The Pat Tragedy Story Chapter Two: Making The Band 1985

Chapter Two

I sat there on the edge of Eric's bed, nodding my head to the rollicking roadhouse blues of Pat Travers' Boom Boom (Out Go The Lights), realizing now what Eric and Chet envisioned just moments earlier; this was a great air guitar song.

 

Boom Boom had just what we were looking for and more. Contained within the structure of the tune were simple lyrics, a rockin' beat, and two distinct guitar solos. The icing on the cake was that the track was culled from a live performance that included crowd noise and audience participation, so there would be no awkward fade out and the Student Body might even be moved to join in. We could see it now...... 

 

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Pat Travers never enjoyed a ton of radio success. His career, like many artists' of the late '70s and early '80s, was built mainly on album sales and touring. His 1976 debut album contained a fairly straight take on Little Walter's subdued, but vicious, blues song from 1955, Boom Boom (Out Go The Lights). But by the time the 1978 live album Go For What You Know came out, Travers' version had progressed into a more heavy and powerful showcase for his guitar playing prowess that was a mainstay featured in his concerts.

 

Before getting to know Eric and Chet better during my Junior year (I'd met Chet during my Freshman year and Eric a year later), my only exposure to Pat Travers' music was via the late, lamented Fresno radio station KKDJ. This station played everything that huddled under the rock and roll umbrella. On any given day, you could hear selections ranging from Black Sabbath to Thomas Dolby. I remember that on the last day of school during my junior year, I heard one run of tunes that included The Romantics' What I Like About You, Iron Butterfly's In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, Rainbow's Since You've Been Gone, and of course, Alice Cooper's School's Out (a last day of school tradition for as long as I listened to KKDJ, played on consecutive days around 3:00pm to accommodate various school districts in the Central Valley). Ironically, the only Travers song I'd ever heard on KKDJ then was the live version of Boom Boom and I'd always liked it for the raucous crowd's enthusiastic participation in screaming the line, "Out go the lights".
 

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Before the track ended, Chet, Eric and I had again reached an unspoken agreement. This would be the song we'd do for the Air Guitar Contest. As the tone-arm automatically returned to it's resting place with a "clack", we were already deep into discussion as to who would handle what parts.
 
"Who wants to sing?", I asked, meaning who would lip-synch.

"Hmm, I dunno", said Eric. Eric actually played guitar, so it was natural that he play lead air guitar. But it didn't seem that he wanted to be "Pat Travers", thereby having to sing as well. No answer from Chet.

I had assumed that I'd play bass. I always had (and still do have) an affinity for the bass. For this performance, I figured that the bass part would be the easiest to fake and not knowing a damn thing about playing any instrument, I volunteered. That left the second guitarist's spot, drums, and vocals. With Eric on lead guitar and me on bass, we mulled over the drummer's position.

"Man, the drums kinda suck for this thing", I offered. "You don't really get to do much and you might even look stupid. All you can do is flail your arms and flop your feet in time". I looked at Chet. Eric read my mind and said to him, "You gotta take Thrall's (Pat Thrall, second guitar) spot, man". Chet readily agreed, really having already made up his mind, but waiting to claim that 2nd guitar solo as his own. So we had the two guitarists and the bassist taken care of. Now, we had to decide on the drummer.

Sean seemed the likely candidate, what with his lineage. As far as we were told, over many Big Gulps and bags of Doritos, Sean's uncle had played percussion in Santana's band during the late '70s. He had a few bootleg recordings on cassette and we heard them over and over when we visited his place. It was cool listening to that stuff, but in '85, Santana circa 1978 is light years away from Iron Maiden's Powerslave album. Sean would play bongos along with these hissy recordings of his uncle playing with Santana and I'd have Two Minutes To Midnight playing in my head.
 
Sean lived out on a chicken farm. Me and the guys would go pick him up in the old '76 Sunbird to hit Tower Records and cruise around on Friday nights. Man, you could smell his place before you could see it. I always felt a little sorry for Sean. I know that when I was a teenager, my room stunk like God's wrath upon my parents, but this guy's whole house stunk like chicken shit. There was a time when we were all really enamored with the debut album from Montrose. Unfortunately, because we played it at full volume 5 times straight in Sean's room, my lasting memory of the song Space Station #5 is that of the rank smell of poultry dung. Now, every time someone feels slighted and uses the phrase, "That's chickenshit", in my head I agree by thinking, "Yeah man, that's Montrose".

