“I know, it’s only rock ‘n roll, but I like it!”
Introducing…
The Ravin’ Brothers!
In 1986, I got together with hot guitarist, Chris Donahoe, and rockin’ bassist, Mark Mendleski. Together we formed the Santa Fe classic rock trio called The Ravin’ Brothers. This working band would prove to be one of the most successful endeavors of my career – both musically and financially.
“Working Day’s Done” Written and sung by Chris Donahoe
Luckily, our off-the-wall personalities and musical talents jelled into a crazy, hard-driving, highly entertaining juggernaut. We seriously rehearsed and soon got a house gig at the Bull Ring that lasted two years; and a third year at the Rafters – and beyond! There are many reasons why we endured.
Playing a successful house gig:
You have to “entertain,” not just play music. And there have to be new songs every week. You ask people what they want to hear. If you know the song, play it. If you don’t, tell them you’ll learn it – and then play it. We had an enormous playlist. We would write set lists, but called a lot of audibles according to the mood of the crowd. You have to “read” the crowd.
We rehearsed two or three times a week. We were a rockin’ dance band, and if they didn’t dance to a new song, we wouldn’t play it again – unless someone requested it. If everybody is up dancing, don’t let them leave the dance floor! Play songs “back-to-back.” And for heavens sake, look like you’re having the time of your life. Having a good time is infectious.
You have to develop a “following.” Make friends with everyone! And make them feel special. Advertise, but don’t forget that “word-of-mouth” (or gossip spread by vocal communication) is important; and don’t forget the posters. Back before cell phones, we collected fan’s land-line phone numbers. We called it our “party list.” If we had a show other than our house gig, we’d call everyone and alert them. Spread the word!
Remember: the club owner, club manager, bartenders and wait staff should be a part of your team. Make them your friends. (You do not need enemies in this business.)
And on break, don’t disappear to the parking lot to get high (or whatever). You need to shmooze with your audience. That’s fifteen minutes well spent! It all adds up.
And don’t forget that a twisted sense of humor goes a long way. We made fun of everyone, including ourselves. We insulted each other and the crowd loved it. (They even loved it when we insulted them!) There’s a lot more to it, but you get the idea.
One thing about the Ravin’ Brothers was that we just didn’t copy ‘cover’ tunes – we arranged them and made them our own. Not to mention we were writing songs for an album: Ravin’
And then we recorded Chris Ravin’s, Solo Flight.
“Music is a language that doesn’t speak in particular words. It speaks in emotions, and if it’s in the bones, it’s in the bones!” – Keith Richards
We actually had a group of guys who showed up for every show, no matter where it was. We called them the “Squad.” The Squad, and of course the loyal groupies, were our biggest fans. It wasn’t long before we had lines outside waiting to get in – even in snowstorms!
Speaking of lines: most nights we had a conga line that we’d lead through the club, bar and restaurant areas. Chris and Mark had wireless guitars, and I slung a marching snare with cowbell; and off we went continuing the song we had started on stage. It was great fun but we took it to new heights when our friend, the irrepressible Big Al, a tall charismatic black fellow, led the line with my second-line umbrella. Al became our de facto body guard, chauffeur and confidant. Quite the addition… and a great cook!
One evening, Big Al led the conga line out the front door and down the street to the Pink Adobe. We entered the restaurant where a solo act was playing and made the rounds. We left the place with many of their patrons joining the line. Once back inside the Bull Ring, we headed for the stage where I got back on my drums, and the Ravin’ Brothers finished the song. (That happened only once: the Pink Adobe complained to our biggest fan, Bull Ring owner, Harry O.)
“To entertain onstage, you have to get your psyche up. But with all you beautiful women out there, it’s easy to get it up!”
– DC Ravin’
My pal, Roger Miller poked his head in the side stage window one night and yelled, “Hey, DC! Can I sit in?” I shouted over the music, “Sure, Roger, come on in!” Chris frowned at me and yelled, “that guy’s not sittin’ in! He’s more drunk than last time.” I guess that shows how serious Chris was about our music. But Roger came in and sweet-talked Chris, and the next thing I knew, he was counting off “King of the Road.”
On the off nights we’d play Albuquerque, Taos, etc. And at Club West, we warmed up for acts like Spirit and Savoy Brown. We also did a big Festival at Isleta Lakes outside of Albuquerque. Harry O owned another club/restaurant in Ruidoso, NM in which we played. We had great times down there – except for the time I got carried away and wrecked the cabin after a rowdy night at the club. (Of course, I cleaned the mess up and Harry never suspected a thing.) One time I stayed with harry at his choice condo – without incident.
Ravin’ Brothers on stage at Club West, Santa Fe.
