Hi Mitzi: Just want to drop you a line and let you know that this NAMM show was a huge moment for Farnell Guitar history. We were all blessed by magical music performances by Shawn Lane and Jonas Hellborg. Everyone from Leroy Braxton(Guitar Center Hollywood Vintage shop) to George Lynch came by to check out what we were doing. The music dialogue that was exchanged by these two players were just absolutely timeless. No doubt that the bootleg video of these performances will end up at some GIT students'collection. I have attach a photo of this incredible duo from one of the NAMM day.
photo credit is to Kat T-Wong
I'll keep you posted on more of Farnell development, we have a huge thing coming this summer. Sincerely,
Jeffrey Wong
Farnell Guitar
extraordinary guitar for the extraordary player

hi guys,
firstly i'd like to thank shawn,mitzi,roy,brit,alexis,jamie and all the boys down the studio for the greatest 3 days of my musical life by far,i still cant believe what transpired there wow...........
i promise to share my experience with you all at some stage very soon either here or at mitzi's site but at the moment i dont know where to start,it was THAT good for 3 days(minus my bus trip to grace lands and my missing luggage of course!LOL) from the very first moment i met mitzi(complete with a "good day mate" sign on the car instead of "g'day mate"!LOL) i knew she was going to be a special ride.no cordial introductions etc. etc. here,i was met by a big hug and an even bigger smile to welcome me to the lane family and from that point on i felt totally at ease and right at home.at no point did i even feel anything like a guest or visitor to their surroundings such was their acceptance of me and it is that one aspect alone that will live with me the longest,better people i am yet to meet.i vividly remember talking with mitzi and roy about many things over a few ribs and buds at a corkys diner one night(ahhhhhh them ribs sis',they were tooooooooo much!LOL) and it was such a great feeling to be able to have a good HONEST conversation with them free of all the watered down political correctness waffle for a change,just good old fashioned opinions and perspectives shot straight from the hip with out the trimmings.if brisbane in australia is a poor man's L.A. then i have no doubt that the southern states of america are the australian bushman's kindred spirits as well!some of roy's takes on certain issues were so down home they should be bottled!LOL what a champion man and as far as mitzi goes well, they have a "queen" in memphis to go with their "king" as far as im concerned put it that way! just the nicest person on the planet,i was humbled to the point of embarrasment by her never ending great naturedness and selfless gestures,i can never repay you hun' thank you so much,you've killed me.......... finally a quick snippett about the man himself...
we spoke about a myriad of subjects did shawn and i and his knowledge of all things we touched on were A plus with higher distinctions as those of you who have met shawn will bare testimony. he spoke of the idiosyncracies of my culture as one can only speak about it with a prior in depth knowledge,he'd read literature and spoke to other australians previous to me of that im certain.you cant just find a dr zuess "down under in three easy pages" book and ask some of the things he did of my country.his alround intelligence is staggering.from our first subject concerning indian music(of which he spoke of with a knowledge and passion that could only be surmised as "local") to our final subject of things to get up to in amsterdam and everything in between it was one thesis after another.he's scratched beneath the shell of millions of subjects to have an understanding of them,what an intellect and more importantly,what a great humble guy.i feel so priviledged to have spent the time i did with shawn,hes just the greatest guy imaginable and made me feel like one of the boys immediately as well,straight on the inside,it was surreal how good the lane family treated me,man i dunno what to say............ more on the shawn experience later in a musical sense guys but my first post concerning my stay there was always going to be centred around mitzi and the family and the way i was treated while there.i cant over state enough what incredibly beautiful people they all were and how much i appreciated it,and never will.though i'll try my darndest in a year or 2 next time im over there!
signing off,
a very humble and appreciative
Splatch

p.s. it was a blast reading your description of shawn's room ed' and as of 5 days ago thats exactly how it still looks mate!LOL it was also a blast holding the vigier that you returned to shawn as well bro',im sure i can thank you on many behalfs for your kindness there.oh and shawn is doing it plenty of justice too from what i seen.which was what most of us hear on his records btw,only better............

