EVIL MISTRESS: A Lifelong Affair with Music, Part Twenty-Eight

Photo: Superman and Lois Lane

When you go out to eat, you want food that doesn’t suck. And if you’re looking for a new car, you obviously want a car that doesn’t suck. Most men are looking for a woman that doesn’t suck. (Although some men are looking for women who do…)

Jeff Strahan:
“Music that doesn’t suck!”
(His actual motto.)

In 2007, at Jeff’s invitation, John June and I had given Kirk James notice and joined the Jeff Strahan syndicate. Jeff, a no-nonsense, businesslike ex-lawyer, had the unenviable task of firing his rhythm section. His bass player, Bill Boyer, who I had played with and considered a friend, must have been irate and probably had it out for me.

They say you have to break some eggs to make an omelet but, once again, I felt like the Evil Mister. Forget the Evil Mistress, this was a matter of choice, not happenchance.

Jeff and his beautiful girlfriend, Lois, were in charge of the operation. They called themselves Lois Lane and Superman after Jeff’s song “Superman”, written for her. But they were more like Bonnie and Clyde than mild-mannered Clark Kent and his squeeze.

I suppose John and I were willing accomplices. (Jeff must have thought we didn’t suck.)

I came up with the name of the band: Jeff Strahan & the Brothers Mayhem! That said it all. Jeff played his Strat and keyboards – sometimes simultaneously, and sang many of his own songs that were keepers. It seemed as though the man had a plan.

We traveled in a new Chevy Suburban hauling a double-axle trailer full of equipment. It was very comfortable, but Jeff insisted on listening to right-wing talk radio at 70db. Finally, John and I exploded – we couldn’t take it any longer! We compromised and started listening to comedy radio. (I always thought right-wing radio was comedy . . .)

On stage, Jeff was a tyrannical taskmaster. He seemed to have superhuman strength – albeit in powder form. Case in point: The band was playing the New Sheridan in Telluride. The stage was up on the mezzanine with a stairway leading up on the right. The band commanded a great view of the big barroom below, and a view of the poolroom at our rear. Usually, the stairway was crowded with music lovers and it was a bit hard getting down on breaks. But Jeff had no problem negotiating the stairs with his wireless guitar. He would play through the crowd and end up atop the bar! After prancing up and down the packed bar he’d make it back up to the stage, playing his ax non-stop. Once back in front of his mic, he’d sing the last chorus, and then immediately proceed to the next tune.

One of these occasions, on a bustling Saturday night, I played the longest set of my career – it went on for over two hours. People kept on buying us drinks that were strewn about the stage, untouched, our bladders about to explode. (I even thought about filling up a few empty beer bottles. But that would be ridiculous.) Jeff just kept on going. After that horrendous set, I seriously contemplated getting catharized!

That night we tore down and loaded out. We got a few hours of sleep, and then piled into the Suburban and drove 330 miles to Denver for an afternoon gig at a fucking biker bar! After that depraved “event” we loaded out and hit the highway. They call it roadwork . . .

In late 2008, Jeff informed me that we would be recording an album at Scooter’s Place in Durango. But John June was out on the road and had bowed out of the project. So, Jeff decided to use his old bass player from Lubbock, Texas: Jay Hataway.

As it turned out, Jay had some serious health problems; and he would have to drive from the west Texas flatlands to the Colorado Rockies… in the dead of winter. The one thing Jeff hadn’t counted on was the dreaded altitude sickness. This was not a good start.

We rehearsed at the Bayfield home of Superman and Lois Lane. Jay and I slept in a big travel RV parked out on the street. One night we were rudely awakened by a gigantic snow plow burying the RV with Jay and I inside it. That was supposed to be our first day of recording but due to the subsequent power outage, we rescheduled for the next day. I slid into Durango and got a motel room a few blocks from the studio. Just in case Scooter, our proficient engineer, and I had to set up and mic my drums with little notice.

Amen to the Blues

Even with all the aforementioned problems, we managed to get a top-notch recording in the can: Amen to the Blues. Jay had been a real trooper, but the boy was definitely hurting. And Jeff had booked us in the biggest venue in Durango the next week. Well, poor Jay had had enough of that Evil Mistress. He took his earnings and fled back to Texas, and we got a sub.

Sadly, Jay Hataway died a few years later.

In 2009, Jeff and Lois moved back to Texas. And for the next few years I played leap-frog with other bands: Brian Flynn, Kirk James, Mean Dean Murphy, Groove Kitchen, etc.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave – too many bands I do believe!

In March of 2012 Jeff contacted me and asked if I would drum on his latest album. This time we would record at The Zone Studios in Dripping Springs west of Austin. Evidently, John June had already signed on.

