upcoming first gig with the Stone Temple Pilots tribute band Plush. 

When at the end of December, my buddy Dave Z approached me about filling in the bass spot for his Stone Temple Pilots tribute band, Plush, I was hungry to collaborate with people who were fired up about playing and performing and jumped at the opportunity. Plush was a group that consisted of Dave Z on vocals, Paulie Z on guitar, Tony Cortes on drums, and currently a vacant bass position. I was “thrown into the fire” for this audition. Since Dave was well-aware of my playing capabilities, I kind of knew it was less of a musical audition, and more of a “can you hang with us?” trial by fire. I had never experienced such work-ethic and determination in a group of young guys before. Holy crow, wow! I did my best to learn maybe 15 songs in a few days’ time before a big show at the legendary Brooklyn rock club L’amour. I was intimidated and excited. Dave Z was both the best bassist and the most professional peer I had ever encountered. I would soon learn that his brother Paulie Z’s professionalism and talents were on par with Dave. To add to the intimidation factor, they had more ambitious drive than I did in terms of being recognized and successful in the world at large. They were also a few years older, so I felt like the younger brother trying to catch up. Whereas up until that point I was generally the most focused, determined, and well-rehearsed musical force in any band I had been in, I could clearly see that I was no longer swimming in my customary pond. I was now in a big lake or possibly a strong river rushing towards the ocean. I was uncomfortable and having a blast!

On the afternoon of Saturday, January 5^th, I showed up to the apartment of Paulie and Tony. This was my second rehearsal with Plush. I had believed that I ran a tight ship in rehearsals with the bands I’d been involved with. My version of “a tight ship” was nothing compared to Dave and Paulie’s version[1]! Especially Dave. He was a perfectionist when it came to learning music and even more so when performing it live. I was shocked at Dave’s uncompromising vision of greatness. Paulie would also chime in on achieving greater mastery of each song and our performance manner. During a few songs, in particular the song “Plush” itself, drummer Tony was drilled by the Z brothers in playing the song at the correct slow and even tempo. I was not only surprised by their level of seriousness and Tony’s willingness to try and match their vision, but also at how slow the correct tempos of Stone Temple Pilots’ songs were. Of course, it was sometimes my turn to receive the strict brotherly love of the Z brothers as they constructively and directly criticized my bass parts. I knew I was a solid player, yet I readily recognized Dave as the bass master. It was from him that I learned how to play bass like a bass player and not like a guitarist. After rehearsal we broke for dinner. It was Chinese takeout. I was astounded as to how quickly and ravenously all three of these assertive and confident males gulped down their own food. Then I sat nervously as they then began to ogle my food like circling wolves as I was still only halfway done. “Are you going to finish that?” each of them would ask in turns. “Yes, I am” I muttered with diminishing confidence. I was beginning to lose my appetite. Inevitably my leftovers were devoured by the waiting wolves.

We took a break after dinner to hangout and relax before the big show that night. L’amour was only a short ride from their apartment. We went on about midnight and put on a highly energetic performance. There was a sizable and enthusiastic crowd. They loved us! Dave, as lead vocalist and entertainer, put on a true performance. While he needed a minute to recover after the show, he was no party pooper and the after-show shenanigans continued well into the dawn, I am sure. As for me, I found a group of my friends and hung out with them until late in the morning where I found myself at Kitty and Vicky Davis’ place in Bayridge.

In between regular solo gigs I was back in Bayridge on February 6^th with The Twilite Zone “Blues” Band[2] for a night of rousing power trio blues rock.

Being in Modus Tollens had been a real treat in many ways. It gave me an outlet for testing out my songwriting skills within the unique dynamic of a pop-rock band. It gave me something to promote, a chance to perform live, and something fun to look forward to in contrast to the tamer reality of college life and the fragile often unharmonious relations in my nuclear family. The Modus Tollens experiment assisted in my development as a songwriter, guitarist, singer, performer, and team player. It gave me public exposure and confidence which helped to naturally attract guitar students. It gave me the enjoyable experience of recording a few “official” demos. I experienced the joys of rehearsing and working in studios as a band. I also deepened some friendships. All of this was great training for my life, and I had created fond memories. 

In addition to all of the genuine benefits and great aspects of being in Modus Tollens there were inevitably some down sides. Rehearsals cost money. Some guys were more into it than others. Dedication varied from week to week. While for some time we did have a fairly steady rhythm of one or two rehearsals a week and perhaps one or two gigs a month, I do not feel that we had a very strong work ethic nor clear vision as a band. We had very little in the way of merchandise besides our two demo recordings that we handed out free to friends and fans. We never made T-shirts or stickers. We did not approach record labels or managers and barely mingled with other fellow bands. We did not play any festivals or anything like that. Point being, while perhaps some of us may have entertained notions of “making it” with this band, the makings for such a career-spanning group were simply not there.