Memphis Memiors Part 1

"Edward J. Hennessy" wrote: Hey gang, Here is part 1 of my recollections of my recent trip to Memphis. It's about 4400 words...the whole thing will probably top 20,000 words. Let me know what you think and I'll post more if you want. Thanks, Ed ******************************************** Friday, 1/11, late afternoon. I pull into the parking lot for Houston's restaurant, the place that Mick and I had agreed to meet. It's on Poplar Avenue, a major artery for Memphis. The idea was, as far as I understood but not explicitly stated, that we would grab a bite to eat and then, at a later point in time, meet up with Shawn for a few hours. I'm not anticipating that Shawn will be able to (or want to) spend hours having his brain picked by a total stranger. The traffic has been terrible in the city. I'm running several minutes late. Mick has said that he would try to wait out in the parking lot for me...there's a black fellow standing at the front corner of the lot, looking vacantly out into the traffic. Is this Mick? I don't remember him saying that he was black...he didn't sound particularly black on the phone (if I'm allowed to think so politically incorrectly)....the man makes brief eye contact with me as I pull past him. I told Mick what my car looks like -- white '99 Ford Escort -- and what I look like -- 6'1", 170 lb., short hair and goatee -- and this guy pays me no heed. He turns back to study the traffic, as if waiting to cross the street. No, this isn't Mick. I park in a space about a hundred feet from the restaurant. I glance about the parking lot before I get out...no one around, and no one sitting in any idle vehicles. I get out and lock my door, sensing that, as I walk away, I'm forgetting something. Well, I guess I don't need my sunglasses -- the sun will be going down soon -- so I walk back the car and deposit them there. Turning back toward the restaurant, there is movement at the corner of my eye. "Would you happen to be Ed Hennessy?" I hear a familiar Southern drawl . I look up to see a gentleman of possibly late 30's- early 40's, reddish hair with some distinguishing silver, about 5'10". "Yes I am! Are you Mick?" We shake hands, and he immediately directs me toward another part of the parking lot. I feel like I'm grinning madly. Mick explains that the best way to organize the trip to Shawn's is for me to leave my car here, and for him to drive us over. We are to leave right away, as he is waiting for us. As thrilled as I am about this, a part of me is more interested in eating. It's been a good 8 hour drive from Biloxi, Mississippi, and I haven't had much of a lunch. Oh, shut up, stomach, we're going to see SHAWN LANE! We get into Mick's car, a fairly sizable four-doored thing. It's comfortable, but perhaps could use a vacuuming (and I could probably use a shower and a shave, so I ain't talkin'). We leave the lot through a convoluted back route, hoping to avoid some of the traffic congestion. After we exchange the usual pleasantries and amenities, Mick explains that Shawn currently lives with his grandmother, a temporary situation made necessary from the Eye Reckon Records incident. I understand that Shawn had an apartment or room connected with the studio somehow, and was forced to leave when his relationship with Eye Reckon was suspended. It seems that Shawn's grandmother has also had to move within the last few months: she previously lived at a seniors' community, but was evicted when her neighbors discovered that she was boarding her grandson against housing policy. Mick makes some comment about the gossipy nature of old ladies here. He continues by saying that the situation went so far as to being publicized on a local television news program...Shawn's grandmother was interviewed on TV about the unfairness of her predicament, having a grandson that she described as being crippled and unable to work, and having nowhere to go. I let out an uneasy laugh...it's so absurd, the hardships this family has had to endure...one can't help but find it laughable. But I learn that she found a house to rent in a nearby neighborhood, and now resides safely with Shawn and Shawn's daughter, Ashley. Mick's only been there once before, and he doesn't remember the way exactly. He says he's going to try to call the house with his cell phone, and that hopefully Shawn's grandmother will be there. Why, won't Shawn be able to tell us the way? I inquire. Sure, he knows the way, he just hardly ever answers the phone, is the response. No one is answering Mick's call, and I'm realizing that I don't have my CD sleeves on me. I brought all the sleeves from every Shawn Lane-related CD that I own (except for the Hellborg discs in the mondo- annoying digipak cases) with me to Memphis for the express purpose