Jamaica—winter 2001

Jan.13—well after a good hearty week of absorbing the local culture we are primed to report our findings to the rest of the band when they arrive tonight from the chilly Canadian winterland. Agent Kelly and I have been training under the guidance of an expatriate shaman who put us through the paces in a solid but loving manner.

The yard we call home here is lush with a mind-boggling array of plant life complete with 3 gregarious dogs and a cat named Boris. The bugs sound like Japanese electronic toys and birds chirp on the good side of incessantly. The whole shootin' match around here is poetically juggled and styled by the handsome and peerless Gummy D. A master of any task, no impediments. no bumps. Just constant pumping reggae/dancehall beats. I can groove all day to the island music now that my brain has been saturated to the point of 8th notes dripping from my ear, down my cheek where I catch them with a quick lick of my stealthy tongue (oh yes girls). The taste is sweet like honey.

My 28th birthday is on the Tuesday next. Gummy D got us a show at a beach bar. There is NOTHING BUT REGGAE being played live here so we'll hit them with the LW & the W's country/bluegrass version of the Wall, drink alot of beer, then hopefully run off with everyone's daughters in a giant, glow-in-the-dark, neon blue, fully stocked sail boat, charging straight through the surf at the emasculated waning moon.

The Blue Mountain coffee is a mellower blend for el Dubya but the caffeine hit is substantial and my stomach is likely happy for a break from the espresso diet that has sustained me through the past years roller-coaster ride. Sitting here on the 2nd floor veranda of our chocolate wooden guest house I feel Hemingway-ish enough to start drinking before breakfast to open the vernacular tap full blast. Alas, dear reader, that isn't a great idea for your thin journalist. Another cup of activity juice and a cone of silence will have to suffice. Then a slow bike ride to the lighthouse for a splash in the salty, salty sea..... yea mon.

...Later the same day-smoking a giant Cohiba cigar sittin' the yard. Keeping the rock 'n roll dream alive.

Jan. 16—Okay then, I'm celebrating my birthday with my best buds here in Jamaica. 27 was a freaky concept, like, dude. Yeah. So the sun shines all the time down here. We have this great rock'n roll dealio going on here right now. This is us rehearsing our new record of someone else's tunes at our buddies place with a cool-running man making us happy on all that a hungry boy requisites. Time and space, as simple as they may be, are all that's between me, my homies and a clear slate.

Jan. 19—Friday night in Negril. Tonight we can go see Toots and the Maytals at a bar on the beach. We have been ripping through the 'Wall 'songs twice a day and there seems to be progress being made. The poetic justice of us playing Country versions of Pink Floyd songs in Jamaica keeps our universe vibrating at the appropriate levels. Cheeba keeps the perspective perpetually skewed. I don't ever want the straight poop for too long lest the regularity stifles the idea factory that I run in my head like a Swiss watch factory (or is it a Mexican sweat shop?). Actually the clarity of today fed by 9 hours of blissful sleep is fabulously soothing. We are set to jam the first of today's songs. The dogs in the yard just want our toast. The birds sing what they know and the salt is stirred up in the sea so that fat boys can bob like corks in the surf.

Later the same day—well the sound system broke down so Cam and Sean worked on it while Olesh, Dan and I went to town to mail some postcards and stock up on supplies. We received a copy of our pending record contract today and it involves so much thinking that I immediately wanted to start drinking heavily. I am so the Scotsman. Except that I don't give a @#%!* about money. Hot day here though.

Jan.20 Well the fellas did it up last night at the 'Toots' show (with the Maytals noticeably missing) We partied it up here and then Cam insisted that we go out. The beach bar was packed with locals and tourists but the back-up band took forever doing the classic reggae hits until finally Toots came out and coaxed them through his great songs. Kind of lame although Toots is like Otis Redding vocally. The band of locals probably had one rehearsal and you could sort of see it. The crowd thinned as the evening went on. Our cab ride home was a terror drive. Gummy D told the guy to chill out a bit which he took as a slight to his manliness and started to freak out. So you have 5 white guys squeezed into a cab with two Jamaican dudes screaming at each other in the local dialect. It all culminated in buddy stopping the cab, turning it off, getting out, pulling out a 2 foot machete and opening my door and yelling for me to get out. I, of course did nothing of the sort and instead quietly pleaded that we were very tired and he was scaring us because he is such an important and macho man and we are geeky-scardy-cats. This worked likely because I had the fellas, backing me up as insignificant she-boys. Of course buddy cheered right up and then continued the drive, telling us that he was crazy but that was okay. Then he hit the gas, and swerving like the madman that he is, carried us home in our continuing horror.

