Zac's Not Dead

Sitting on the tour bus around midnight, at the end of that long day, Ricky (bass player & occasional back-up screamer for my band The Nixons) told me, “We just kept on playing after you fell off stage and disappeared. But I kept wondering…what if he’s dead down there. How long do we keep playing? Then you jumped back onstage”.

Earlier that day, at sound check at the lovely Patchogue Theater on Long Island, Michael (our sound man, tour manager and general fixer of all things) pulled me aside and said, “Zac look at this orchestra pit at the edge of the stage. That thing you do where you jump out into the audience…don’t do that tonight. That’s 8 feet down onto concrete.” This was the third to last stop on an amazing summer tour with Everclear & Fastball. And as fate would have it, during the end of our last song “1X1”, I stuck my boot out over that pit, slipped & fell backwards 8 feet down landing on my hand & hip. The ER doc told me later it was essentially the equivalent of a car crash. 

Still kinda sore a few months later. 

One broken finger, a few bruises and a surgery later…I’m able to reflect that all in all, I’m pretty lucky. Could’ve been worse. 

All the cliches apply. 

I had been joining Everclear during their set for their killer cover of “The Boys Are Back in Town”. I called Michael from the ER, told him to make sure Art (singer & badass for the band) knew that I wouldn’t be able to join them onstage tonight. He simply replied that everyone knew. However, Art told me the next day he had looked for me side stage before the Thin Lizzy cover & asked his monitor guy where I was. “Still at the ER I assume”. 

That’s how Art found out. The next night when he brought me up, he told the story of the orchestra pit only this time it was 9 feet. The next night, 12. By the time we played a festival a few weeks later, Art claimed I’d fallen 14 feet down. 

What’s that saying? Don’t let a lie get in the way of a good story…

My surgeon, Dr. Weikert (we had kids in school together, so I knew him to be a great dude & perhaps the best orthopedic hand doc in the country) told me post op, it was the worse break he’d seen. Knowing he’d worked on professional athletes here in Nashville, I asked how that could be possible. He simply replied, they were pads, gloves, protective gear. 

Ahh, yeah.

He also thought it would be funny to have Nixons music piped in during the surgery. As I drifted off, “1X1” began to play. Last thing I remember, I told them all “This is the song we were playing when I fell”. They got a kick out of that.

I am, in fact, thankful it wasn’t worse. I’m also happy to report, I somehow scampered up & out of that 16 feet deep orchestra pit to finish the set. It was also lucky the last two gigs were NYC & Boston where my two sons each live. They jumped up for those gigs to cover guitar duties for the injured me.

Finally, I am thrilled to answer Ricky’s question. 

Nope, not dead yet.

Chaos Theory

My kid isn’t a kid anymore. He’s a physics major in college.

Damn.

He was born the day the Nixons break up began. Now we’re back making loud noises and he’s kicking ass in his world. He mentioned this thing called Chaos Theory.

I won’t attempt to fully delve into it cause that would be hilarious. And stupid. But essentially, it’s a mathematical theory that states that events can go through the same process with completely different results if only one tiny thing changes.

It’s funny cause I always thought of a Nixons show as an experiment in chaos. And over the years I watch bands, solo artists and performers and start to notice patterns. Certain go to moves, certain cues they play off with band mates.

And full disclosure: I’m down with that. For those artists it works. They know what their crowd wants to see, to hear. I just always thought for our band, our fans needed a little chaos.

We needed a little chaos.

It’s also probably why we broke up, didn’t speak for 17 years and why we are now back together playing, writing, releasing music in a way I’m not sure we ever have. When a club owner asked me at one of the first reunion shows, “you gonna do fire”? I said, “I didn’t figure it would be okay”. He said, “if ya feel it, go for it…we got extinguishers on each side of the stage”. I did feel it, and we did burn some stuff.

Chaos.

We also moved and still move across the stage in a way that inevitably involves a collision. Me and Ricky. Jess and Ricky. Me and the drum riser. Or a fall: me off a lighting truss ending in jail in Houston. Ricky into his bass cabinet resulting in blood. Me off the side of a Deep Ellum stage ending in broken finger (thanks Dr. Tom for the late night reset). We have never ended “Happy Song” the exact same way. Or “1X1”(okay, that’s also cause I seem to forget a line or two every time we do it. Even after a million years).

Chaos.