The most distressing part for me about Modus Tollens was the “democratic / equality” factor. While we all had equal say in the band, we did not truly share equal responsibilities nor dedication. This imbalance ultimately proved unsustainable. The slow and arduous decision-making process was putting a damper on my spirits. In our second year as a band, Modus Tollens was a sextet. So, five guys could agree to move forward with an idea, and one guy could blow it to bits and there we were again stuck in the mud, going nowhere fast. Inevitably we would only be able to do as much as the least inspired of us would allow.

By mid-winter Modus Tollens gasped its last few breaths as one person quit after another, a sort of domino effect of lost interest in continuing to spend time together in that configuration any longer. It was fun while it lasted, and we did indeed create some excellent music and memories together. Better to let it go than try and kick a dead horse. However, I was not letting up at all with my own musical activities and development.

Jason and I did a scratch recording session of the songs we had narrowed down for my second solo album tentatively titled Traveler[3]. It was just acoustic guitar and voice. We had fun at these sessions which comes across during silly moments in the recording. The general plan was to do another bunch of acoustic-guitar-and-voice tracks. A few things were becoming clear. I wanted to record songs that were more uplifting (than those found on Brooklyn Folk)and to include a shorter list of tunes (Brooklyn Folk had 19 tracks) which we could strengthen into a solid all-around album. However, moving forward with this sophomore album was not yet a priority.

I was beginning to seriously entertain the idea of running my own John Henry Sheridan band. I would assemble groups of players around my original songs and some covers testing out this possibility. If I was clearly the leader, then I could steer the band in a direction that made sense to me. The flipside of this reality was that all the burden would fall on just me. And that meant all concerns: scheduling, financing, booking, rehearsing, organizing, not to mention honing my own craft as songwriter and musician. And all this on top of various other responsibilities as a student, guitar teacher, participant in other bands, not to mention a social and family life. Can I do it? I’m not sure, but maybe yes.

I was amidst a regular gigging schedule alternating between Bar B (Manhattan) one week and Wicked Monk (Brooklyn) the next. I would regularly extend invitations out to many local musician friends and acquaintances. 

While handing a fellow musician a flyer I’d say, “Hey, I have a gig coming up, you’re welcome to bring your instrument and hop up onstage with me, And if not this time, maybe next week?”

So, from week to week there would be a rotating cast of characters. Among others there might be Jeremy Batchelor (bass), Cathal Murphy (drums), Misha Korosty (harmonica), Kane McCollum (guitar and voice), Dave Z, and Paulie Z. The core members tended to be Konstantin Medyuk (bass), Bob Henson (drums), and Aftab Motoyama (saxophone and percussion), but people could only make it when they could.

Playing so often, it was easy to get bored of songs, so I made it a point to try and incorporate one new song a week. Some of the cover songs in regular rotation were Elton John’s “Daniel”, “Your Song”, and “Rocket Man”, Billy Joel’s “New York State of Mind” and “You May Be Right”, Nirvana’s “In Bloom”, Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song”, Cat Stevens’ “Wild World”, Neil Young’s “Needle and the Damage Done”, America’s “A Horse With No Name”, and some evergreen classics by Bob Dylan, “Blowin’ In the Wind” and of course “Knocking On Heaven’s Door”.

On Friday March 1st, we had a Plush rehearsal in the afternoon. After which I treated myself to a gin and tonic at an open bar, while feeling self-conscious about being the only drinker amongst three non-drinkers. We then went out to eat Chinese (I learned to eat quicker around the waiting wolves) and headed over to Bar B for one of my acoustic gigs which the Z Brothers were joining me onstage for. The show was quite exciting having them in it. These guys had enormous charisma, magnetism, talent, and vision. Unsurprisingly, I felt that inevitable pull into Z Brothers world and away from my own musical vision. Collaborating with them was its own thing, they were no side men. Among other songs, we played Phil Collins’ “Another Day in Paradise”, Allman Brothers’ “Midnight Rider”, and some of my originals.

There was another acoustic collaboration gig with the Z Bros on April 22^nd at Freddy’s Backroom in Prospect Heights. Although it was sparsely attended, it was an amazing moment for me to play to an intimate audience with my pals at a bar that my grandfather (John Francis Sheridan) bartended in for years. Also, Mom, Eileen Galligan, and Henny (Mom’s cousin from Norway) were there which made it personally meaningful. We played a cover of Alice in Chains’ “Down In A Hole” to pay respects to their recently deceased lead singer Layne Staley. Afterward, I jumped into Dave’s low-riding black sports car. We had a big physics exam the next day and desperately needed to study. I hung in there until about 4am before passing out. Dave was still going strong with his friend tutoring him on the phone! Dave treated me to breakfast at a small coffee shop in the morning before heading to Brooklyn College. The physics test was terribly difficult, but despite low grades we still passed thanks to a generous bell curve. 

