Ben, BYAP and Doctor Bob

 Our first rehearsals as a band were inauspicious. At the time I was spending a lot of time at the Latchis Hotel/Theater/Pub/Gallery/Shop complex in Brattleboro. With our friend Dan we had access to a streetfront space on Flat Street (across from what used to be the Flat St. Nightclub, a venue that once hosted Aerosmith.) The space was chock full of Dan's stuff. Collectibles, audio equipment, instruments, boxes of Legos, literally piled from floor to high ceiling.  Those first days Darcy and I wedged ourselves into a corner office of that space, Dan provided a couple of amps and a little PA, and we were off. 

It was not particularly comfortable. We barely had room to stand up, and were in almost constant danger from wobbly plastic totes teetering in great stacks above us. Just getting in and out of that little room was an exercise in choreography. And then Dan brought his drums. We got very loud and had some pretty serious laughs. But we also discovered each other as musicians, the door to the astonishing music of Led Zeppelin was opened to me, and before we knew it we were a band and thinking band stuff, like playing out and what songs to do and building a set list. 

Then tragedy hit: we lost the Flat St. space. The Latchis wanted it back, unfortunately. What the fuck to do now? Jon Potter, the terrific and empathetic director of the Latchis organization, even offered his barn as a place to rehearse, which was nice, but not a solution. Then Darcy placed an ad in Craigslist looking for rehearsal space. Lo and behold the next day we got an answer. 

Just when we needed it the most, the universe stepped in the next day and gave us a great gift: Ben.  A guitarist and audio geek living in Putney who just happened to have a rehearsal/recording studio set up in his little barn. He'd been building it for ages and now he had it, and discovered he wasn't using it as much as he'd hoped and that it was a pity it wasn't being used. Then he saw our post. 

So we ended up in Putney, a couple of miles up from where my Dad used to work at Windham College. Big loops in the universe's energy being bestowed upon us. Whispers and echos from the past, most of them sweet, bubbling up as the band moves forward and the friendship between us Percys continues to grow.  

The space is as ideal a rehearsal space for a rock band that could ever be imagined. As a Led Zeppelin doctoral candidate, I knew that the band used to rehearse, write and record in a place called Bron-yr-Aur, in Wales. The physical resemblance between Bron-yr-Aur (Wales) and Bron-yr-Aur (Putney) is striking.

Bron-Yr-Aur Putney

Bron-Yr-Aur Wales

 

Both are country outbuildings surrounded by forest in a remote rural area. The Welsh BYA is near Machynlleth, we're just a hop from Brattleboro. We're actually better off than the boys, at least we have electricity; I guess they did all acoustic there. "Hill of Gold" is the Welsh translation of Bron-Yr-Aur, or "breast of gold." Whichever, it's pretty Tolkein-y. They were there in 1970 and wrote a lot of songs there that we play all the time. "Over the Hills and Far Away," "The Rover," "Friends," "That's the Way," were all penned at BYAW.  

So Ben and his gorgeous studio appear. As it turns out, Ben is a very good guitarist, as well as being a nice guy, and after listening to us play a few times he kind of shyly asked if he might sit in sometimes. Well hell, yeah! A couple weeks have gone by since then and he's working on our setlist and building some solos and has actually become part of the band! Amazing! 

But perhaps most amazing, and the one element that has kept Black Rover roving ahead, is Doctor Bob. Remember Dan, who set us up in the Latchis and did some drumming? He was of the awareness that the drummer we needed was above his technical abilities, so on his own he called his old friend Bob, a drummer he had worked with dozens of times over the years. He was up for playing together so we got together and all pretty much bonded and fell in love with each other by the end of the session. Bob is a force of nature. 

A veterinarian by profession, specializing in "exotic" animals like owls and gerbils and toucans and, who knows, probably lions and tigers, Bob is an imposing and agreeable presence. Barrel-chested, white-haired, with the voice of an NFL announcer and an aura of Santa Claus, Bob sits behind those drums and lets loose. Dude, the guy shreds. Big powerful groove, confident, interesting, with frequent head-turning fills and rhythmic complexities that are perfectly and ideally suited for the music of John Bonham. And the dude is our age, funny, easygoing and very, very professional. It's like the universe knew exactly what we needed for a drummer and poof created Doc. 

All of which makes Percy and I gasp sometimes. [Percy, in case it's not clear, is Darcy, my bandmate, my sister from another mother. They used to call Bobby Plant "Percy," which is where we got it. Apparently he disliked it, but too bad. So we're the Percys, me and her, the nuclear core to this band.] Ever since this idea was birthed on the day of the eclipse the universe has been showering us with pretty much whatever we need or want. It's an energy that keeps us going and working so hard. These gifts, the rehearsal spaces, the instruments, Dan, Ben, Bob, BYAP, our good energy and rapport, wouldn't be happening if the universe didn't think this project was worthwhile and good. 

Percys rehearse Tuesday before full band session Wed evening. We'll work The Rover for the first time, for which I can't wait. A delightfully fun song to play. Also easy, simple in form and I don't have to fucking sing. So all good. Also gotta work Over the Hills and Far Away (OTHAFA.) I'm on the hook to sing the gentle opening of this tune, "Hey Lady, you got the love I need." and it terrifies me. It's a delicate duet with Percy playing a complicated guitar part, and I'm definitely struggling to find the right singing approach. 

Next post: The Ocean