Tour
2002
The
Greek, Berkeley, CA
Friday July 27, 2002
Mourning for Mikey
Is mourning about the other person
or about me? Tuesday I bought my tickets for the three Berkeley
shows. Wednesday I emailed Marcus to see if he was going to the
Berkeley shows. Thursday he said he had a review on Soberfans
called “Widespread without Mikey.” Without Mikey?
I’ve been concentrating on work and not on the email lists.
The Panic website hadn’t said anything last I looked. What
was he talking about? I had 10 minutes to find the review and
any news before I had to run for my train home. I found out enough—the
‘Message from Mikey’ was stark and honest—Mikey
wasn’t on the tour anymore and had terminal cancer.
I used to laugh at the Deadheads who
so worshipped Jerry. Amazed at the spontaneous trek of thousands
to San Francisco at his death. I saw the Dead maybe 30 times but
always near home and never a whole 3-day run. I was always amazed
Jerry kept truckin’ on with all his troubles and expected
his death years before it actually happened. I enjoyed the vibe,
but all the blue grassy stuff wasn’t my style. Then I found
Panic.
My generation. A rock base but with
the space-improv of the Dead. A unique electric guitar sound that
permeated the music that was both intense and subtle. Mikey is
my age. We both grew up on Black Sabbath. I met him once in Reno
after a show with another fan, just hanging out in the Casino
at the Hilton. He was showing us pictures of his new son, as smitten
as any new father, just like we were buddies of his. I gave him
a hard time about always looking down at his guitar. He took it
in good spirit and said people always told him that and that he
was getting better at looking up once in awhile. Totally nice
guy, totally humble.
I love the band, but for me a band
has a certain chemistry to wear that name. There are certain elements
that allow them to tour under that name. I saw “Gilmore
& Friends” and they called themselves Pink Floyd. I
saw Roger & Pete and they called themselves The Who. For me
the exploding drummers of Judas Priest never changed the band,
but Sabbath without Ozzie wasn’t Sabbath.
So can you be Widespread Panic without
Mikey? The crowd at the Greek last night would belie me, but I
say no. To me if you take Mikey or John or Dave away, it ceases
to be Panic. The songs may sound the same, the jams continue,
but the sustain isn’t sustained. You can’t replace
a founding member who’s been in the band for 17 years. Maybe
they want to continue, maybe Mikey wants to continue, maybe the
fans want them to continue. I remember the words of one of the
band’s biggest influences when that band lost John Bonham,
“We cannot continue as we were.” I’d go to see
any of them playing their own stuff or versions of WSP songs under
a different name. But as WSP they simply are not.
I know this isn’t the same situation.
They tried to finish the tour. Mikey is alive, but not well. This
isn’t like losing the band member who chokes on his vomit.
It is a weird vibe. Everyone is so happy. Most are probably quite
high. But their isn’t the frenzied dancing of the last Greek
shows, it is a bit more subdued. I tried to like it, I really
did. Dave was in full form, I had never seen Sonny so out-of-control,
the new guy played well, but I hardly saw his foot move except
to keep the beat.
I loved the way Mikey played. The insane
sustain was his trademark. He cared about every note. He’d
bend the string, and then bend it with the wah, and do it just
a little differently with the next note, then put a little soul
into the final note of that run by applying a little pressure
to the guitar body with his strumming hand. The notes hung in
the air behind the songs and gave them a sound no-one could duplicate
exactly. He mastered the jam-crescendo like no other, building
to one peak after another while the crowd was worked into a frenzy,
and then it was just another false peak as he built ever higher.
If he was really on fire he’d drift into another dimension
out of synch, yet totally in tune with the band, a cosmic echo
of sound as the note was fed back and forth from the amp to the
strings to the wah creating a surreal peak which caused heads
to explode (in a good way).
While the highlight of the night was
probably the Saxophone-space, I’m just not into rock-saxophone
as a rule. It takes over songs and changes the sound so much that
everything sounds like Bruce Springstein. After a few songs I
just wanted to stick a fork in my head.
How’s the new guy? A fine guitarist.
He did some space-stuff that really ruled, but he solos were rather
plain sounding even when they kicked ass. It was a little hard
to tell, as he was, as Mikey has been the last few years, way
too far down in the mix. Maybe he’ll work into his own,
but I don’t know. The highlight of shows for me was always
the long songs with the improvisational Mikey long, extended guitar
solos. They played three of them last night: Fishwater, Greta,
and Diner. They all fell flat. They didn’t even try to play
them Mikey-style, Fishwater even had a cool, new sound. But y’know
how Mikey’s guitar just hang’s in the air behind JB’s
vokes in that song? Wasn’t there. Y’know those multiple
lead breaks in Diner? Wasn’t there. Y’know that great
long solo at the end of Greta? Wasn’t there. Those were
what made WSP shows multi-orgasmic for me. There were no orgasms
in Mudville last night.
