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More About Mitch
Mitch's Famous Family Chronic Bliss Musicans Chronic Bliss Reviews & Press Performances |
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When and how Mitch met Donald Fagen It was December, 1992. A tribute concert for Jeff Porcarro was being put on at the Universal Amphitheater in Los Angeles. He had passed away over the summer. Among the performers were all the members of ToTo (including Jeff's replacement Simon Phillips), David Crosby, Eddie Van Halen, Mike McDonald, Don Henley and Boz Scaggs. I had tickets to the concert that night. During the day though, I was in Hollywood taking care of some kind of business. For some reason, my Fender Deluxe Reverb was still in my back seat from a gig the night before. So I'm driving down the Hollywood freeway back to Topanga when the Universal Studios/Amphitheater exit caught my eye. Completely disregarding the fact that I had many things to do before the show that night, I pulled off the freeway. It was about 2:00 or 2:00 P.M. when I pulled up into the parking lot and to a back entrance, clearly not for the common man (and I was certainly the common man in this scenario). I could see all the trucks and equipment down the road from this entrance. (The trucks and equipment necessary to put on a concert.) Here I am in my little blue Toyota Camary with a little amp in the back seat. "Hello, my name is Mitch Tobias, I'm Steve Lukather's guitar tech and I'm here to get to work," I said to the security guard. He said, "Okay, let me check the list and then we'll get 'ya rollin'. Just pull up to right to let the other folks through and I'll be right with you." Why, I asked myself, was I doing this? What were my chances? I certainly wasn't on the list -andSteve's guitar tech was probably already there anyway. In my rear view mirror I could see the guard checking his list once, checking it twice, then come out of the booth and over to me. "What's the name again?" he asked. "Tobias. T-O-B-I-A-S," I replied. At this point I was is performance-art mode. It was so out of my character and I had dug myself so deep, that I had to keep going with it. As he walked back to his booth again, I came up with the next strategy for when he came back to my car once more to tell me my name wasn't on the list. This time it would be anger. I was actually going to get mad at him for holding me up so long - figuring my antics would force him to break down and give me the 'ol "Go right ahead" wave. Here he comes again in my rear view mirror. My heart is beating very quickly. "Sorry, you're not on the list," he said regrettably. "Well can you call it in? Is there a way you could call backstage and confirm it that way?" I asked firmly. "Well there aren't too many folks here yet but I'll give it a try." Should I make a U-turn and speed off back down the hill and to the freeway, or wait until Steve Lukather comes up the driveway to punch me in the eye? I waited for Steve Lukather to punch me in the eye. The guard says, "Mr. Tobias, I can't get anyone up there, so you just go on in, you're fine". Then he gave me the "Go right ahead" wave. Flash: Sitting at the house sound board during sound check helping the engineer fold some cables, listening to Donald Fagen and Steve Lukather jam while Eddie Van Halen played a pair of congas. (I think I spotted Steve's guitar tech.) Henley walks up an aisle to check out the sound. The Press Conference: In the lobby of the Amphitheater was a press conference - a kind of media circus. Dog-eat-dog sleazy photographers and journalists who just got back from their manicurists, asking Eddie Van Halen, "What kind of pics do you use"? So they're all there; Steve Porcarro, Lukather, Crosby, McDonald, Henley, Boz, Simon Phillips and way in the corner, behind dark shades, hoping nobody calls his name, Donald Fagen. Questions were being thrown at all the guys - left and right. Nobody did call Donald's name - except of course for me. A strange silence for about five seconds caused me to raise my hand up in the air and say loudly, "DONALD FAGEN, THE FIRST TIME YOU WORKED WITH JEFF PORCARRO WAS ON THE KATY LIED ALBUM. CAN YOU TELL US WHAT IT WAS LIKE WORKING WITH HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THE STUDIO." After shaking off the intense shock of being addressed (and having been found in the corner of the room behind his glasses) he looked at me and answered my question. I had my compact tape recorder with me and got it all. "Uh. . . Jeff was. . . uh. . . like a lightning rod in the. . . studio. And. . . uh. . . I think it may have been the first time we met. . . well. . . there may have been one other time. . . maybe. I think. . . that was the only record. . . where one drummer was able to. . . he was such a virtuoso he could play on. . . all of the. . . varieties of. . . uh. . . of grooves that we were interested. . . in . . . uh, at the time. He was a great drummer and his personality came out in his drumming. He. . . really changed the way people. . .played drums." After the press conference I told him what an inspiration he was to me and he thanked me. . . nervously. This second exchange lasted about 4 seconds - for he had to get rolling. Then I got in my Camary and drove back home. I tried this at the Billy Ray Cyrus concert but wasn't successful.