We were hired to play for the fine folks out at the New Mexico State Penitentiary. After a long night with little sleep, we headed down Highway 14 to the “big house” with our roadie, Johnnie the Mooch in tow. (Luckily, the guards didn’t search the van!) It was a bright, sunny day and low-risk prisoners in their ‘Sunday whites’ joined their families in the big grassy courtyard. We were one of three bands that afternoon.
At one point, some convicted biker friends of mine hoisted me up onstage to reluctantly dance with the complimentary belly dancers. The crowd roared. (How embarrassing.) At one point, Johnnie the Mooch exchanged a Ravin’ Brothers T-shirt for a prison shirt with a number on it. On the way out, through a metal door, a guard stopped him and said: “Where the hell do you think you’re going, convict?”
Johnnie says, “I’m with the band! Tell em, fellas!” We told the guard that we had no idea who he was. Unfortunately, they took the telltale shirt and let him go. Just another ravin’ Sunday…
Cashmere and Caviar Written and sung by Mark Mendleski
My buddy, Mark Mendleski, our bassist, was a great guy and funny as hell, but he must have been dropped on his head as a baby. He was ‘way out there’. Mark was from Corpus Christi. I had told him that I used to play there and did a Point Blank/Jay Boy Adams Concert at the Ritz Theater. He smiled and shouted, “I was there!” (It’s a small world after all.)
Mark had a wild-and-crazy wife named Patti. She was a rich girl who was used to getting her way – especially with unsuspecting young men. Most of the time her dangerous ideas could get us in trouble, but one time she came up with a gooder: The Ravettes! She corralled two of her gorgeous friends and the three of them worked out some provocative dance moves. Of course, they had sexy revealing outfits, including extreme altitude high-heels. The girls were a hit with the men at the Bull Ring, but the women were a bit put off – they had come to see the Ravin’ Brothers, not the skanky ravin’ sisters!
Harry O, the owner, allowed the Ravettes to use his office as a dressing room. BIG MISTAKE! One time, Harry was out of town and when he returned, he found his office in shambles. And to make matters worse, someone had taken a framed photo of Harry’s mom, laid it on his desk and used it for preparation of an illegal substance. Naughty, naughty girls! Of course that was the end of them.
Governor Tony Anaya and the First Lady would drop by now and then. They were sweet people and knew how to have a good time. We’d always make a big deal of inviting him to sit-in with us. He’d get a big round of applause as he hit the stage. Chris would play a righteous lead solo and the Gov would play a very animated ‘air guitar.’ (I guess you had to be there.) In the end, he was just another goofy fan. The mayor of Santa Fe, Mayor Sam, became a good buddy of mine and for years to come I’d run into him in various locales and the drinks were always on the house.
And then Mark Ravin’ decided he couldn’t live with Patti any longer so he moved out of their spacious abode and ended up at a rental on Baca Street. Suddenly the place was party central – every night. We called the place the “Baca Street Think Tank.” But there wasn’t much serious thinking going on over there, I guarantee. Not a serious thought in a mile radius.
Back at the Bull Ring, someone was blowing his nose in the stall in the men’s room. When the guy flushed and came out, I was standing face to face with Christopher Loyd, the actor. As it turned out, he was dating one of our pretty waitresses – and he liked our music. After a while he was just another friend at the bar, someone who was always glad to see you.
We were friends with Christine Hagman. She informed us that her famous father, Larry Hagman, would be at the Bull Ring for the New Years Eve bash. Sure enough, Larry spent the night dancing his ass off. And right after the countdown to the new year, we presented Larry with the umbrella; and he had the honor of leading the New Year’s first conga line…
The Ravin’ Brothers were asked to play the Santa Fe Ski Area’s Closing Day Celebration. We set up outdoors on a big deck in front of the lodge overlooking the action. Skiers were coming down the mountain heading for a ramp that shot them up in the air, and into a big pond. Lots of happy people; and lots of pretty girls in spandex.
Of course, Chris and Mark had wireless guitars and were roaming around the crowd while playing righteous rock ‘n roll. At break, Mark had a great idea. He was going to hitch a ride on a snow cat to the top – with his bass guitar. Then he’d ski down the hill while playing. One catch: Chris and I were at the bottom, so Mark would have to start the song out because he wouldn’t be able to hear himself from that distance. Chris and I could hear him perfectly through his amp and I would count us off and we’d play over Mark’s groove.
I was on the deck and Chris had moved up to the second story balcony.
Suddenly… we were playing without a bass player in sight! We informed the audience what was happening and all eyes were on the run. And then Mark appeared zooming down the hill without poles, playing his bass! The crowd cheered him all the way down where he made a dramatic stop in front of the deck, and we ended the song.
After that little escapade, we had their undivided attention and kicked it into high gear!