Jeff said he needed the “old guard” on this one. He seemed to be implying that the people he’d been playing and recording with in Texas were perhaps a little too progressive when it came to the blues. So, the young turks were out, and the old farts were in, (I made a mental note to pack my arthritis meds and anti-diarrhea pills.) Jeff mailed us the work CDs for us to study the new tunes. And I was off like a prom dress . . .

Jeff and Lois paid for everything including airline tickets, food and lodging – and booze, of course. I took a plane from Durango to Phoenix where John, coming from his home in Tucson, joined me for the flight to San Antonio. Jeff picked us up at the airport and drove us to their lovely home in New Braunfels, just a few blocks from Gruen Hall, the famous Texas dance hall.

We had less than a week to create an album of thirteen songs from scratch. Jeff didn’t need musicians, he needed magicians!

We commuted to the Zone Studios from New Braunfels every morning, a distance of 60 miles through the gorgeous Texas Hill Country. We would discuss the tunes to be recorded on the way and then lay them down in the studio . . . pronto. All the while Lois, the consummate manager, kept us all on track. I don’t think this project could have been completed so flawlessly within the time constraints without the lovely Lois Lane.

Jeff planned on recording an Augie Meyers tune. He knew Augie so I asked him why Augie, a Texas legend, couldn’t play on the recording? Jeff was hesitant, but he finally realized that the name Augie Meyers on the album would boost sales. (Not to mention it would be a hoot!) Damn if Jeff didn’t make it happen. Augie, on keys, set up near the studio drums in the main room, while John and Jeff occupied two sound booths.

There were a few VIPs observing the session in the control room. Afterwards, we sat around shooting the breeze. It seems that one of the gentlemen had a sister that had been a big fan of my old band, the Bee’s Knees. “Karen says hi,” he exclaimed. (Augie gave me a sly wink.) It seems Pat Manske, our able engineer who drummed for Joe Ely, had been talking me up a bit.

All in all, we had recorded a damn good album . . . and enjoyed some mighty fine Tex-Mex!

At the end of the project, we did a hilarious interview at the studio that can be viewed at jeffstrahan.com.

“Betty Sue” with the one-and-only Augie Meyers!

A few months later, Jeff called me regarding a “Colorado tour” in the late summer. He looked forward to promoting the new CD hot off the presses. It sounded like a good idea, but John June was not available. In his place Jeff had hired Michael McCallister from Cortez, CO on bass.

Originally, he had planned on starting the mini-tour – a string of one-niters – at Evangelo’s in Santa Fe, one of our regular venues. In the end, Mike and I were to meet Jeff and Lois in Colorado Springs at Southside Johnny’s in the downtown area. Of course. Jeff had promised me that we would be doing ample rehearsals before and during the tour. As it turned out, we had absolutely no rehearsals.

The next day, we travelled north to Boulder where we based the rest of the gigs. We stayed at the Boulder Outlook Hotel that also had a slick nightclub and restaurant. We played Dazzle, Denver’s premiere jazz (and blues) club; Oscar Blues Brewery in Lyons on the way to Estes Park; one night at the Overlook; a radio interview in Carbondale, and then onto a room in Paonia to the west. And then we had one last big show on the way home.

We had several days off, and in lieu of rehearsing, Jeff chose to go fishing. I don’t want to speculate, but something weird was going on with my friend. I never mentioned my concern to Lois – probably should have. Mike and I spent a lot of time at the Colorado Chautauqua hiking and eating at the grand dining hall. I also drove up to Nederland for lunch at my favorite German restaurant. One evening Jeff treated us all to an incredible Italian dinner on Pearl Street; his way of saying thanks for backing him on this peculiar little tour.

Our last show was at the famous Little Bear in Evergreen. Jeff was looking forward to playing there, especially on a coveted Friday night. The place had a wrap-around balcony and was packed. Mid second set, Jeff sat down at the keys and went into his lovely ballad written for Lois: “Superman.” In the middle of the song, Jeff suddenly stopped and cussed out some noisy customers at the bar. Mike and I looked at each other in shock. The tantrum went on and on, ruining the perfect atmosphere.

It was extremely embarrassing.

After the gig we loaded out and spent the night at the band house. That was the last time I played with Jeff; and I had a long drive home… alone with my thoughts.

In December, Jeff called me and asked if I could take his New Year’s Eve gig at the New Sheradan in Telluride, that he was playing Gruen Hall in New Braunfels. I said yes and played the big bash in Telluride with Mean Dean Murphy, Brant Leeper and Sister Mary.

And then I got the devasting news: Jeff Strahan had died on January 15, 2014. The cause of death was sepsis – his kryptonite I suppose. He had started showing symptoms on his New Year’s Eve gig at his beloved Gruen Hall and, sadly, it progressed.

Lois Lane is doing well, but she misses her Superman. And like Kirk James and Brian Flynn, their devoted fans keep them alive.

“Superman” by the late, great, Jeff Strahan.