My Solo Set: Jackson Browne, Indigo Girls, to Bill Staines

Blame it on Bill Staines.
It’s because of him that I may miss or be late for class tomorrow. It’s because of him that I may be tired as I make that 3 hour drive south with two of my sons. Hey, but that’s what friends are for, to give you that little detour from your everyday (or every night) patterns. How could I say no to a few of my favorite things, reading, storytelling, and music. He gave me all three in the form of his book or autobiography. So I’m up late reading and now starting to do another favorite thing, write.
I came to K-town (Keshena) to play for another benefit. I had $15.00 to my name and an empty gas tank as I rolled in with hopes to sell a few CDs so I could make it back home. It was billed as the Winter Folk Fest at the Menominee College and proceeds were to benefit Habitat For Humanity, or a home built in the Menominee and Shawano areas.
The line up included friends and friends-to-be such as Dorothy Zerbe, Clif Ebertson, Patchouli, myself, and the headliner Bill Staines.

Most people that knew me as a musician up in the rez area, knew me as an electric guitarist with a band. This was a folk concert. I’ve only done a handful of solo performances, but I really do enjoy them. In fact my first real solo acoustic performance came as an opening act for Jackson Browne and The Indigo Girls in 2000. My friend Annie Humphrey was also on the bill so I guess I opened for her too. It was also my 2nd gig playing original music. I remember being a little confident until it got to be around show time. Then I began to feel the ice in the pit of my stomach. Nerves were getting the best of me and internally I began shaking more than Elvis’s leg. Just as I was about to walk through the curtain and out on to the stage there was Annie standing in front of the curtain with a remedy, she made this goofy face, and said Yooooouuuu! It shattered my icicles and I walked out on stage pretending to tear open an envelope saying, “And the MeNominees are….” The predominantly Menominee audience shared a belly laugh and I was set to go. I played Cages, Baby Wade, Blues For the River (almost debut), and two songs I wrote influenced by the life of a great friend of the family, Opeqtaew Metamoh or Ingrid Washinawatok. They played footage of her as I sang my songs. Ingrid was a strong Menominee woman who did a lot for indigenous people around the world and was executed in Columbia while working with the traditional Uwa people. Her death affected me deeply. I felt something, some kind of strong connection to her passing that turned into two songs on my debut CD. I played them for her mom, Gwen and sister, Gina after I wrote them and to make sure it was okay with them for me to put them on the CD. I remember they cried and said it was a good thing for me to do this. It was powerful. In fact the whole process of that CD was like a heavy spiritual experience.
It was because of Gina that I played with Jackson Browne and the Indigo Girls. The Honor the Earth Tour was making its final stop in Keshena, a town on my reservation. They chose our reservation because Ingrid was a good friend of theirs and they wanted to honor her.
I remember after my set, Jackson Browne asked if I would like to set in with him. I jumped at the opportunity because just being a guitar player was like my home turf, I felt I could hang with almost anybody and be able to compliment there music. I’m not saying I’m better than anybody else or a technical monster at all. I just like to add some sweetness or some snot or some splashes of speed, but only if and when the music calls for it. That’s what gets me off. It’s all about the music. Anyway, here I was jamming with one of my big influences in front of my home crowd. One of my favorite slide guitarists, former Jackson Browne sideman, David Lindley, used to be doing the same thing I was doing up there on that stage.
After Jackson’s set the Indigo Girls came on. I had never met them before but Amy & Emily are so cool and genuine, I would love to do a tour with them more than most anyone. We continue our friendship today. They invited us all up to jam with them, Jackson, Annie, a member of Ulali, and we did Rock Me On the Water. I got a nice guitar solo in that one. It was really a great spark at the beginning of my career as a singer/songwriter.
20 feet from that stage was the practice rooms of my old high school. The place where I would get out of study hall so I could go and play guitar. The tiny practice rooms that were packed with students requesting songs for me to play until the music teacher would catch them and kick them out.
I would return several more times to that stage, speaking and/or performing for the school and the Menominee community and I probably always will until I’m too old to make it up on that stage.