The following week I had an afternoon gig with my Acoustic Collective at the Brooklyn College Library Café. Band members that day were Kane McCollum, guitar and vocals; Bob Henson, bongos and vibraphone; Aftab Motoyama, tenor saxophone; and me, guitar and lead vocals. Dave Z stopped by but didn’t play that day. Our set included covers of Elton John’s “Your Song”, Smashing Pumpkins’ “1979”, Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song”, Billy Joel’s “New York State of Mind”, the blues standard “Key to the Highway” as well as my originals “Traveler”, “Brooklyn”, and “Opinions”. My name was getting out around campus and other opportunities popped up for me to perform as an acoustic singer-songwriter. My Acoustic Collective performed at the Senior Picnic on the Upper Quad on May 8^th. The band that day featured Kane, Bob, Aftab, and this time Dave Z joined on bass. On another similar occasion, I led a power trio by the Brooklyn College sports fields with Cathal Murphy on drums and Konstantin Medyuk on bass.

In addition to the guitar ensemble, I was still an active member in the Brooklyn College jazz ensemble. On the evenings of May 7^th and 8^th I participated as a bass player in the Brooklyn College Conservatory Jazz Ensemble Concerts. Still honing my chops on bass, I enjoyed playing tunes by the likes of Charlie Parker, John Coltrane, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Miles Davis, and Wayne Shorter. 

There was a gig at the Bayridge bar Johnny Pumps on May 25^th with the Acoustic Collective. This group, while still not a solid lineup, was feeling more like a band and I was in the process of coming up with a proper band name. Somehow this event featured a larger-than-usual group: Jeremy Batchelor (bass), Misha Korosty (harmonica), Aftab Motoyama (sax), Bob Henson (drums), Cathal Murphy (drums), Mark E (guitar and voice), and me (guitar and voice). Mark E sang on two new songs in the set list: The Black Crowes’ “Hard to Handle” and Radiohead’s “Black Star” offering my voice some appreciated relief. In an effort to stand out as one strange dude I wore a tight Care Bears T-shirt on my slightly rotund figure paired with sunglasses that had one glass missing. Hey ladies, check this out!

After Modus Tollens folded, there was some space between Dave Evans and me. It wasn’t long however before Dave E knocked on my basement window one day with an idea. 

“I have a proposition.” he said getting my attention.

Skeptical but intrigued, “And what might that be?”

Dave E and I had a knack for having lots of fun together and I really enjoyed our musical chemistry. Yet, I didn’t want to agree to something that I wasn’t truly interested in. Nor did I want to get my hopes up for something cool only to have him lose interest shortly after.

Dave E continued, “How about trying a new and simpler band configuration with more of a hard rock sound?”

Going heavier and simpler were both very attractive prospects to me. He had a bass player in mind, Niles Kouros. And he knew just the right singer as well. There was a mutual acquaintance from high school who had been a big supporter of Modus Tollens and who happened to be a musician and good singer in the pop-rock genre – Greg Danetti. I recalled how I had wanted to work with Greg when he auditioned as a vocalist for Modus Tollens in 2000 and had felt disappointed that it didn’t work out. Dave E was now suggesting we go directly to Greg and ask him to join this new rock quartet right from the get-go. It sounded like too much fun to pass up. 

I took a deep breath and said, “Alright, sounds good. Let’s do it.”

In June, Dave Evans and I met with Greg for a meal at the local Nick’s Lobster Dock restaurant and presented our proposition to him. Greg was excited by the idea and soon came to my BASEment apartment where we had our first songwriting session. It was productive and we had some material we could present to Dave E and Niles when we all met in the studio for the first time a few days later. In the absence of an official band name, we called ourselves Gravyboat. At least until we could think of something better.

By the summer John Henry Sheridan’s Acoustic Collective was beginning to jell into something a bit more definite. After toying around with various band name possibilities (The Glass Children being a runner up), I settled on the name Pencil People[4] and the participating musicians agreed it was cool with them. Thanks to the trail blazed by Modus Tollens, Jason and I still had the connection at the Elbow Room which we used to book some Thursday night shows in their side room. On July 11^th we shared a bill with Bob Henson’s fusion sextet Mindgasm. This was the premiere performance under my new band moniker John Henry Sheridan and The Pencil People. The promo email read, “… Pencil People will be putting interesting spins on my own acoustic originals and popular classics such as Sabbath’s ‘Paranoid’”. Since the band members were in flux and rehearsal time was difficult to come by, I was focusing on creating original songs and choosing covers that were very easy to put together yet still quite enjoyable to play and listen to.

