Blast from Past (Wichita KS scene)

I haven’t had mental capacity to put any reviews into comprehensive words so I’m sharing a journal entry from December 7, 1992. Last names are omitted and only last initials used to protect privacy. (If anyone reading this has even an exterior photo of The Ritz bar/club from that era in Wichita, I’ll be glad to link to it from this entry.)

It’s another open jam night at the Ritz–I am here–ah yes a Monday tradition–ritual for me now. Tonight–the Difference is hosting it. Brad C. is drumming–He’s of Thrill Hippies fame you know. They are playing lots of cover tunes–and quite well I might add–the vocalist’s voice is seeminly right for all the songs they’ve chosen. As this is being penned–they are performing “Knocking on Heaven’s Door.” There are 6 of them–2 guitars, a bassist, a keyboardist, drums, and the vocalist.

Brad has noticed me–I’m sure of it. If not, he soon will. I like watching him in action–he is so full of passionate energy when he plays–Ever since Sept 22, I seem to have been focusing more on the rhythm section of a band. Of course, I’ve always wanted to learn the drums. But you know parents–I couldn’t twirl a baton right either for that matter–

I watch Brad intently–(“I don’t wanna work. I wanna bang on the drums all day”) The cigarette lit–cherry glowing brightly–ashes–bright–flying away–burning holes in the jeans?

These guys even cover James Brown well! drinking beer–watching Brad–Yeah, I feel Good, Damn fuckin’ horrorshow good!

Marshall is missing–what’s up with that?!? Perhaps he just hasn’t arrived yet–but it’s past 11pm.

Flipside–to what? Ha! they sound good–but this mix is bad–Brad pointed it out to me–Of course he is correct as–well–let’s just say–sometimes–Ha!

Roger is here now too–sigh–he insists on getting me something for xmas–I don’t fuckin’ celebrate that holiday–I do get the day off that day because this is a fuckin’ Christian nation!

I’m sitting more or less in between Brad and Rog–it’s weird–because I had been dating Rog before–and now I am seeing Brad–God! Saturday night was good–the Great Mother Spirit has been good to me–On the way here–for example–she told me to hesitate as the arrow turned green–a fuckin’ semi–18 wheeler–blasted through the red light! I would have been killed or at least seriously injured! But back to this Brad v Rog thing–well I don’t know what to do–I love ’em both–they’re in the same band–THRILL HIPPIES! So it’s just going to be weird. Oh well– ‘cest la vie, ‘cest la guerre . . .

ZZ Top as a four piece?
Roger: “No I don’t think so. Not now, not ever! You look depressed. I hope that I don’t (or didn’t) contribute if you truly are.”

I have a lot on my mind I suppose–Chris, Brad, Roger–the band–even Clint is here just hangin’ tonight–hangin’–that reminds me–I have Brad to thank for securing the Budweiser bats for me–

The night is weird–the full moon approacheth!

I’ve been accused of being a groupie–NOT!–I desire more than that–agent perhaps?

Roger is great when he’s playin’ bass on stage–he’s a fuckin’ show off–ham–but that’s cool–people like that–high energy–it’s catching–the audience picks up on it–feeds off it–

Clint on keyboards? What’s up with that? Strange but true yes–Clint is the TH’s sound man–a buzz descends upon me–Marshall is here now–the Ritz is a “complete” place again–

Roger: “I’d like to suggest my theory– ‘that you simply are who you are, nothing more, nothing less.’ Stay that way!”

They say that art mimics life–so true so true–lyrics–true–inspired by life–music accompanying–yes–sometimes minor keys–yes art mimics depressing life . . .


About Kirsten Tautfest

Writer. I've done a lot of living in almost 40 years. My first two self-published books in print/Kindle are what I have termed serial soccer fiction. Red Tales is based around a professional soccer team, set in 1998 their inaugural year, and traces the lives of the players, staff, and fans and how they all intertwine and collide for better or for worse.
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