Notes From The County Fair Circuit

I worked in radio for nearly a decade, at student run radio station, non-commercial public radio and at tradition commercial radio outlets. The experience was mostly enjoyable, but there was plenty of frustration too, typically centered on the arena of low pay which is a problem that continues to be echoed among radio employees to this day.
With that being said, I left radio in the mid-90’s for purely economic reasons.
Meaning: I was tired of living paycheck to paycheck.
During the time I worked in radio, there were opportunities to converse with artists that were shelling their latest effort. These interviews were typically met with enthusiasm or reluctance depending on the band or artist. In other words, for every Mike Watt interview, there were at least two unknown acts (Animal Time anyone? How about Zane Grey?) for you to spend time with. Nothing against them; sometimes the interviews were a blast (Zane Grey, a band from Texas in the late 80’s, were great guys, only to fold under the insurmountable weight of trying to build an audience), but there’s a limited amount of questions you can ask a band with only one album under their belt and a few dozen fervent fans from their hometown.
Those dynamics change when you get an opportunity to interview artists who’ve seen better days and even better sales figures.
The last radio station I worked for had a pair of chuckleheads for the General Manager and Program Director positions who also happened to run a yearly summer event called “Riverfest.” Riverfest was a weeklong celebration of shitty carnival attractions and national bands enjoying success on the county fair circuit. Since the station was a primary sponsor of the event, we got exclusive access to bands like Foghat, Nazareth, and other acts with more than a decade gone since their last notable release.
The weekends for Riverfest typically included artists that were on the county fair circuit for the first time in their careers. What that meant was, instead of more than a decade plus since the last notable release, these bands may have only seen 6 or 7 years pass since their last chart entry.
Here’s some behind the scenes memories of those brushes with “greatness.”
CHEAP TRICK-Cheap Trick has been known to play anywhere and they’re still notorious roadhogs to this day. When the band played Riverfest, they were on the road down their second career freefall, a few years after their last major chart entry with Lap Of Luxury. Unfortunately, I was not working at this particular station during their Riverfest stop, so all I have to offer is second and third-hand information from the people working the festival. According to these sources, the band was uncharacteristically smug, giving the perception that they were too important to be playing in such a small town. Several of the organizers claimed the band was under the influence of drugs (the consensus was cocaine) and that a contract rider disputes almost caused the band to boycott the performance. One of the Riverfest members threatened to impound Cheap Trick’s equipment if the band failed to make their end of the bargain. The band performed with no additional issues. As a fan of Cheap Trick, I found this information disheartening, but can share with you that most of the organizers of Riverfest were notorious drunkards and could barely run a radio station let alone a week-long music festival. I’ve taken the criticism of Cheap Trick with some serious salt.
R.E.O. SPEEDWAGON-Missed this one too, but for reasons which may bewilder the average reader. This band was the most successful performance that Riverfest ever had, drawing a record crowd of 16,500 people for the show. That figure was 4,500 more people than the town’s population and, incredibly, came well after the band’s heyday. The show sold out, and the idea of fighting the crowd and summer heat to see a band that I don’t give a shit about prompted me to stay at the station and smoke pot with my girlfriend who also worked there during the evening shift. Reports were that Kevin Cronin was a douchebag, but he later referred to the event in the band’s awful The Second Decade of Rock & Roll 1981-1991 liner notes as some kind of triumph.
? & THE MYSTERIANS-Poor Question Mark. He recently lost his possessions in a fire, but I doubt the setback will slow him down. Even in the early 90’s, he continued to participate with the oldies-circuit, providing the crowd with not one, but two stabs at “96 Tears.” Now I’m a fan of that song, and I’m a fan of Question Mark’s well documented weirdness. What I’m not a fan of is a man in his fifties getting ready to go on stage in gold lamé pants…with ragged looking tighty-whities visible above the back waistband. Question Mark pranced as good as Mick Jagger on stage, but every time he shook his ass for the crowd, the underwear took center stage.
NIGHT RANGER-It was a rainy night on the Mississippi riverfront, which meant the attendance for this particular show was unusually light. Escaping the rain in the band’s trailer, I had a chance to talk with guitarist Brad Gillis and drummer/vocalist Kelly Keagy. Now understand, I could give a Ratt(s) ass about Night Ranger, as a matter of fact, the band was so disrespected in my metal loving hometown that many of the metalheads referred to them as “Night Scrounger.” I’m sure Gillis and Keagy understood that I really could care less about them, but they endured my small talk. Some example questions include: (To Keagy) Isn’t it hard to drum and sing at the same time? (To Gillis) What’s Ozzy like? (To Gillis) How did you make that double guitar sound in the solo of “You Can Still Rock In America?” (To Keagy) So what happened to the dude that always wore the hat and a pair of shades? In case you’re wondering, that man (keyboardist Alan Fitzgerald) used to play with Montrose and, because of his history with Sammy Hagar, had scored a gig playing off-stage keyboards for the Van Halen tour. Both Gillis and Keagy sounded a little jealous that the old bald dude from Night Ranger was making more than they were. Both guys were very cool and seemed genuinely passionate about their performance even while the rain continued to fall throughout the set.
EDDIE MONEY-What the fuck? Eddie Money?! To confess, I vaguely remember thinking that his “I’m not doing cocaine anymore” effort, No Control, wasn’t that bad. It had “I Think I’m In Love” and some song about passing by the graveyard. I also knew that he was discovered by Bill Graham who had recently died a few days before the phone interview. He called the station because we were one of the first to play his last chart entry, “I’ll Get By,” a sappy by-the-numbers ballad that barely dented the lower throngs of the American top 40 in 1991. So the entire interview consisted of me talking to him about his prior cocaine addiction and what a good guy Bill Graham was. He then did a couple of station liners (“You’re listening to the river cities music leader…”) where he referred to himself as “The Moneyman.” Call me naïve, but I never knew Eddie Money had a nickname prior to hearing that.