At the benefit I first did a songwriting workshop along with Bill, Dorothy, and Patchouli. I chose to do a song called, Gift For You, that I had written the night before and I surprisingly remembered most of the melody and chords. I didn’t even try to remember the words, but I had it typed out and had my eyes glued to the page. The response was nice and I thanked them for letting me ‘practice.’ When my turn came back around, I did “When It’s Time” another song that is very young.

7:00 I did my set.
Later I sat in with Bill Staines. I played the cedar flute on a couple of his songs. I met him at the Shawano Folk Festival last August. We hit it off then and he had me join him onstage once on guitar and once on flute. I remember afterwards when I mentioned him to a few people, they were like, “You played with Bill Staines?” I’m so new to the folk scene that I had no idea that he was a held in such high regard in the folk world. I just knew him as a friend.

I think it’s true that you can become successful by who you know. But I believe that real success comes from the internally rewarding friendships you develop with who you come to know. I really don’t care too much for the superficial relationships that some people develop to get “success.” In fact I am terrible at being fake. When I’m in a room with a bunch of people that are all either thirsting for success or looking to find the next Elvis, I just want to go back home on the rez and play guitar or sit by the river. For example, I was in LA once at the Kodak Theatre for a party for the Native American category of the GRAMMYs. This one slick agent with a painted on smile was introduced to me, he grabbed my hand and shook it enthusiastically saying, “Man I love your stuff. I’ve got all of your recordings (I only had one CD at that time)! Come and see me in my office tomorrow.” Fortunately for me, he suddenly saw a bigger fish walk in and his bullshit was gone just as quick as it came. The saving grace of that trip was hanging in LA with my good friend and big bro’ Adolphus. Real people are what inspires us to really live as we walk among those who only pretend to live.

On Motivation
I used to listen to self-help tapes and read the books when I was young and it helped me in different ways. The only problem is that you have to think of it like exercise. First you learn how to do it and then you must exercise it every day. Also remember, it's not how much you know, it's how you really use, what you know. So in other words, don't try to read every book or tape on the subject. Just take one good method or idea and put into daily practice. Then you can build from there. Like exercise, you can't bench 300 lbs. the first day, you start with one push up and then build up to where you need to be.
You have the ability!

When we acknowledge our demons and expose them, they lose their power, and our potential becomes limitless. Especially, when we direct it in a good way.
Your spark is about to roar!

GRANDMA

Not much longer in this world. Grandpa’s callin’. Body is so tired. Tired heart beating what’s left of life. Daughter of a blind father and an orphan mother. Nurse says it could be anytime now.
My oldest son and I head out early Saturday morning. All of 6 with long hair and guitar in tow. I bring a cedar flute but not sure if I’ll play. Lil’ Wade is set on playing 3 songs for her “because the doctors don’t know if she was going to live the rest of her life.”
Such a strong woman. Morning finds her sitting up in a chair, dressed for the day with beautiful silver hair laying in a soft silken braid. Her smile chases any brooding or sympathy from the room and sets the stage for memories of gold.
I take a close up shot of Lil’ Wade’s 6 year old hand holding gently to her’s of 87 years. He surprises her with youthful talent as little fingers dance and sing the fretboard, a song for a tired but warm heart.
We talk of her early years. From a country girl to a teenage maid in Milwaukee, scrubbing, cleaning, and baking for a retired dentist. Nights were for blowing the harmonica, going to the movies, parties, and catching a glimpse of the German theatre. Married a jack-of-all; trapper, storyteller, logger, musician, and farmer. Remembers more than books. Blessed with a memory that cuts through dates and times as if they warm butter spread on fresh homemade bread.
But pills keep sending clouds of sleep. My shoulder, a cloud for a weary head, catches her between her moments of waking and smiling. Words are not strong enough for these moments, so silence stays gold and sleep is beauty.
Lil’ Wade tells me to play my native flute for her as she becomes fully awake. Amazing Grace never blew through these lips but now weaves rich harmonics through a cedar cavern to caress hungry ears and feed the spirit. Peace and light blanket the room and warm our hearts as we smile our physical goodbyes.

