All right, so these two musician-contemporaries -- fellow new wavers -- come into the place, looking to talk to me. They weren’t, as it turned out, hungry & thirsty: they wanted to recruit me. And here I was, thinking they needed something tangible!
“You can be center stage -- you can be our Grace Slick!” Tom enthused, following me as I marched toward the kitchen to place a food order. He knew that it bugged me when I was relegated to the back and side of the stage when I was in Nervus Rex and Shawn needed more room in the middle. . . we started out sharing the stage, then as time went on we set up so that he was THE cynosure.
Do what you will with me but show some respect, OK? Because of stuff like that where I felt slighted, I felt bad about being in a group once Nervus Rex broke up, which is why I tried to go solo -- but it wasn’t such a happening thing. I get nervous as a solo, and I didn’t have the necessary confidence; it’s not natural to me. ‘Cause, to me, building confidence is a mysterious process that takes years. I’m better now, but still. . . . Funny thing: I have a pretty big ego but not always the greatest self esteem. Now, how those two things can be contradictory is indeed interesting: a funny puzzle I’ll probably always puzzle over.
At any rate, when Tom Goodkind and Bruce Jay Paskow approached me to join them in a band that was a combination of The Weavers (they were huge fans of the documentary, “Wasn’t That a Time?”) and Peter, Paul & Mary (but hipper and more ironic), I was intrigued. The concept seemed to have more substance than just the usual ol’ sex, drugs, and Rock & Roll. Vocal harmonies were my pleasure and forte; folk music was pleasurable, albeit not real cool.
As is my wont with most new ventures and things that sound interesting, I said (in Curly Joe Three Stooges voice), “Why, SOI-tenly (certainly)!”
Maybe Tom Goodkind also knew that I was a fan of Grace Slick’s. . . though that ended after I read her memoir years later, however. . .