Jan. 21—Whew! Had a night of horrible nightmares that are too personal to recount here so I'll ramble on about something that doesn't require pity as a response. Like...we're taking this whole jamming thing to another level. We actually sat around last night and practiced harmonies for all of the big vocal hits on the 'Wall'. The local herbal remedies are soothing and a perfect supplement to all of the surrounding natural beauty. Why do we endure such stressful, urban lives when tropical living is so much healthier and nature offers up all the metaphors one needs to sort through the cerebral mess that we're dealt? I will trust everyone and lose everything but my ability to be taken in, stripped clean and left neck-ed and vulnerable for the vultures. Maybe it's noble, maybe I'm lazy.

Jan.22—hanging out at the yard with all the fellas. We're all filled up with Gummy's yummies. Fish and chicken keeping us healthy. Tomorrow we are going snorkeling out at sea with our friend Courtney. Went to the beach today and surfed the waves. Have been living the high life. Have our man Gummy taking care of every-ting. Executive production is not a simple job my friends

Jan.23—after a fine meal of rice and beans, curried chicken and some jamming good fish, we are going to do the hoolie-woolie and continue making music. The days are groovin' by. Lots of wind today, the sea was far too rough to swim. We have gig lined up for Thursday night at one of the cliffside bars. I don't want to go home yet. I need another week without these gomers. I'm the withdrawn extrovert personality. Go figure.

Jan. 28—on the plane home. Have alot of catching up to do on the story of the 'Wrongs in Jamaica...

We went ahead with the show at a local cliff-side restaurant. The place was filled with locals who were jazzed that we were playing something other than reggae music. These locals, other than a few (and our posse of Gummy D and the gang) were mostly white folks who owned businesses in Negril. Turns out they are good people for us to know there. Crazy, fun people who took us home and filled us up with goodness. The show was smashing! We rocked out the hits; the Wall was stuff really over the top. Dancing fools and us singing like kooks. We drank an impressive number of gin & tonic's (concerned that we needed the quinine to ward off any threat of malaria), and played for over 3 hours or basically until they wanted to shut the place down. We went back to the most amazing 4 story house that was just down the road from our place and we sang 80's hits and drank tequila until dawn. The lovely Linda and her man Rusty set us up with beverages and food, we had a hoot. For the 'Wrongs by this point, the opportunity to talk to women was fabulous. We worked the room like seasoned cruise directors. Hopefully this leads to a big future in Negril for LW & the W's.

Many people expressed their delight at having some other music happening. We of course, being so broke will need a benefactor to get us into the lucrative stages of our career but that isn't an issue as we are attracting wealthy freaks like mad cows to a bonfire. For our last night I took the boys out for lobster at the most beautiful restaurant in the world. It was wildly decadent but so worth it. The little people will understand one day I hope. Luckily Sean Kelly had a remarkable recovery from our show the night before and pushed us all into going out for the last night in Jamaica. We went to the beach bar and whooped it up with our new friend Linda the dementress. Back at the house their was a slight crisis in the morning when our buddy Gorby woke up and couldn't feel his one arm. He must have pinched a nerve but was worried that he might have had a stroke so Cam drove him to the doctor. All is well I guess. Gorby must have passed out on it or something. The drive to Montego Bay was great. We got to see the ocean and coastal road by day and we drink cold beers while the driver dude wheeled his way around those windy roads. Look forward to a arriving in Kingston tonight and staying home for a whole 18 hours before returning to the big city and negotiating our contract with Universal. Meetings for a couple of days and then some inspired solution to the crushing debt load that we're operating under.

Thought of selling my organs on the black market and even have set up a meeting with my dad, the ex doctor, to see which ones I might not need. If that doesn't pan out then plan 'B' involves a complicated marketing scam involving a famous British rock bands concept album and a bunch of spaced out musicians based out of Kingston...