Dec. 8, 05 to Nov. 92, to Rez Kid years

MIAMI

The Deaville Beach Resort, Miami Beach. I was performing in the same place that the Beatles played for their second United States show in 1964.

I knew I was in Miami when I stepped off the plane, wearing my Wisconsin winter jacket, and was greeted by an ice cream vending machine.
It was so hot and humid but I had to keep my hot jacket on since my hands were already full of luggage.

SWITZERLAND SIDETRACK

It reminds me of the first time I went to Switzerland. It was ’92 and I hadn’t ever really traveled too far from the rez’ yet. My friend, Waubano and I were invited to go on tour with this Cheyenne/Arapaho/Hopi singer/songwriter dude by the name of Mitch Walking Elk. At that time, the word Switzerland only conjured up images of cold frozen mountains and St. Bernard dogs always coming to the rescue. I left Wisconsin on a frigid November day wearing big snow boots and was bundled up ready for the cold Swiss winter. As we flew down into Switzerland I was a bit surprised seeing no snow. I sheepishly descend the ramp from the plane wearing these big arctic boots that I had spent all of my money on for the trip. I had to carry them big things with me for the whole tour. I remember that I even saw palm trees in southern Switzerland (Lugano) on that tour. I guess I used to watch too much TV back then.

MORE ON MIAMI (or moron in Miami)

Speaking of palm trees, let’s forward back to the present in Miami. I came here to do an Art Burst paid performance for the National Performance Network and to also attend their conference. It’s not often that you get paid to go to Miami in December, and coming from 0 degree Fahrenheit weather in Wisconsin, it’s quite a treat. I just wish I would have been paid enough to bring my family.

NOKOMAEH

I opened the conference performing a piece called, Nokomaeh/Nenah Kemanon Nokomaeh. It is a piece that I feel awkward putting my name to, because it seemed to write its self, or be written by my ancestors (namely my grandmother’s spirit). I feel like I was just the tool that was luckily sharp enough at the time to be used for getting it out. When I perform it I also try to step out of the way and let it perform itself.

The performance turned out great. Throughout the weekend, a lot of people commented on being emotionally touched by the piece. One lady said she felt the spirit of Flying Eagle Woman in the room. I didn’t know this lady prior to this trip, I was confused and wondered if she was tripping until she said she had been a friend of Ingrid Washinawatok (Flying Eagle Woman) and if I had known her. This blew me away because Ingrid was a very good friend of the family and also Menominee like me. I thanked the nice lady for sharing that with me and felt goose bumps on my arm. Another person commented that when I stopped performing my piece, they could still feel and hear the music continuing on.

You become the music, not it’s dictator.
My best performances and most powerful songs seem to happen when I seem to be less involved in the process and become an instrument rather than the musician or composer. It’s as if the ancestors and the Creator just work through you because you took your selfish and critical self out of the picture.

Possibilities for the future from this conference are gigs in Ecuador, Peru, Dallas, and Houston.

THE SMELLY FEET

I had a roommate assigned thoughout the Miami conference, I had never met him before and didn’t really see him during the first few days because he wouldn’t get in ‘ till after I had gone to bed, and wouldn’t wake up until after I had gone. Saturday morning I woke up and it smelled like someone had some pretty stinky feet. I went to the side of the room where my roommate was sleeping to get something off the table and the smell became stronger.
I thought man it’s too bad the windows don’t open up here on the 10th floor.