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Cousin Zachary's Least Favorite Way to Die
Cousin Zachary and cousin Alexander (9 and 11 respectively) made their recording debut on Chronic Bliss. Zach's chortle can be heard at the head of 'Munchkins' and Alex's fart noises blended beautifully with the "envelope filtered bass" on the same track. Alexander digs singing the song along with the album while Zach prefers playing Bach pieces on the piano.
Zach and I once had a conversation about death - and more specifically, ways we would hate to die. Sampled here are two methods at the top of Zach's list: "My least favorite way to die" is falling off a cliff, then being thrown off into the sea, then a shark bites my leg off, then someone saves me. Then I'm life-flighted out in a helicopter and while I'm reaching for a salmon sandwich, I fall out. I land on a cactus, and I'm stranded in the middle of Death Valley, then I walk off a cliff, and my arms fall off, and I die of dehydration." Letter to a Neighbor April 15, 1993 Dear Neighbor, I must express my concern about a topic that has been on my conscience for the past month or so. This issue concerns "man's best friend", (the dog). Having a balcony next door to you, I can see that Blackie has been tied to a tree. The reason for this must be that he kept wanting to get out of the yard - and began digging underneath your fence. There is clear evidence that you had tried to remedy this problem by placing rocks where he could have freed himself. I realize you can't have your pet roaming the streets and climbing the mountains on his own, unattended. Your motive for the tieing is clear. Yet I have a feeling your pet was not consulted about the action. He doesn't seem very happy about it at all. (Especially when he gets all tangled in the swing set.) I hear him whining pretty much all day and night. And I haven't seen him out of the yard in weeks. Dogs like love and attention. They love going outside and socializing with other dogs. They're like kids. But when you treat them like animals, that's what they become. Blackie used to be the most friendly, energetic, warm dog on the street. Now he's a pathetic mammal tormented at the hands of humans who treated him like a new toy that they put on the shelf after a few months. I won't exit this letter without a suggestion. How about this - give me permission to come by the yard and take him out for walks. Or - do that yourself. Or - give him up for adoption. I'm sure there are lot's of people who would love the opportunity to care for Blackie. I don't want to create tension between neighbors I don't even know anyway. But if nothing is done, I'll be very upset and grow quite saddened at the prospect of your puppy's future. Sincerely,
Consumer Letter #1 May 24, 1994
EDEN FOODS, INC.
To Whom It May Concern, Having permanently switched from a diet of regular milk to your non-dairy soy beverage, I've become a new person. My mornings are no longer slushy from all that lactose in my system, and I feel as if my energy has picked up tremendously. However, my new founded healthy pizazz is going to waste before I even walk out the door to go to work. And it's all your fault. You see, your pouring spout is still in it's primal stages of evolution. I have two pairs of scissors. One is the larger, kitchen/industrial size. When I try to use these to cut through the "outlined guide" on your "evolving outlet" only the tip of the scissors are utilized. And if I'm lucky, only about 1/4 inch is cut into the spout. My other scissors are the smaller breed - office type. When I gave these a try, the blades came apart - lucky my scissors didn't break. So my next resort is to cut open the spout with a kitchen knife. I have to be very careful with this process for I don't want to slip and cut myself. With this procedure I put the container on a table about waist high, and carefully cut downward while the left hand holds out the triangle shaped nub of the spout. When I finally break through, and pour it on my cereal, the milk spurts every which way. Most often the milk ends up on the table. And then I need to find another device just to poke in that little hole on the top so that the air pressure is properly dispersed inside the container. A knife is usually too big. A pen too toxic. Maybe a skewer would work. I don't have one. Well maybe I just won't poke a hole and just squeeze the box really hard when I want milk to come out. (Like a cow.) By the time I start breakfast, I'm exhausted. Only you can help with my problem. I'm asking 1) for an explanation for your choice of spout, and 2) for you to study other packages and come up with a feasible remedy. Sincerely,
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