So we decided that we'd ask Sean to play the air drums in the show. Then the guys realized that we hadn't thought to include Gavin. I hadn't mentioned his name because I knew he'd screw everything up. He screwed everything up. I lived near Gavin and had more experience with his inclination to goof off than the other guys did. Like the time he flipped off the cop while we played Wiffle Ball in his driveway. He had no reason to do it and all it did was earn us some grief from an irritated police officer. While the Air Guitar contest was going to be fun, we were already taking it pretty seriously and I really didn't want Gavin getting up there and ruining it for us. The guys agreed and we had our outfit set. Except for the singer.

"Shit man," said Chet, "you could do it, Tone".

I shrugged. "Well...yeah, but Pat Travers doesn't play bass."

Eric noted that we didn't have to be completely accurate in our portrayal of The Pat Travers Band as almost no one in our school would know who the hell Pat Travers was. So I agreed to sing and play air bass. Now we were really set. Eric had two guitars and we borrowed a bass from a friend. This guy hadn't finished re-stringing the bass, but were short on time and who would notice anyway? That's why there are only three strings in the pictures. But we'd have real instruments while the other lame acts would just be playing real air guitar. Our only regret would be that Sean would have to settle for keeping the beat on an invisible kit. 
 
In the next days we started practicing at each others houses. Over and over, we ran through the tune, coming up with new moves and choreography. With two guitar solos (one by Travers and the other by Thrall), both Chet and Eric would have a chance to move to center stage. We also were proud of ourselves for incorporating a move made famous by Iron Maiden and Judas Pries, among others. Towards the end of the song, the two guitarists and I would stand together, rocking in unison to the rhthym until we hit the power chords during the crescendo. We each were getting used to our parts, becoming a fine tuned rock and roll machine. I was doing okay with mimicking the vocals, but in the middle of this particular track, Pat Travers speaks to the audience to coach them on the audience participation segment. The cadence of his speech took some getting used to, but I practiced it everywhere; in the car, in my room, in the shower, etc. With just a couple of more days until the contest, I felt that all those years of strumming that tennis racquet with a quarter as a pick and singing into that Mennen Speed Stick were finally going to come in handy.
 
Hanging around at school during morning break on the day before the contest, we were excitedly going over final preparations. Jokingly, I suggested that we submit the name, The Pat Tragedy Band, because Travers had recently pretty much disappeared from the mainstream, playing small clubs in tiny towns. Eric saw this as blasphemous and insisted we call ourselves The Pat Travers Band, even though kids might later scour their yearbooks looking for this Pat guy they'd never heard of before. Gavin was there with us that day as usual and he wasn't real happy to be excluded from the lineup. He would look bored and try to change the subject whenever air guitar came up. I felt a little sorry for him, but I knew we had made the right move. I commented that I didn't exactly look like a rock star, what with the huge red hair and glasses look I'd perfected over four years.

 

What I looked like during my senior year.

Mom wasn't too thrilled about the Pink Floyd t-shirt.

Note the mispelling of "Excellence"

 

   
I suggested that I could wear a wig and sunglasses and no one would no who I was. It would also give me something to hide behind, relieving what were sure to be jittery nerves at showtime.
 
That afternoon, Eric and I went to a local magic shop/novelty store and bought a long black wig for about six bucks. The moment I tried it on, we both busted up laughing and just had to have it. Our school had a strict dress code that included a stipulation that no male's hair would go beyond the collar of his shirt, so coming out on that stage with this getup would stand out for sure.

Back home that night, I went over the lyrics one final time in my head, now knowing them by heart and not even needing the song playing behind me. I laid out the wig and the clothes I'd wear the next day and drifted off to sleep thinking that there was no way that we wouldn't be crowned Air Guitar Champs of 1985. 
 
Next: The Pat Tragedy Story Chapter Three: Flying Blind To The Edge    

 

Tragoedia Interruptus

Dear faithful Tony's readers,
 
I'd like to take just a moment of your time in between installments of the Pat Tragedy Story to direct you to another blog. This favor has been done for me by others and I feel that I need to pass it on.

Paul Taylor is a friend of mine and he recently started a blog. If you're interested in articulate, well thought out opinions, check him out. If you're happy with the crap I write, then just stay here for heaping pagefuls.