The day before, while walking along the beach, I had found this cool piece of coral that was shaped like half dog and half dragon. I brought it back to the room to let it dry out and get hard so I could bring it home for my kids. Later, several hours after the smelly feet morning, I found my find wrapped up inside a plastic bag in the bathroom. It was then that I realized from the smell coming from the bag that the source of the stinky feet smell was not my roommate. It was the decomposing dragon-dog. I decided to leave it there since it was almost impossible to dry it out in a humid Miami hotel room before I left. I later caught up with my roommate and confessed of my evil thoughts concerning the stinky feet that he didn’t have. He thought it was me the whole time. We had a good belly laugh over that one.

Saturday eve over dinner I talked with a good friend from Dallas about our ancestors and the roles they play in our lives. She is my elder and though she comes from the African-American culture and I come from the (Omaeqnomenew) Menominee culture, we share many cultural similarities. We likened the New Orleans loss of culture and relocation to that of some of my own people when they were taken from their homeland and placed in the cities.

In the Miami airport I had the peculiar experience of talking to a man from Vancouver, who had the same amount of children as I, the same sexes; 3 boys and one girl, the same order boy, girl, boy, boy, and the same age grouping, 5, 4, 2, and 1 (almost). His kids were much older now, but we both had a coincidental shared experience.

TOO GOOD FOR ME, OR NOT?

Chicago airport I sit in an empty chair next to an older Euro-American lady. She was sitting quite comfortably with her legs resting over her luggage, shoes off, that is, until I sat next to her. She quickly gathered herself back together and speedily vacated the area. My first reaction was drawn from my experiences as a reservation kid. I thought maybe it was because of my color or features. I knew my feet didn’t smell too bad and I was wearing deodorant. My next thoughts were maybe she was just hungry because I broke out a salad and some cashews that I picked up in O’Hare. I finally rested on the conclusion that it was her choice and that I’m only wasting my time trying to crawl inside her head to find my own justifications.

RESERVATION KID BLUES

I remember when I was a child, walking into a store in Shawano, a nearby town to my reservation (Menominee). I was about 5 or 6 and the elder ladies would follow me sternly all over the store watching me like a hawk. I never noticed her or the other employees ever following any of the non-reservation kids like my family or myself. I also never caused any trouble (at least in that place). But I remember the ladies at the dime store making you feel as if you were doing something wrong by just walking in. This was one of several experiences, in less and more severity, as I was growing up as a kid from the Menominee Reservation.

OK, one more.

PICKING BLUEBERRIES AT GUNPOINT

I was the same age and my mom, dad, older sister (7), and toddler brother were picking blueberries on the side of the road. The area was called Legend Lake on my reservation and it was occupied by Menominees and those we called Legend Lakers. Legend Lakers were generally Euro-Americans that had enough money to own a second (summer) home on our beautiful lake on the reservation.
Well, my dad had our family rez car parked on side of the gravel road as we picked the wild blueberries in the ditch and tried to fill our plastic gallon milk jugs, that had been sliced so the upper front corner had enough room for two handfuls of blueberries to fit inside. I usually had one handful reserved for the jug and the other for painting my mouth.
A nice car with a muffler and no rust pulled up next to ours and sat there with its quiet engine idling. My dad being the friendly man that he is, put down his blueberry jug and walked up to the car with a smile on his face. Without turning around and with no evidence of a smile in his voice he shouted, “Get in the car kids.” My mom quickly gathered her little flock together and we stumbled into our 4-door. I thought it to be rather strange, so from the back seat I stood up and looked out the back window. There was my dad walking slowly towards us with his hands up in the air and an older Caucasian man with a gun pointed against my dad’s back. My heart beat hard and I wanted to jump out of the car and beat the mean old man up before he shot my dad. But I knew already that an action like that would take some very sneaky moves and I hadn’t watched enough episodes of Kung Fu, yet.
It turned out that the man owned some property and a house nearby and thought we were going to steal something. Can you see my seven year old sister, me 5, and my 1 year-old brother, crawling through a window smearing our little blueberry hands all over their pretty little walls. Then dumping all our blueberries on their rugs so we can fill our cut out milk jugs with their stash of valuable twinkies and oyster crackers. Then as we start making our get-away my little brother stashes his stinky diaper behind the toilet bowl.