of having Shawn sign them all. I've packed them all safely in an empty DVD package, which at the moment is sitting safely on the front seat of my car. I lament my forgetfulness to Mick, and he says that it's no problem to swing back for them. That won't make us late, will it? No, we're not on any set time schedule, says Mick. We haven't gone far because of the traffic, and it takes no time to return Houston's. We pull back into the lot, and the black man is still there, purposefully circling the lot. Mick says that I should be as discreet as possible returning to my vehicle, as that security guard will make me move if he discovers I'm not a patron (the word SECURITY is now clearly visible across the back of the black man's poncho). Mick parks in front of my car; I feel simultaneously clever and foolish as hell walking nonchalantly to the passenger side of my car, smoothly retrieving the DVD case, and returning to Mick's car, all the while keeping one eye on the guard. He's heading away from me, with his back toward me; he hasn't seen us at all. I'm SO good! Heading back on our way, I study Mick as he talks to me. I admit, this isn't the person I expected. My stereotypical image of a die-hard Shawn Lane fan and web site mavin doesn't involve being settled-down with wife and kids, dressing sensibly in khakis and simple shirt, and possessing a generally nondescript persona. He is, however, without a doubt the same friendly, mannered, and enjoyable conversationalist that I've come to know from numerous phonecalls. My smiles are genuine as he speaks. Apparently Mick has moved out of the Memphis area, and has driven a hour to reach our meeting place. I feel almost guilty making him come all this way, but he downplays his efforts. He has an ulterior motive for coming to town: a sum of money for Shawn, the latter's cut of the latest CD and video sales. Mick asks me if I have a CD player or cassette player in my car; I have cassette only. He asks because he's brought along two tapes to listen to on my way back home: one's a DDT show, the second is some other fusion-type group that actually elicited a positive comment out of Shawn. Mick says that normally when he plays something for Shawn, he mumbles something about it being okay but is ultimately unimpressed. This recording has some horn parts that, according to Mick, made Shawn verbally proclaim an interest: "wow...that's really an original arrangement" or something similar...Mick is clearly, and justifiably, pleased with himself. How often can you musically move someone like Shawn Lane? I've never heard of this group before, and I immediately forget their name. I thank him for this gift and look forward to this entertainment. I'm of course dying to hear this horn arrangement...... So far, Memphis is looking like any other metropolitan community. My trip hasn't taken me anywhere near "downtown", so I'm missing the tall buildings, sweeping vistas, cultural nucleus, etc. that such an area might have. And I have purposefully given Graceland the widest possible berth, so the city is strangely flavorless to me. I've seen Wal-mart, Shoney's, Autoworld, ad nauseaum, everywhere else I've every been in the U.S. Mick says that normally he'd introduce me to a good friend of Shawn's named Tony Sutton, were he not out of town on a honeymoon. Mick claims he didn't even know Tony was engaged, and all of a sudden he's gotten married and up-and-vanished. Apparently Tony was seeing some woman for an extended period of time, and decided somewhat abruptly to tie the knot....although I'm not positive that I'm getting the story straight. Mick mentions that Tony owns a restaurant called "The Cottage", a place that the Time Bandits have played frequently. He and his son Adam, bass player for the Bandits, have been Shawn's main wheels as of late. Mick describes Tony as a very generous, nice guy....I regret not being able to meet him. I ask Mick: So Shawn doesn't mind spending an hour or two with a fan from out of town? He replies: No, Shawn's happy that folks are interested enough in his music to come out and meet him. Besides, he's got nothing else to do. His day doesn't really get started until eleven o'clock, midnight or so. I had heard that Shawn was a night owl...he is indeed. I hope he hasn't eaten yet, 'cause I'm taking a serious interest in food at this point. Our trip to Shawn's place is perhaps not as the crow flies; we arrive sometime after sundown. The house is smack-dab in the middle of a sprawling residential neighborhood, with mostly ranch-style houses packed fairly closely together. The area looks fairly conservative, middle-class....no obsessions with manicured lawns, no huge Confederate flags hanging off of porches. Mick recognizes the house and we pull to the curb. There