Week 69: Guest Post by Todd Cobra, Rock Chronicles 1

My friend, Todd Cobra, excellent songwriter, guitarist and rocker from bands like the Spinns and the Gondoliers is going to guest post for me for a few weeks with his Rock Chronicles... Chronicles... Chronicles...

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Rock Chronicle 1: Larry Valiant

It was our first tour. We had the van and we had the first version of a four-piece rock combo. We really only needed three to do our brand of 60s garage music, but no one, ourselves included apparently, could resist the outgoing charm, good looks, and wild-eyed curiosity that we would later refer to as: Larry Valiant.

Larry Valiant was a maniac stage presence. The first time I ever played with him on stage, in a drums/two guitar version of the band, he was so excited he jumped off the stage during the first song, jumping on and knocking over tables, attacking the audience before it was even time for his solo. It was great! I felt like I had minions, going forth and doing my evil bidding. Also, Larry was what a 50s rocker might call, "a real bird dog". He had only been in town a few months when female friends of mine began telling me stories of Larry’s obsessive pursuing of them at bars and then at their places of work. A newcomer in town behaving this way might normally be cause for concern, but Larry would never cross the line of bad taste in these matters. He was simply an obsessive character. When he found something he liked, he pursued it tirelessly. Some found his outgoing behavior distressing. I found Larry wildly entertaining and not harmful. He would often yield hilarious, unforgettable quotes. When we determined that we would indeed be doing our first tour together he quipped, "Maybe you’ll see my cock!"

Early in this first tour it occurred to me; all my friends that have done this before me are so much cooler than I realized! Like pirates at sea, there is a pervading freedom in looting ones way across the country that exists seemingly, for you alone. This total freedom, over long stretches in between shows, produces a diversionary brand of free-association babble. We told Larry a story involving the now legendary Japanese band, Guitar Wolf:

A close friend, and rock star in her own right, was drinking and having a wonderful time with Guitar Wolf just before they were to hit the stage. Guitar Wolf was very gracious and pleasant when not rocking. Later that night however, when they started playing, was a different story. Our friend approached the stage. She was sipping a cocktail and offhandedly dancing to Guitar Wolf’s Ramones-like attack when Guitar Wolf’s bass player shouted at her with thick Japanese accent, "Get me a Heineken bitch!" Needless to say, she was shocked. This transformation from cordial civilian to unapologetic rocker was made even funnier to us by what happened next; she got him the beer! We were determined, upon telling Larry the Guitar Wolf story, that one of us would attempt the same demand on an unsuspecting, female audience member at one of our shows.

After a few days in New Orleans we were shattered. I drove us all the way to Houston while Larry Valiant and our bass player slept in the back. Larry’s head rested in our male bass players lap in the most shameful way: face down. We found the bar and went in to find our contacts. It turned out that our friend/contact, who was cute, had an even better looking, Latino roommate that was with her. Larry, recently awakened, started on her with his typically overbearing moves. He was doing pretty well. She was playing it cool though, and was across the bar when he said it: "Get me a Heineken bitch!" In classic, record player needle scratching, bar silencing style, all eyes went to Larry Valiant and then to our contact’s hot Latino friend. She didn’t need any help from the burly Texas bar patrons. She walked across the barroom floor and slapped the hell out of the face of Larry Valiant. Even though Larry was humiliated and immediately laughed at by an entire bar full of strangers, he later yielded another hilarious Valiant quote. Asked how it felt to receive that fiery Latino slap in the face he said, "It kinda gave me a chubby!" Most amazing to me is that, after all of this, he still slept with her that night! A testament to the idea that people are attracted to that which repels them and testament to Larry Valiant charm I suppose.

This hilarity not withstanding, Larry Valiant never really recovered from the chemical punishment of New Orleans. We fired him from the band when we got home for his own good. He then moved back to his original west-coast home. We kept in touch though. The next time the band was in Houston I was changing clothes in the van when whom to my surprise should pop in but Larry’s old flame. We took some pictures on my disposable camera to send Larry and make him jealous. Luckily she put us up for the night despite his absence.