The local conservative headlines would have read,
“The Notorius Baby Gang From Da Rez Strikes Again. Too small for security sensors these slimy, buggery little buggers, buggered up another bungalow!”

I can make jokes about it now but I can still feel that gun in my dad’s back.

www.wadefernandez.com

8/26-27/05


photo by Deseroka

We had a prime slot. 7:30pm on a Saturday night at a two day outdoor music festival--The Wolf River Protection Fund Concert on the Mole Lake Reservation in Wisconsin.
A concert for a cause with an audience of 20,000 I was told.


"Church Vibe"

I arrived on Friday night b4 my Saturday gig and was able to check out a little of the Jerry Garcia Band. Melvin Seals was cool on the keys. A nice feel. Melvin calls it the "church vibe." It's that organic soul of blues, funk and gospel meshed together.

I played at a black church in Milwaukee for about 3-4 months and that vibe was there. The keyboardist sang kind of like Luther Vandross but with a little more edge to his voice and played a pretty mean B3 organ with keyboard bass. His son was only 11 but played just as good as anybody but also had that "church vibe." I played electric guitar through an old late 50s accordian tube amp. We had some of the coolest jams. A lot of improv that I wish I would have caught on tape. It was also a lot of fun playing call and response with the preacher as his sermons rose in intensity. I wasn't a member of their church but that didn't matter they were happy to have me jamming and used to come up and say man you sure you ain't part black. As time went on I became to busy to do the gig every Sunday and gave it up. But I still remember it as one of the coolest gigs I've had.

Burnt Toast and Jam

Saturday I woke up a bit tired after hunting down my band from the hotel phone all night. I had found out when I arrived on Friday night that I had been misled with thinking there was a backline and had to tell my band to bring their amps, my amp, and the drumset.
I soon remembered I was going to set in with Burnt Toast and Jam at 1:15pm before my band went on in the evening. I was excited because BT & J are made up of some great friends with a unique style of cool original music (Dewgrass) that always keeps me on my toes and smiling every time I set in. They have a pretty cool new CD called "Lost In the Woods" that I was honored to play on.

John (percussion) and Todd (bass) held down the groove while Tim (acoustic gtr), Kirby (banjo), Pat (dobro & acstc gtr), and I floated over the top and plugged in some choice holes. They do the harmony vocal thing like a bluegrass group but also can rock out a little. The site of the concert used to be the location of a large bluegrass festival, so BT &J performed songs that made reference to it. Tim broke two strings on his acoustic during the set but the energy kept flowing. At one point in the show I looked out and saw my good friend Clint Miller the reknowned native musician smiling and giving a thumbs up. It is always good to see him. He's like a little brother and best friend combined. When we finished our set everyone wanted to keep going.

WADE FERNANDEZ GROUP

My usual Black Wolf Band were contracted for a gig in Chicago way before this Mole Lake Concert was booked. So I had to pull a band together quick. My uncle Mario Fernandez was this great bass player from the 70s-80s and then kind of quit. I called him up and asked him if he'd like to play in front of 20,000 people (earlier I was told that 20,000 tickets had been sold for the festival) and he said it was the opportunity he was looking for to get started playing again. So he was in. My friend "Buzzy" Brian Agustine played one gig with me in Cleveland over the summer and he was in as well. My bass player, Bryan Mir said he was available and is a killer guitarist so I asked him to play guitar. We rehearsed Monday and Friday before the gig and then took it to the stage Saturday night.