is a walkway from the front door to the side driveway, set parallel to the house. In front of the walkway is a row of hedges a few feet high. There is a person seated on this walkway; only his head is visible above the bushes. As I get out of the car, I have a clearer view of this person: he is bearded, has long hair, wears a beret and large black sunglasses, and is placidly smoking a cigarette. His face is illuminated from above by a single porchlight. It is the unmistakable visage of the maestro. "This is definitely the place; there's Shawn sitting outside," I comment to Mick. He has gotten out of the car and we approach the house...he's leading, I'm in tow. Mick reaches the mouth of the walkway and greets Shawn. The two speak briefly of this and that, and Mick promptly introduces me. Shawn is seated in a white plastic patio chair, two empty ones flank it. He's clad entirely in black...black shirt buttoned to the top; black vest over that....black pants; black shoes; the beret, turned backwards on his head, is black. He looks warmly up at me over the top of his sunglasses. It doesn't faze me that he's wearing these at night; celebrities are SUPPOSED to do this. I shake his hand, and ask him if I can call him "Shawn". He says, "Yeah, man," bemused by this. Good -- "Mr. Lane" would sound a little stiff. I stand in front of him for a few moments while the three of us talk. Mick explains how I had traveled from Syracuse to Georgia to see some family, then to Biloxi for the same purpose, and finally to Memphis to meet him. Shawn states that he remembers the posts that I have made over the last couple of years on his website, as well as the emails I've sent to him personally. This surprises, and flatters, me. Shawn has a way about him that puts one at ease. One can't help but take an instant liking to him. He seems to feel no pressure from the world, and exerts none on those around him. His speech has a hint of a Southern accent, much less so than I recall from those REH instructional videos. His use of colloquialisms and slang ("man", etc) belie sturdy syntactical structures....he never stumbles in his speech or mispronounces a word. His casual conversation suggests a high-speed intellect idling at low speed.....he expresses himself surely and effortlessly, yet is softspoken and spontaneous. He recalls the offer to loan him a Vigier Excalibur that I sent to his sister, Mitzi. This was a few months ago, and I never received any confirmation to go ahead and ship the thing. Shawn says that he's still very much interested, has been meaning to contact me about that, and he thinks it'll be perfect for the NAMM show. He asks if the fretboard is flat; I confirm that it is. He explains that he prefers the flat radius because it enables him to achieve the lowest possible action, from the nut up to the highest position. He needs the low action, and uses .008 gauge strings, because of his arthritis. He tells me about the time he first discovered Vigier: he was in France, and he had been in touch with the luthiers there. They were claiming to have created a guitar with potential for extremely low action, lower than Shawn believed was possible with standard truss-rod construction. But because Vigiers had no truss-rod, instead using a composite strip along the back of the neck, they were able to lower the action from this (he holds up his forefinger and thumb, showing me a small gap) to THIS (he narrows his fingers to form a REALLY small gap). I agree with him; this guitar is capable of having frighteningly low action, I tell him. Shawn grins at the thought of this. "That's great" he says, his eyes looking mischievous and bright. I say he'll have to play with it a bit to get it where he wants it, because I had overadjusted the tremolo unit to give excessive pull-back on the strings. Mick asks how I got the guitar....I bought it from a person trying to sell it on eBay.....the reserve on the auction wasn't met so I contacted the person separately and sold me the guitar privately. Shawn has been musing about something....he says he believed that Vigier made those guitars expressly for him, and that it may be an instrument that he had owned in the past. I mention that I had contacted Vigier myself about having one custom made, and they were able to quote me a price rather quickly based on the specs. It made me think that they get requests for these more than we might think. Standing in front of Shawn, facing the house, I catch a glimpse of someone who has appeared in the glass front door. It is a diminutive, sweet-faced elderly lady. I presume that it is Shawn's grandmother, so I give her a broad smile and a little wave. She smiles back, and I anticipate she will open the door and come out into the night with us, but she instead