After those three songs I was emotional
mush, it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t even the band.
I know all the recovery stuff about change being the only sure
thing. I asked a guy at the table how he felt about it. He didn’t
answer my question but gave me this long speech about how change
is inevitable, about how we have to adapt, about what being open
to new things. I said, “That’s very philosophical
of you, but how do you feel?!!!”. “It really hurts.”
Finally, someone talking about it, finally some sharing letting
me know that I wasn’t alone in mourning in this crowd of
dancing monkeys. I don’t do change well, and philosophizing
that I should has never been the answer. For me, when it comes
I just have to feel the pain, feel the loss and deal with it as
my emotions carry me through.
Some knew. Some didn’t know.
Some were there to see friends. Some were so high a dancing monkey
could have replaced Mikey and they would have said it was a good
show. Pardon the graphic example, but for me it was like picking
up a woman who had all the same physical features of a woman you’d
loved and lost and trying to make love. You can go through all
the actions, even have a good time, but in the end you feel empty
and sad. The band I loved is no more.
What a cruel blow. I was just thinking
the night before while watching the brain-exploding Austin City
Limits show that the boys had been together for some time now
a six-piece and just kept getting better. Maybe they’d be
around for another decade and continue to be the center of my
musical jam life. Maybe it would continue on. We finally got our
Gateway tables, so long overdue. Dave playing better then ever.
The band gaining the recognition it deserves without playing at
the Phish-sized impersonal stadiums. It was all going so well.
I will not regret the times I blew-off everything to go see the
band. I have that philosophy that you never know when the last
time is going to be, and I always wonder what people are talking
about when they say, “I’ll catch them next time around.”
It’s too late for that now.
Mikey, I’m not very good a praying,
but I prayed for your health, your comfort, and the well-being
of your family the night I heard. Sure I want to see you play
again, but it’s more than that. I keep thinking about that
little boy in the picture in your wallet that you showed me in
Reno that night many years ago. I know you don’t remember
me, but that moment makes this more personal. Your message on
the website lets us know that this is real.
Some people think I’m bizarre
that I don’t follow sports like men are ‘supposed’
to. I don’t care, it’s just not in my blood. I realized
recently that I actually root for the musicians much the way sports
fans root for players. I like to see them pull off an amazing
solo, or put together a jam as a group that leaves skulls plastered
on the back wall of the joint. Mikey was always one of the best
to root for. Like any jam band some nights were better than others,
but I always rooted for Mikey to fall into that grove and send
my brain to Mars, and cheer him on: “You can do it Mikey!”
The high-point of this must have been last year at the Greek when
Carlos Santana came out for half the second set. Carlos pulled
a head-tearing solo on “Me and the Devil Blues”-and
then it was Mikey’s turn. I felt the butterflies as Mikey
started in—how could he pull this off following one of the
most acclaimed guitarists of all time blowing the crowd away?
Then Mikey proceeded to lead us through one of the most feeling,
bizarre, emotional solos I’d ever heard him pull. It wasn’t
as speed-searing as Santana’s, but it was everything Mikey
is made of and more. I had tears in my eyes as he worked towards
the Mikey-style crescendo and had the crowd cheering in musical
ecstasy. When it finished, Carlos took his hands off his guitar
and nodded and applauded slowly in genuine musical respect. That
was, and may be, the last day I saw Mikey play.
Today (Saturday) I drove to Berkeley
and sold my ticket to a grateful fan. I’ll check them out
again Sunday as I’ve already made plans with friends. But,
barring a much-hoped-for health miracle for Mikey, that will be
it for Panic and me, for a few years at least.
The realm of health and arts are not
set in concrete. All this is happening but the show is not over.
It isn’t all about the loss of my musical fix, and it isn’t
like that isn’t a big part of my feeling either. I have
noticed in grief people seem to feel they ‘should’
feel one way or they are being selfish. The truth is, acknowledge
how you feel and everything that you feel. To one degree or another
we all are feeling the loss of the music as it was. And we also
feel for Mikey and his family. It isn’t selfish to have
both feelings living within in, it is only selfish not to feel.
Love to you all,
Alan C. in Davis, CA
Rivergy, Inc.