MOLLY HATCHET-These Southern rockers came to town and every slack-jawed Southern rock fan came out of the woodwork to get drunk and party with the Hatchet. The late Danny Joe Brown got drunk with them, but after years of hard drinkin’ and hard rockin,’ he didn’t miss a beat during the entire show. When it came time for him to do a couple of station liners afterwards, a drunk Danny Joe completely botched the call letters and names of radio personalities. While I returned to the station to piece together his mistakes, the band tried to make off with all of the beer backstage. I will forever have this mental image of a drunken Molly Hatchet returning cooler after cooler of beer with their tails between their legs before being allowed to leave the festival grounds in their tour bus. If you try to steal beer in Southeast Iowa, you’re flirtin’ with disaster.
ELVIN BISHOP-A complete douchebag. He made the circuit based on a hit ("Fooled Around And Fell In Love") that he didn't even sing on. I was familiar with his Alligator Records output and at least was prepared for the good-time blues show that he gave the crowd. It was actually pretty good, even when the crowd wondered why he didn't get around to playing the hit he was famous for. To me, however, he was famous for being in the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, so I couldn't wait to ask him questions about it. So while all the radio stations are in his trailer trying to conduct an interview with the guy, he starts to get a little pissy at all of the "So, do you still keep in touch with Mickey Thomas?" questions and then he completely shuts down when I start asking him about working with Butterfield, the East-West album and the late Michael Bloomfield. All of the other stations keep quiet as the tension grows between Bishop and me. It got to the point where I actually said something like "I didn't mean to make you mad." To which he replied "Then don't!" Even when I tried to bring it back around to more appropriate topics like his current release, he continues to act like I was wasting his time.
AIR SUPPLY-I was forced into this one and I wasn't happy about it. Singer Russell Hitchcock was dressed like Peter Pan and he even sported a Peter Pan tattoo on his arm. All of the other radio station people seemed positively thrilled to be with the two dudes from Air Supply, so I just hung out and listened to them chat.
QUIET RIOT-I’ve saved the best story for last. Quiet Riot was scheduled to play a very small bar down the road from our station on a weeknight. We had no connection with the show, so I was surprised when the receptionist paged me to announce that Quiet Riot had stopped by to do an unscheduled interview. The overnighter agreed to talk to the guys and we brought guitarist Carlos Cavazo and (then) bassist Kenny Hillery downstairs to the studios. Even though the studios were dimly lit, Cavazo never took off his sunglasses and he seemed stoned the entire time he was there. Hillery seemed nice enough; as the newest member of this Q.R. configuration, he allowed Carlos to act as the official spokesperson. Lead singer Kevin DuBrow did not show up. The overnight announcer, Blake Davis, agreed beforehand to fuck with them throughout the entire interview. His questions were riddled with absurd questions and blatant Spinal Tap references. While Blake tried to contain his own laughter, Cavazo would answer each question earnestly. It got to the point where Hillery, who was about the same age as us and, therefore, younger than Cavazo, figured out we were having a laugh at their expense and would try to clue Carlos in on the joke. Seriously, he had no idea that questions like “Do your amplifiers go to eleven?” and “Is there a fine line between clever and stupid?” were rigged only to provide amusement to people in on the joke. To Cavazo, these were legitimate questions and he considered each one intently. Afterwards, we all had production work to do and we assumed that the two of them had to get back to the bar for soundcheck. That’s when it got uncomfortable as neither one of them showed any desire to leave the station. For a while, we stood in the hallways talking about anything that came up. Then, they followed me into my office and noticed the wall full of promotional material. Hillery seemed very excited that The Cure had a new album out, so I gave him a copy of it. He then proceeded to press for more free stuff. After allowing him to swipe about four or five albums from our prize vaults, I cut him off and we dropped some fairly obvious hints that Quiet Riot had to leave and allow us to get back to work. Three years later, Kenny Hillery would take his own life; perhaps because I refused to give him that Stanley Clarke cd he wanted.
My tenure at the radio station ended in 1995, as did Riverfest. Plagued by two consecutive summers with shitty weather conditions and the resulting poor ticket sales, the financial coffers that were built by bands like R.E.O. and Cheap Trick had finally diminished. The festival was reduced from seven days to five and then four. When the lower operating costs still didn’t provide enough return, the organizers were forced to approach the local gambling boat for financial support. The casino, of course, wanted to assume complete control over the festival and they proceeded to divert more money from the uncertainty of live concerts towards more family friendly activities like fireworks displays.
With my own financial coffers diminishing, I went towards a more reliable source of income too. But on occasion, just like those bands touring the county fairs and small-town festivals, I get a desire to revisit those glory days and get a backstage pass to witness the spectacle that is the obligatory career slide. Typically, you get a pretty good idea about the personalities of the musician by how they handle the downfall. Some handle it with grace and seem grateful that they have an opportunity to play (Night Ranger, Nazareth). Some bands seem bitter that their careers have been reduced to this (Kansas, R.E.O.). Some bands seem oblivious to their downfall (Eddie Money) while others are oblivious only because they’re too loaded to care (Badfinger, Quiet Riot, Molly Hatchet).
What remained consistent were the fans, oblivious to any downfall and perhaps a little grateful of it for bringing a band from their past a little closer to home.