disappears from view. Shawn and I begin to talk a bit about New York state...I explain where I'm from, a suburb outside of Syracuse. Shawn seems to have a fair idea of where I'm referring to....he mentions having played a few gigs in the past in that state, especially New York City.He says that Jonas [Hellborg] has an apartment there, some blocks away from the former site of the World Trade Center towers. We all speculate how crazy it must have been in that city when the attacks occurred. I confirm it: my best friend's brother attends an art school in the Bronx, and even he, a few miles away, attested to the uneasiness that pervaded the town. Shawn excuses himself to go inside for a moment. He gets up with some deliberation, and his walk his slow and unsure, as if his lower body in experiencing significant discomfort in such movements. It is upsetting to see someone as gifted as he being stricken so with a physical condition as his. Mick and I have a moment to ourselves. I tell him that I'm having a lot of fun; he assures me that it's no trouble at all me being here. There is a gumwrapper or something stuck in the hedges, and I idly pick it out. Mick pulls out a wad of bills and shuffles them around to straighten them. When Shawn returns from inside, Mick hands him the money and says that it's his cut from the website sales. Mick seems prepared to account for every dollar, but Shawn is not concerned...he gives Mick a gracious thank-you, gives the wad a quick glance over and it disappears into a pocket. I guess I've just witnessed payday for Shawn Lane. I ask Shawn if I may seat myself in the chair off to his right....I pull it up so that I'm not quite facing him, but angled slightly. Shawn talks mostly out into the darkness or up at Mick, making eye contact with me here and there. He asks Mick if he too would like a seat, but Mick declines, stating that he'd had a long drive in and is happy to stand for a spell. After continuing to talk for a few moments, we hear the phone ring inside. Moments later, Shawn's grandmother comes out, cordless phone in hand, telling Shawn that Adam is calling for him. Shawn takes the phone there in front us, and makes no attempt to keep the conversation private. I, of course, eavesdrop. C'mon, it's SHAWN LANE we're talking about here. I'm hanging on this guy's every word. The call is quick...someone named Steve is mentioned, something about practice later that evening.....Adam will evidently be stopping by the house shortly. Shawn hangs up, but keeps the phone in hand. Not long after this, the phone rings again. Shawn makes no attempt to pick it up. After a few rings, it stops...Shawn's grandmother again opens the front door, telling Shawn that Jonas is on the line. Shawn replies that he's got it, and puts the phone to his ear. "Hello? Hello Jonas?" For some reason, the line has gone dead. Shawn mutters something like "Oh well, he'll call back..." and hangs up. But now that the subject of Jonas is on his mind, he begins to talk about him. I ask, "Jonas is from Sweden, right?" Shawn affirms this, and tells me what a reckless driver Jonas can be sometimes. The posted speed limits are notably higher in many parts of Europe than in the US, and during a serious of gigs Shawn played with Jonas, he had driven along the famous German highway with no posted speed limit at such an incredible rate that the crossed the continent in an unthinkably short amount of time. Shawn then qualifies his description of Jonas' driving as fast, but very competent. During their stay in China, Shawn was amazed at how well Jonas was able to navigate through streets clogged with pedestrians, horsecarts, cyclists and other motorized vehicles. Shawn had even witnessed a car going the wrong way down a major highway yet causing no problems whatever with the traffic....everyone simply drove efficiently around the ill-guided car, all at standard highway speeds. The phone rings and again it is answered inside the house. Geez, who was on phone duty when Mick and I were trying to call? Shawn's grandmother pokes her head out: "Shawn, it's Barry on the phone." The night is turning into a "who's who" of Shawn's musical accomplices! Shawn and Barry take a moment to catch up, I think I understand that Barry will be showing up at tomorrow's gig....Barry must have asked about the set list because Shawn has closed his eyes, leaned forward slightly and has put one hand to his head, deep in thought. Slowly, song titles come rolling out of him....all classic rock tunes: some Stones, Elton John, Police, etc. 20 or 30 titles in all...Shawn hasn't written them down, and apparently doesn't need to. It just took him a moment to access the information cached deep inside his gray matter. I wonder if Barry plans on sitting in for a few