We do the same thing. A rock show. Same guitars, drums, dudes. Generally, same songs…

Events can go through the same process with completely different results if only one tiny thing changes

Those last minute decisions to wear a towel as opposed to pants (Trees circa 90s), to duct tape my guitar to my body when my strap broke then light said guitar on fire and realize instantly that was a bad idea (east coast?), to smash a guitar that bounced back up to crack my head right around the widows peak area (Edgefest) (more blood), to jump into the drums and forget the next few seconds (black out) (Whiskey A-Go-Go).

That’s what we did and will do. To a different degree at the ages we all are. Though…I still love a little on stage fire and a dive out into those crowds.

Keep coming. Keep catching me.

Keep bailing me out of jail.

Keep the chaos.

z

Nixons rhymes with Kittens..kinda

I’m playing a co-headlining acoustic show soon with Tyson Meade. He was the frontman for the Chainsaw Kittens. I will now step outside my body, re-read that and truly not really be able to believe it. For those of you who don’t know the Kittens; here’s the perspective from me. Let’s back up and go to the brain (and heart and guts) of my 20 year old self. I was a student at OU in Norman, OK. Just getting my rock band, The Nixons, off the ground. What you do in that case is look around at other bands and artists. Here are the first two I had front and center in the local scene: Flaming Lips and Chainsaw Kittens. Both those bands moved us in a massive way. Now, if you know The Nixons music, you’re thinking...what the hell? There’s not much of those bands influence in The Nixons. But, yeah there is. Especially the live shows. They both rocked. They went all out. All in. Lights. Sweat. Show. And personality. They were just cool. And we just wanted to be some version of that.

Fast forward to an event I founded, The Oklahoma Songwriters Festival. Last year was year 3. It’s a 3 day event where we bring in songwriters from Nashville to perform, write and talk music in OKC. On the way to an event one night I get a text:

“...Tyson Meade here. I am proud of what you’re doing with your song fest. I would love to introduce you at the Saturday event and say a few words”.
He did intro me that year and tell flattering stories and say nice things. Fast forward again (last time) to this past Fest. He got on stage and we performed “She’s Gone Mad” together. Rewind (last time for that too) to me playing

acoustic gigs in Norman in college. I played songs and many nights not many people paid much attention. But that song. It was by that cool band that literally lives down the street. Made those nights better. Getting to duet it with Tyson over 20 years later was truly awesome.

Now, the moment that might just best it (woven into a shameless plug). Tyson and I will share the stage again in Tulsa July 26. Vanguard (plug #2: go buy tickets). We will trade songs. I will sing one, then the Kitten, then the Nixon, etc.

Selfishly, I would’ve done this just for fun. No money. Don’t tell the Vanguard that.

“She’s gone mad again, she does it silently. And all of the feathers from her pillow fall on the floor. And does this mean, she doesn’t love me anymore?”

GETTIN' THE BAND BACK TOGETHER

We all hugged mildly awkward hugs and started loading in drums, guitars and amps into a friend's sound and lighting company in OKC (he'd given us a big area with a PA to rehearse). We sifted through "what you been up to's" and "I can't believe your kid I haven't seen in over a decade's going to college" and "what was that one guys name that used to run lights at Trees?" We recounted stories about bars, shows, stages, green rooms, vans, trailers, the RV, buses, bus drivers, studios, video sets and yeah, even jail (that last one will have to be a blog unto itself). As I listened and talked and watched each band member shuffling around from guitar case to amp or tightening a snare drum it hit me again: us 4 human beings had not been in the same room together in over 15 years. All that life we'd lived together then suddenly...poof, it just wasn't. My band the Nixons formed in 1990 in Norman, Ok and rumbled along till somewhere in the beginning the new century when we just walked away. And here we were together after all that time.

We got down to business finally as I said something like...
"Well, let's do this"
First song on the set list, "Head"...
4 high hat hits...
Big e chord then I start singin' "Lonely little girl on your island..."
Wow. Felt pretty much like we'd just done it last week.
Weird. Cool.

Jesse's guitar amp was still too loud. Ricky's too. John was too loud but, yeah, John hits hard. But it just didn't matter. We just locked back in and jammed songs we'd not played together since before my oldest son was born (he's going to college this year). The shows were great fun. We even recorded a new song called "Song of the Year." And thanks to modern tech: we all tracked in different cities but made it happen.

So there ya go. Make music together and you can always come back together. Reminisce. Rock. Create.
Funny. Music connects and revives.
Keep listening.

z