Greg Jones ruminates:

Well, it was an absolute milestone in my life and a total dream come true. Spock’s Beard has been my favorite band since seeing them headline the first NEARfest – the consummate professional prog gods who have more fun playing live than anybody in the world and whose audience gets sucked up in the whirlwind of joy every single time. I have badgered, threatened and derided otherwise good friends for being too friggin’ stupid to go see them at 11 PM on a Monday night, written lengthy prose about the life-changing qualities of their magical music and basically made an all-around pest out of myself till everyone I meet knows their name.
NOW, as if by Divine Providence, by the immeasurable grace of God and the vast kindness of Jim Robinson, we were going to get to play on the same bill.
Sweet!!!
It didn’t matter that I was sick as a dog and coughing uncontrollably to the point of gagging and falling to my knees – I’d still been practicing every day and NOTHING was going to prevent this show from going on. With my long-suffering wife shaking her head in disbelief at the early hour of my departure, I set out on my adventure around noon, the entire Beard catalog blaring throughout my van buoying up and improving the excited song in my heart.
An hour later I arrived at Karl Eisenhart’s, only to find he’d already carried my drums up from our rehearsal space in his finished and spacious basement and all I had to do was empty my coffee biz boxes into his garage and reload the van with the magical wooden shells and shimmering cymbals that seduce my creative impulses out of hiding. Karl is a saint when it comes to loading equipment in and out and being EXTREMELY patient with middle-aged drummers who are always late. In my illness-weakened state, I have never been so appreciative of that as I was today.
Arriving at the venue, (and what a beautiful little theater for a rock show it is!) I saw the mighty Ryo Okumoto setting up his wizard’s workshop of iconoclastic ivories as the happy roadies were still carrying great gargantuan gobs of gear in. Quickly sensing that it would be a while before we would be asked to carry our stuff in, I sought out the stage manager and asked him if there was 45 minutes to go to nearby Café Rock and brew some coffee to bring back for my heroes to partake of. “Forty five? More like at least an HOUR and forty five minutes!” Smiling, I agreed to pick up some 9 volt batteries for him while I was out and off I went.
A bit of confession here. I could barely speak without coughing to the point of suffocation, yet I couldn’t possibly have explained my weakened state to everyone carrying road cases in and out, so it was inevitable that I would have wound up helping with the setup – I couldn’t have refused all the requests to help – just not WIRED to say “No” sometimes - and I just wasn’t strong enough to spend my small reserve of energy that way when I knew I’d need every bit of it in a few hours to make it through the performance. So my getting away to get coffee, while primarily to share it with the band and crew, was also slightly an act of self preservation and I’m glad I did.
To any of you on the THOUGHTS list, Café Rock and it’s owner Kevin Brennan are the stuff of legend by now. Not only has he spared no expense in getting a state of the art water system to ensure consistently perfect water conditions for correct extraction during the brewing process, but he became a rabid Beard fan and actually started selling their cds to his customers in large quantities, making many a convert. Plus, he’s just a really great guy. Anyone who loves and promotes Spock’s Beard plus insists on wonderful coffee – well, what’s not to admire about a guy like THAT?!?!?!? Anyone who visits New Jersey and doesn’t make a pilgrimage to this oasis of quintessential quality refreshment needs their head examined.
Anyway, he was there and quickly got his staff to clear a path for me to brew my airpots. He also introduced me to a guy named Mike there who was a customer, who had just come from the Beard’s in-store acoustic set at Vintage Vinyl Records and was coming to the show that night. It was a pleasure to meet yet another SB fan and listen to him wax effusively about how the Mighty Beard has changed his life as well. Kevin asked if I thought the band would sign an electric guitar so he could mount it on the café wall and I said that I KNEW they would. Coffees brewed, music in the air, Kevin wished me leg breakage and I was off again to the land where dreams come true, namely, any concert promoted by Jim Robinson.
In came the coffees! The Beardos were all there now and Al and Nick wasted no time in getting some coffee. Meanwhile, I struck up a conversation with the always-friendly Dave Meros who offered enthusiastic congrats and encouragement to my band mates and I that we were going to open the show. He also kindly offered me his take on the lyrics and musical genesis of the wonderful Ghosts Of Autumn after I told him how much I liked it. Nothing as cool as an approachable rock star, is there? That can actually play and write great music.
Dave got called to the stage and Karl, Bill and I were discussing how some of the folks setting things up were getting antsy about how far behind schedule things were. We quickly began discussing what song or songs we would drop from our set to make sure that the Beard had a full slot. Nick D’Virgilio, he of the golden throat, devout acolyte’s disposition and baddest ass groove of all time, happened by us at that moment and said “No. You guys are playing your full set. Don’t trim it or cut out anything. We insist. We’ll have plenty of time.”
How do you not love this man? Especially when you realize that this was the exact OPPOSITE attitude of almost every headliner in the history of rock towards their opening act? From setup to sound check to load out and all points in between, Nick and the guys made us feel like we were every bit as important to the show that night as they were.
My band mates and I will never forget it.

Click here for part two.