tunes....I also wonder if Barry knows these tunes enough to be able to play them less than 24 hours after hearing the set list. I suppose this sort of thing is commonplace for musicians, but not being one myself, I'm kind of amazed at the possibility. After a few minutes, the conversation ends and once again the phone hangs by Shawn's side. Nobody says anything for a moment, and the only sound in the night is a dog barking its head off about 5-6 houses down. I break the silence by commenting that I think that the neighborhood seems relaxed and peaceful, a nice place to live. Shawn agrees, and says that the people are generally friendly but that his lifestyle is runs counter to the traditional blue-collar ethic. He comes and goes at all hours of the night, and dresses in a manner more suited to the East Coast...he idly wonders how they must perceive him. I say that, despite the obvious culture clash, it is a quiet neighborhood...except for the odd dog that SIMPLY WILL NOT STOP BARKING! (What is it with that friggin' dog? It's got to take a BREATH at some point, right?) Shawn says that the noisier, rougher folk are down several blocks off that way (gestures off in some direction). After a while Shawn's grandmother pokes her head out of the door and calls to Shawn, in an ever-so-slightly parental tone, imploring Shawn to have us all come inside the house. Yeah, it is getting nippy. Good idea. Shawn and I get up, and I step aside to let Mick and Shawn enter before me. We walk in, out of the night, into the living room of Shawn's grandmother's house. The room is well lit and warm...it feels good, I think dew was beginning to condense on me out there. Fog momentarily forms on my glasses from the temperature change. How can I describe my surroundings? Had I not known who lived in this house, and you told me that it was an 80 year old woman, I'd believe you. The room is very well kept, and has a certain space-out-of-time feel to it: the furniture, decorations, knicknacks, etc. are from a wide spread of eras and styles -- clearly the accumulation of items from someone who's lived across several decades. I wonder if these folks' previous living quarters were somewhat bigger than these, as the room almost seems overfilled with stimuli. It's without a doubt comfortable, and at Shawn's grandmother's behest I make myself at home. There is a couch up against the right wall, and I walk around the coffee table in front of it to have a seat. Shawn disappears down a hallway to the left; Mick joins me on the couch; Shawn's grandmother sits in a chair just before the couch, next to the front door. Mick gives me an informal sort of introduction to her, briefly explaining who I am and why I'm here. She's quite amicable and hospitable, and immediately begins to talk about Shawn. Her manner is praiseful and proud, the way a parent talks about an exceptional child. In an easy-going voice with plenty of Southern sweetness, she tells me about the house and how she came to live in it. She too is remarkably candid, and has an honesty and simplicity that is quite disarming. We talk for a few moments with Mick, about the various people and events that have shaped Shawn's professional career in the last few years. Shawn's grandmother needs to leave the room, and I realize that I didn't catch her name. Mental note to self: ask Mick what her name is and how I should address her. I also notice that I am definitely hungry at this point in time. Maybe the ol' Hennessy charm can weasel me up a snack. Mick gets up and moves to the area between the couch and chair, and gestures toward small magazine holder that is overflowing with periodicals. He tells me that this is the collection of articles of various magazines showcasing Shawn that we had discussed in the past. Mick had wanted to post these on shawnlane.com for some time now, but never could commit the time to do it. I don't blame him...a pile like that would daunt anyone! He gets down on his haunches and starts to sift through them...I recognize quite a few of the magazines, most are Guitar Player, Guitar World, a few different British guitar 'zines, the odd pamphlet or clinic leaflet. Many, I'm happy to note, I've been able to hunt down in one form or another and post on the web myself. Mick pulls out one particular issue, "Shake Rattle and Roll", a music magazine that Mick says is published in (and is about) Memphis. Shawn is depicted on the cover playing a strat-style guitar and wearing a striped outfit. I tell Mick that I actually own a copy of that issue and have been meaning to add it to my website when I find the time. Mick is mildly surprised; "Where did you manage to find that?" he asks. "EBay," is my reply. He seems satisfied with that. 2001 Edward Hennessy For entertainment purposes only.