I'm apolitical at best, so I can't say that I agree with Paul's view on everything, but he makes every point very well. Well enough to make me think a bit. I have Excedrin on hand every time I bring up his site. Paul make Tony brain hurt.

So just because he's a pinko commie freak, don't let that stop you from reading some good stuff. (He also writes about some cool music, too!) And please, like I've begged you to do on my site, leave him some FEEDBACK. Good or bad, we hacks love to read our press.
 
Find a link to Paul's page on my sidebar (Over there <------), Paul's Rants And Raves. 

More Pat Tradegy bio coming up later this weekend! Keep comin' back, I really do appreciate it. 

The Pat Tragedy Story Chapter One: Hell, Yeah!

Chapter One

During the spring of my senior year in high school, Clovis High School announced that an Air Guitar contest would be held on the stage of the school's amphitheater. Air Guitar was really just a more rockin' way to say lip-synch. Flyers were posted around campus with the sign-up info and regulations. You'd need to have your band members signed up (CHS students only), your song (sans profanity) listed, and your band name turned in by a certain date.
 
I hung around in a small, tight-knit group of guys and we'd all seen the flyers at one time or another the first day. We met at our usual place near the Art Building during the morning break like we always did to discuss music, chicks, cars, and the other minutiae that fills teenage minds. But this day, we had an actual subject to discuss. Would we participate in the Air Guitar contest this year?
 
"Hell, yeah!", Chet piped.
 
Chet was usually pretty quiet when it came to making group decisions. Eric or I usually decided such matters as where to eat, if we were going to Tower Records this weekend--always yes--, what movie to see, etc. Chet almost always agreed with our decree because the three of us pretty much all thought the same things anyway. Gavin and Sean, both just Sophomores, went along for the ride on everything we chose. With Chet, Eric and I being Seniors, those two really didn't have much of a say in anything. When Chet spoke up so soon, we all turned to see what he had to say.
 
"Yeah?", I said.
 
"Yeah, man. We could play something cool for a change. You know its gonna be all kinds of pussy shit up there; Culture Club, Def Leppard, that fuckin' Journey crap....."
 
Whoa. He was showing some passion here. But we did hate Journey something awful.
 
Eric chimed in with, "Y'know, we could do this. Play some UFO or something. Something these people need to hear". Eric was always on a crusade to improve people's listening habits. Most of them looked at him bewildered when he talked about Alcatrazz or The Michael Schenker Group.
 
So we immediately started tossing around the names of bands whose songs we could Air Guitar to. I submitted Dio almost without thinking since Dio cassettes were in heavy rotation in my Sunbird's tape deck that year. Whitesnake, Zeppelin, and Judas Priest were bounced around as well. The discussion was so lively that we'd made our decision without realizing it. We were in.
 
The warning bell for 3rd period rang and we had to get to class, but agreed to make some decisions at the end of the day. Only Chet and Eric shared a lunch period, so any choices would have to wait to be shared until we got out that day. All day in my classes, I shot possible songs through my head. I was on a roll making an impressive list in Government class when Mr. Ramage asked me if I'd like to share my love note with the class. Some girls giggled and most of the guys busted up. I turned redder than a cherry Lifesaver and told him, "No.... 's okay", putting the list away. I would have been less embarrassed to profess my feelings for a girl than to read aloud the following list: 
 
'Snake---Slide It In, Love Ain't No Stranger
Sabbath---anything fast
Thin Lizzy---Jailbreak
BOC---E.T.I., Take Me Away, Cities On Flame
Cheap Trick---maybe
Judas Priest---Electric Eye, Hell Bent For Leather
Dio---anything!!
Fastway---Say What You Will
Deep Pur~~~~(Ramage interrupts me here)
 
Me and Chet went over to Eric's house after school that day. Each of us was full of suggestions. My submissions were considered, but Eric thought they leaned too heavily on the front man and the guitarist and he wanted more involvement from the other players. Chet thought that Deep Purple spread it around pretty good, but Eric had something more in mind of a twin guitar attack with at least a solo apiece. Chet saw it coming, I think. I didn't, but it made perfect sense when Eric grinned and slid an LP out of his rack.
 
Go For What You Know, The Pat Travers Band Live!.
 
Before the needle dropped into the groove, I realized what track Eric was thinking about and said," Oh! Its Boom Boom (Out Go The Lights)".
 
Eric smiled and nodded and Chet said, "Aw, Hell yeah." We had made our second decision of the day.
 