After a month or two of rehearsals Gravyboat invested in a two-track live recording at Electric Plant[5], in early August. This first recording showed a lot of promise with the development of this new hard rock alternative outfit. It also showcased my overenthusiasm as a background singer. Ok Johnny Boy, maybe relax a bit with the energy of the background vocals and focus on singing in key!

The following week I went on a week-long trip to San Francisco with Jack Longman. Jack and I hadn’t played music together since Klockwerk dissolved in October 1999, yet our friendship continued. This was especially good since we were neighbors and had to see each other frequently anyway. Throughout our long relationship, which stemmed back to the age of five when I moved onto East 35^th Street in 1986, we had many adventures in both real life and in our imaginations as we dreamt up cool things we could possibly do “one day”. One of our collective dreams was to travel. After two trips abroad without a parental presence (1999 and 2000), I was feeling more confident about booking travel to distant places. I naturally wanted to travel more and taking a trip with Jack was a natural evolution. We had a fun, if not low-key time of it. We walked around aimlessly and decided to see the new science-fiction horror thriller Signs. We walked on the Golden Gate Bridge, took a trip to Alcatraz, and visited the culturally historic Haight-Ashbury district. To save money, our motel was about a one-hour bus ride away from the city center. During these morning bus rides into the city, I listened to the recent Gravyboat recording session on my Sony Walkman cassette player. Beyond the obvious imperfections, the sound was very good, the band was getting tight, and the energy was quite enjoyable.

Also in August, my original music supplied the soundtrack[6] to a play appearing in the Fringe Festival NYC called The Prince Is Back. The show enjoyed six performances at The Kraine Theatre in Manhattan’s Lower East Side. At 21 years old I was proudly blooming as a composer as well as a rock guitarist, classical guitarist, and bassist. My guitar teaching was also enjoyable and allowing me to pay my way.

John Henry Sheridan and the Pencil People performed at the College of New Jersey’s September 11^th Memorial Event. That afternoon I borrowed Mom’s brown Oldsmobile Cutlass Cierra and drove us four core Pencil People out to Ewing, NJ. The car was abustle with joking around and since the radio was not functioning, we entertained ourselves by singing and otherwise making music with our mouths. At the event there were several performers, and the tone was geared towards remembering 9-11. Performances ranged from somber to reflective, patriotic to resilient. For our performance, we gave it our all and played a musical and heartfelt abbreviated set. We ended with a powerful rendition of the song “Anthem”[7] which I had written as a response to 9-11.

A week later The Pencil People performed outside the Brooklyn College Student Union Building (SUBO) to an audience in the street. Lineup was Bob, Aftab, Dave Z on bass, and me. With slicked back hair, I wore an American flag scarf about my neck and a clip-on periwinkle bowtie on my sleeveless black T-shirt. The other guys looked cool.

I hosted a Halloween party in my BASEment apartment. Various people from different branches of my life gathered. It was very fun to have a variety of my peeps altogether at my place. Horror movies played on the TV, there was plenty of candies, chips, and alcohol. Most were dressed up. Costumes included vampires, Axl Rose, wild 80s rocker-dudes, nerds, and others.

As part of the Brooklyn College Conservatory of Music scene, many of us were involved in performing at events around campus. Throughout my time at Brooklyn College, I played and got paid for many of these performances, providing background instrumental music. Sometimes I played alone and sometimes teamed up with others. My friend Kane McCollum and I put a guitar duet together for some of these background music gigs. We even got around to doing a demo recording[8] while we were at it down in The BASEment.

Gravyboat performed our first gig two days after Christmas at The Elbow Room[9]. We rocked out pretty hard and started collecting signups to our mailing list straightaway. I wore a slightly odd dress suit which I had picked up at the Salvation Army. It looked like something Steve Martin would have worn in the 70s and I also wore it at Plush gigs sometimes. Larisa Vasilakis’ sister Victoria was visiting from Europe, and I met her for the first time that night. In just a few days Larisa, Victoria, and I were set to travel to Florida together with Kane McCollum to stay at his parent’s place for a few days.

The plan for New Year’s Eve for my friends and I was to attend the party of female Japanese friend Ritsuko at her apartment on Cortelyou Road. Alfred Major, Judd Diamond, Jason Hills, and Marco Baranov were all in attendance amongst others. Ritsuko was a good friend of Kitty and Vicky Davis and had become our friend too. Amongst the debauchery we joked around and at some point, I found myself outside on a small roof area. I was buzzing from various drinks and cheerful New Year’s energy. A part of my soul was feeling quite lonely at the time, yet as I gazed out upon the bustling Cortelyou Road, I marveled at the promise of the coming new year of 2003. Who knows what might lie in store?