Memphis Memoirs, part 2

Mick gets up and begins to move about the room. I notice that across the room from the couch is a small entertainment center, and that on the floor to the right of it, at the edge of the hallway, is a large box of vinyl records. I get up and walk around the edge of the coffee table to get a better look. I can tell right away that the albums are old, and probably rather valuable. Many are wrapped in plastic sleeves...the first couple in the box are "Great Pianists of the 20's" or something like this, and a Simon Barrere record. I flip gingerly through the box, not recognizing many of the works or performers...it seems Shawn has a penchant for collecting obscure classical and jazz recordings. Shawn's grandmother has reentered the room and we all return to our seats. She asks me if I know of Shawn's sister Lisa, the namesake of "Epilogue for Lisa"...she takes a framed picture from a nearby stand, looks at it briefly, and hands it to me. It's about 8"x10", black and white. An attractive young woman is standing sideways to the camera, but twisted around in a pose giving the sense of activity or motion. The composition and style of hair and dress remind me of fashion photography of the mid-eighties...in fact my first impression is that I'm looking at an ad from a magazine. Shawn's grandmother tells me how she died (a car accident, if I'm hearing her right) and how old she was at the time...I'm not sure what to say....a life lost, so young and vivacious...at least the family seems positive and comfortable with it. She tells me that Shawn composed "Epilogue" in Lisa's memory many years ago. I agree that it's a moving piece and a worthy eulogy. Shawn has returned to the living room and sits next to Mick on the couch, joining the conversation for a moment. He suddenly gets up again, as if remembering to do something, when the phone rings. Shawn stands there, motionless, gripping the phone in his hand, making no attempt to answer it. He closes his eyes as a look of pained ambivalence crosses his face. The phone continues to ring..... "Auugghhh!!!" Shawn raises his voice, clearly agitated. "This is why I hate taking calls! Once I start talking I can never get off the phone again!" I'm admittedly taken aback by Shawn's vehemence. With a sigh and an annoyed countenance, Shawn clicks the phone on and puts it to his ear. "Hello?" It's Jonas calling back. Shawn's demeanor returns to normal and he carries on with Jonas for awhile. Shawn turns around and heads down the hallway. This time everyone gets up and follows him. Hey, I'm a sucker for peer pressure; I join them. Everyone heads down the hall and enters into the very first room on the left. By the time I get there, I can see that Shawn is inside, sitting on a bed, still talking on the phone, and everyone has crowded into the room around him. Not sure whatˆ¢s going on, I sheepishly loiter at the doorway; I donˆ¢t want to intrude on what is clearly Shawnˆ¢s private bedroom. Mick sees my hesitation and gestures me in, saying something along the lines of, ˆ£Donˆ¢t worry, you can come on in.ˆ§ I enter the room and look about... This is what I see: There is a large bed in the center of the room that appears to be pushed up against the rear wall, and it takes up a large amount of floor space. The doorway I entered through is situated at the right-most edge of the front wall (if I turned around and looked at it), and on the left-hand wall, very near the doorway, is a closet door, closed. Further along this wall is a small entertainment center, turned to face the bed and seems only inches away from it. I say small because the unit the TV is on is fairly small, but the ˆétube itself is gargantuan. Itˆ¢s almost comical, seeing this enormous television set just inches away from the bed... it must be Shawnˆ¢s idea of a ˆ£home IMAXˆ§ theater. Tucked into the corner at the far end of the TV is a nightstand with a small lamp on it ˆ� lit ˆ� casting harsh shadows over the clutter of items on it: from my view, mostly prescription vials, bottles, and the usual nightstand bric-a-brac. This takes up the left wall. The remaining walls are covered, almost floor-to-ceiling, with video tapes, cassette tapes, CDs, or books. Itˆ¢s quite astonishing, almost claustrophobic. The right wall is covered almost entirely by a bookcase, or a series of bookcases, that house hundreds of video tapes. I notice that theyˆ¢re almost all recorded-over blanks: they all have titles hand-written in black magic-marker on white adhesive labels, on the spines. There is another low shelf-like piece of furniture in the corner, and I see an Eastern-looking patterned linen hanging up on the wall above it. Up against the front wall is an eclectic assortment of drawers and cases, above which are several CD racks (screwed into the wall) overflowing with discs ˆ� there is a chest-high stack of ˆéem by the door as well ˆ� and a few cassette-tape racks for good measure. These as least have some empty slots in them. I notice a few books on these pieces of furniture, and prominently displayed is Shawnˆ¢s ˆ£Power Licks and Solosˆ§ instructional tome. Itˆ¢s pretty