Next: Chapter Two: Making The Band (1985)
 
 
 
 
      
 
 

Blinded By The Rock: The Pat Tragedy Story

Preface

 

Its not often that you get the chance to do something on a stage in front of hundreds of people that you'd normally only do in the privacy of your own home with the shades drawn. If your mom was to walk
 in on you in your bedroom doing this thing, it would be pretty embarrassing. I still see people perform this very personal act in public sometimes, their eyes closed and heads thrown back in ecstasy. They're usually really drunk and oblivious to others around them. Sometimes, two or more people (usually male), join up and do it together.
 
I'd venture to say that we've all done it. I subscribe to the thought that its a natural thing and that it can be a healthy outlet providing such benefits as stress relief, physical activity, and sheer pleasure. However, as open minded as I am about the subject, I would still prefer to not see others do it. With one exception in the past, I really don't want others watching me when I do it. 
 
What am I talking about?
 
Air Guitar!  
 
C'mon, you know you've done it. Its okay, admit it. Sometimes that riff is just too powerful and you're overcome with the urges that are drawn from deep down inside you. Humble Pie's I Don't Need No Doctor comes on the radio; before you realize what's happening, your thumb and index finger are pinched together, holding an invisible pick. The other arm is held away from the torso, akimbo in an upright position so as to hold the neck of the imaginary guitar. You strum away on exaggerated power chords, nodding your head approvingly at the thousands of fans in front of your mind's eye. And when the solo comes, you make moves up and down that fretboard, accuracy be damned, that would impress Eddie Van Halen himself.
 
The guilt you feel at the end of the song is also natural. You feel silly and juvenile. You thought you were beyond this. But it feels good. We humans do what feels good, so you know you'll do it again. It might take a few beers or a glass of wine to cut down the inhibition factor a bit, but it will happen.
 
I just hope you'll draw the shades this time.
 
Next up: Chapter One: Hell Yeah! 

Pat Tragedy Exposed!

With the help of faithful Tony's readers like yourself, I was able to put together the clues and find Pat Tragedy. Thanks to all who emailed and left comments here on the site.

But in the end, it was me who finally solved the puzzle. I didn't find Pat on the internet; I found him in the mirror.

That's right, I was Pat Tragedy. I guess my own memory plotted against me and I blocked out that warm spring day back in '85 when Pat's persona wrestled for, and won, control of my awareness. Now that I've put it all back together again, I'm ready to tell the inside story of Pat Tragedy; how he got his stage name, why he played a 3 string bass, and other sordid details. Plus, this time, the account of the concert will be from the performer's perspective.

Next time: Blinded By The Rock: The Unsanitized Autobiography Of Pat Tragedy

More Pat Tragedy News!

I found another historic photo of Pat Tragedy. This shot looks like it was taken on the day of the '85 outdoor show. He's wearing the same shirt and headband, plus the trademark tight 501s mentioned in Susan's COMMENTS from the previous post. (Also, the infamous three-string bass is featured again.) The background shows what looks to be a non-descript suburb somewhere in Central California. This must have been some sort of photo session during a press junket just before the aborted summer tour.



The search goes on....(Lord help us; this is turning into "Eddie and the Cruisers".)

Instead of sending emails, leave COMMENTS below so others can use your clues to solve this one for me. The internet has been little help, so any ideas you have--no matter how far fetched they may seem to you--may be of help.

Where is Pat Tragedy?

Do You Know This Rocker?

Once in a while, I tend to latch onto a band or artist that disappears from the face of the Earth and I end up wondering what ever became of them. (Clockhammer anyone?......I didn't think so.) The internet has become a very useful resource in the search for my lost icons, but sometimes I come up empty. Now that I have you folks visiting this site once in a while, I thought that I could reach out to you to help find my White Whale.

I have a concert story of sorts on this artist that I'll share in the future here, but in the meantime, I'd like to know if anyone out there has seen or heard from this man recently.


Pat Tragedy performing at a Central California amphitheater, circa 1985

This shot is one of two photographic records of that afternoon's performance. I've also seen video of the show, both official and bootleg, but not for many years and I wonder about the condition of the tapes at this point in time. This photograph (and the video footage) show Pat Tragedy playing his signature three-string bass guitar.

Any help is greatly appreciated. Please leave any info by clicking on COMMENTS at the end of this post, even if you think its a stretch. I will follow all leads.

Thanks for your efforts to help solve this mystery.

Where is Pat Tragedy?