We started with Rain Woman
I began to improvise with my A minor cedar double flute and then the band began to add atmosphere with cymbals, bass pedaling the key note and guitar layers. The audience grew quiet and just stared. Then we went into the song and it sounded pretty good. Way better than our rehearsal. I closed my eyes and really felt the melody sing out of my flute. When I started to play the guitar solo. I noticed the guitar mix in the monitors was way too loud. I used my best Indian hand signals (smile) to tell the man on the monitor mix to turn it down. He didn't speak Menominee so he came over after the song and asked me what I wanted. I soloed on the guitar more lyrical than anything else. I felt like throwing in some flourishes a few times but the music said no thanks and I listened this time. When we finished the tune. I heard comments from the audience that it was beautiful. It was a nice moment. Kind of like when I play in Europe and the audience is quiet throughout the song until the last note.

Next was an honoring for the organizers of the benefit concert. They really deserved it since it was for such a great cause (preserving the beauty, pristineness, and sacredness of the Wolf River). I performed an honor song on the hand drum for them.

After that it was time to rock and we did with A Fool's Gold. Bryan and I traded solos during the last solo section. It's nice to have another guitar player in the band that can kick your butt every once in awhile and make you play better.

We also did Discovering America which is a ton of fun to jam on because it's melodic but yet you can cut loose on it, a different version of Red House, Play That Guitar Man (Deadly Jam), Commodity Cheese Blues (watch the award winning music video)(watch the award winning music video) , One Way Out, Funky 49, A Guitar Chants For the People (my friend Darren Thompson set in and played some good flute), and Reservation Line which gathered a lot of applause with its fast blues shuffle tempo. It would have been a good finale had it ended right there but we wanted to take them somewhere else first.
So we finished the set with Mosquito
It begins kind of mysteriously over a V#5 chord with a 6/8 jazz rock feel. Then it eases gently into the i minor chord with the vocals. It builds and builds to quite an intense ending. I let myself go with this one, took my hands off the wheel and let the music drive as my body flowed with the notes coming through my guitar. Buzzy and Mario really laid down a fat groove on this one. The audience came along for the ride and let us know it when we ended.

When we finished our set, the audience was screaming for more. The radio MCs were announcing INDIGENOUS was coming out next and someone shouted out in reference to us, "That's going to be a hard act to follow." But I knew Indigenous would have no problem following us so I just smiled at the compliment and kind of shook my head a little.

INDIGENOUS

When I walked off the stage my friend Wandbi, the drummer from Indigenous said, "You guys were great!" We gave a hug of greeting and she introduced me to her mom who was on tour with them and helping to sell the CDs. She seemed to be a real nice lady with a warm smile and I was honored to meet her. Pte and Mato also gave nice compliments. They are nice people that I've known since sharing a bill in Minneapolis at First Act (where Prince filmed part of Purple Rain). I was then backing up my big brother Mitch Walking Elk. The thing that is really special about them is not only their musical skills but they are also a native family band. The only other group like that I know of are my friends, Blackfire.
Indigenous rocked with a blistering set as usual. Wandbi and Pte laid down the heavy grooves while Mato let his guitar scream over the top.
Afterwards I gave them a copy of my new video "Commodity Cheese Blues" (click on the videos link) and we said our see ya laterz.

THE CAUSE

The concert was about much more than the music. It was about the preservation of one of our greatest gifts--our natural resources. The Wolf River runs through the heart of my reservation, (Menominee). It has been a source of sustenance for our people and for all of the animals and plants. It is also one of the most pristine rivers in the U.S. and was one of the most threatened in the USA when the mining companies held the title to the mine site. There were many efforts to stop the mine for many years. My wife and I helped to organize and partake in a walk/run called NEPEW (means water in Menominee but see the links below for the acronym and more about the walk) in support of this issue several years ago before we were married. A lot of people have come together to fight for the river and to make a long story short, the people won and the multinational mining corporation lost. Well almost, the Mole Lake tribe is trying hard to foot the bill for purchasing the mine site. If they don't come through then the mining companies can have another crack at it.
NEPEW
walk
Please go to Wolf River Protection Fund to read more about and if you can please make a donation.


Waewaenen for your interest and I will keep posting as I can!


Wade Fernandez/Wiciwen Apis-Mahwaew

www.wadefernandez.com