beat-up, much more so than my copy... what, has Shawn been practicing out of this thing lately? I notice a few vinyl records tucked up on top of the video tape rack, way up by the ceiling... there are many photos, some framed, some not, set up in these cases... I recognize some of Shawnˆ¢s family in these pictures... Tacked up on the shelving, near Shawnˆ¢s bed, is a small reproduction of an Hieronymous Bosch painting (the third panel of the ˆ£Garden of Earthly Delightsˆ§, one of his crazier ones... a large, disembodied human torso, propped up horizontally with smaller people climbing in and out of it on ladders and such). Above his bed, against the wall behind it, is a shorter shelving unit that runs most of the length of the wall. This too is packed with video tapes. But most astonishing is the stack of tapes perched precariously on top of the television. Weˆ¢re talking about two stacks of VHS tapes, piled one on top of another, loosely, at least three feet high, almost touching the ceiling. I can almost see the stacks sway as we breathe in the room. For the rest of the time Iˆ¢m in this room Iˆ¢ll have one eye on those tapes, just waiting for them to crash over. Down on the floor, propped up against the TV console, is a DVD player, with a smattering of DVD cases leaning up against it. I see what appears to be the top of a window frame set into the wall behind the shelving above the bed. It seems to have Venetian blinds over them, closed. It occurs to me that for all the shelves, cases, racks and such on that wall, almost no natural light must be able to enter the room. I recognize quite a few of the VHS tape titles¬…just about the entire Tarkovsky catalogue is here...ˆ§Nostalghiaˆ§ jumps out at me...I have that one on DVD and I STILL havenˆ¢t been able to force myself through it... Also I notice ˆ£City of the Lost Childrenˆ§ ˆ� itˆ¢s that French bizarre-Terry Gilliamesque flick that Iˆ¢ve been meaning to see (mental note -- ask Shawn how that was)... quite a bit of foreign and ˆ£art houseˆ§ stuff here. Not one ˆ£Ernestˆ§ movie in sight. Thereˆ¢s a small chair in the front corner, but Mick has snagged it. Shawnˆ¢s grandmother notices me eyeing the seat and gestures for me to sit on the bed. ˆ£You can go ahead and sit on the bed. Most of Shawnˆ¢s company ends up having to sit there.ˆ§ She moves around to the side of the bed and idly picks up a few of the photos Shawn has propped up on the shelves. Shawn has ended his phone conversation and is breaking the latest news to Mick... I try to listen in but Shawnˆ¢s grandmother is telling me about the photos sheˆ¢s finding: ˆ£Hereˆ¢s a good picture of Shawn and Ashley, his daughter. You can definitely tell theyˆ¢re father and daughter... just look at the resemblance.ˆ§ She hands me a shot with a cleanly shaven Shawn next to a maybe-8-or-9-yr-old girl, both in profile. I have to chuckle at how alike they are, mostly because they have the exact same expression on their faces. Shawnˆ¢s grandmother puts that one back and shows me some of the others...here is Shawn and one of his sisters...here is a shot of Shawn on stage that Iˆ¢ve never seen before...Shawn and his father. She speaks briefly about the two of them, what he used to do for a living, etc. She gets a quiet, far-away quality to her voice...her body is in front of me, but her mind isnˆ¢t. Where are you, maˆ¢am? She returns from her reverie. Mick breaks in about Jonasˆ¢ call. The NAMM show is more or less set, and Sean Rickman is expected to be there. I can only shake my head at that prospect. I pray someone can tape that. Mick and Shawnˆ¢s grandmother exchange a few words, and she leaves the room. A hush comes over the room. I get up and take a closer look at Shawnˆ¢s CD collection. There is way less classical stuff than I was expecting, but way more Indian stuff than I even knew existed. Iˆ¢m seeing 16-syllable names that Iˆ¢ve never heard of...I do recognize most of the fusion titles...many discs I had heard of and always meant to check out, but never got around to doing so. I silently wish I had brought some paper that I could be writing all these artists down on. I just KNOW Iˆ¢m going to forget everything Iˆ¢m seeing. He has a surprising amount of cassette tapes, and the title that immediately catches my eye is ˆ£Powers of Tenˆ§. I pull it out of its slot and look at it up close. I immediately notice that the cover is slightly different from the CD release¬…there is more to the picture down below the point where the arms are cut off. Not MUCH picture, mind you¬…just more arm and another one of those globe-things, but it is still a kind of a thrill, like seeing your favorite movie in its theatrical ratio for the first time, instead of pan-and-scan. How dare they cut off all of that extra image??!! I bring this up to Shawn and he mentions that he still has the original art proofs for the album in his garage. He suggests to Mick that we should go out there and look for it¬…for some reason Shawnˆ¢s interest in it as been re-piqued and he seems eager to pull it out of mothballs once again.
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Hope you enjoy!
Ed Hennessy
2002