WORDS: The stuff you never read about

“Let’s talk about rock, shall we?”

That’s a quote I’ll never forget.

A few months ago, I was working on a story about Nelson (the formerly popular ’80s pop metal band), which was scheduled to play at Penn’s Peak in Jim Thorpe. Gunnar Nelson called me for the interview, and after a brief introduction, those were his cheery words: “Let’s talk about rock, shall we?” It was pretty funny. Our staff writer Nikki M. Mascali found it even funnier than I did; it’s still scrolling as the screensaver on her office computer.

Last week I got to thinking about the funny little moments, the things that don’t make it into the paper because they’re not relevant to the article but would probably get a chuckle out of readers.

So, let’s talk about rock, shall we?

The Tony Trischka Wendy’s story

A few years ago I was doing a phone interview with Tony Trischka, one of the best banjo players ever — he was Bela Fleck’s teacher. He’s accomplished a lot in his career, but apparently that didn’t include going to Wendy’s. So as he was pulling up to a drive through, he asked me what he should get, and I told him the No. 1 value meal.

The Eminem Jimmy Herring story

As fans, we tend to think people in bands are into their own genres and nothing else. But most musicians love all different types of music.

I was reminded of that in 2002 after a Phil Lesh and Friends show in Hershey. I had done a few interviews with Lesh and covered several of his band’s shows at the time, and he was kind enough to put me on the guest list for this one. Afterwards, I got to meet his then-guitarist Jimmy Herring, who is now with Widespread Panic and has been one of my favorite players for a long time. We got to talking, and he said that I should come out to the next night’s show in Camden, N.J. I told Herring that I would if I could, but I would be reviewing the Eminem show in Scranton instead.

As I was walking away, I said, “Unless you sit in with Eminem, I won’t see you, so take it easy.” Herring turned around, laughed and said, “Em and I are real tight.” He was kidding, but we both realized we really liked the rapper’s at-the-time new song “Without Me.” We couldn’t think of the title, but we both ended up singing a few lines. I’ll never forget singing an Eminem song with a virtuoso who’s been a member of The Allmans and The Dead.

The almost-punching Railroad Earth’s drummer story

Murray’s Inn in Wilkes-Barre was a smokin’ little venue — I know, awful pun — in the early ’00s, especially if you were into jam bands. Derek Trucks, Uncle Sammy, Townhall and a moe./Cracker side project all came through that room, some of them several times. One of the biggest draws was Railroad Earth, which has since gone on to become a pretty big deal. One night, I was working on a story about bluegrass and bluegrass-influenced bands, and I did an interview with a few of the RRE guys in the front of the venue before the show. When we were done, I wasn’t working anymore, so I had a few drinks and watched the show.

Afterwards, I was sitting at the bar with drummer Carey Harmon. Nice guy, good drummer. But I couldn’t help but notice that he was wearing a Mets cap, and as a Yankees fan, I had to say something. I don’t remember what I said, but like I mentioned, I had been having a few drinks. I may or may not have questioned Mike Piazza’s romantic preferences. I’m not sure. Things got a little heated, but we simmered down and everything was cool.

The Nikki stepping on Bob Weir’s foot story

This might be the best of the bunch. Last April Fool’s Day, I went to the Sherman Theater in Stroudsburg to review a Ratdog show. Our aforementioned staff writer Nikki came along, as did my good friend Todd. It was a beautiful spring day. The most memorable part of the show for me was during “The Other One,” when bass player Robin Sylvester played a flurry of rumbling notes that shook the building. It still gives me chills when I listen back to the recording.

But something else memorable happened. Afterwards, I was hoping to introduce Nikki and Todd to Bob Weir, the legendary singer and guitarist from the Grateful Dead and the main man in Ratdog. I had met him a few times previously, and he was always pretty funny and laidback. He also sometimes stays ensconced in a private dressing room while the other band members mingle backstage, so you never know. On this night, we were in luck. Bob was hanging, talking and posing for pictures. I went up to him, and we had a laugh about one of his interview quotes that got me into hot water at a previous job. He cordially met Todd and Nikki, and when we moved in for a picture, Nikki promptly stomped on his Birkenstock-clad foot. I don’t think he even noticed.

But we did.

And when it’s time to talk about rock, it’s always a great tale to tell.

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