A Day In The Life of A Great American Guitarist (Marc Ford) PART THREE

A Day In the Life of A Great American Guitar Player: PART THREE
Marc Ford In San Francisco
11/05/07

 "Featherweight dreamland
 Hold it all in one hand."
                       --Marc Ford
 

November 3, 2007, proved an interesting day for your inveterate chronicler. I must say it again, San Francisco is one of the most dynamic cities in the country. I'd love to spend more time there if circumstance ever permits. There's no doubt San Fran is a long way from the south. I wrote this initial draft on a yellow note pad thirty thousand feet over Colorado today on my flight back to Atlanta. Now, back in Atlanta, I'll lash this dispatch together in a whirlwind of the last 48 hours while the events remain fresh in everyone's mind.

The origin of the trip was not only Swampland's research of southern influence on California culture and Christine King's 40th birthday party, but to complete Part Three of A Day In the Life of A Great American Guitarist featuring Marc Ford. Ford's evening performance at the Independent in San Francisco was right around the corner from Christine's birthday party location at Club Hide. I intended to stop by and check out Doc Ford on his native west coast.

The day proved relaxing. Allman Brothers Band tour mystic Kirk West, Christine, Pete and I all made necessary preparations for the evening's events. Kirk and I discovered we're both Charles Bukowski fans. When we visited Amoeba Records we both bought a copy of Bukowski's CD Hostage. I must say it was first class fun hanging out with Kirk in California. He's really turned into a force and cornerstone concerning The Allman Brothers Big House Foundation.

Birthday girl Christine asked me to inquire if Marc Ford would like to attend her party with an open invitation from the Yonrico Scott Band after he played his set at the Independent, opening for Jacksonville, Florida's, own MOFRO. I told her I couldn't make a promise, but I'd ask Marc. I asked Pete to make necessary arrangements if Marc decided to attend.

An eclectic collection of friends gathered for Christine's party, and I'd like to say it was good to meet them all. I thank them for their open hospitality. The food in San Francisco is great. I didn't eat one mediocre meal during my 4 night, 5 day visit.

I called Marc Ford at 4 o'clock. He was playing his final gig tonight opening for MOFRO. On Tuesday he flies to Spain for a short tour. I explained the significance of the evening to Marc.

"What's the guitar player situation?" Marc asked.
"Well, they don't have one tonight."
"Really? Well, then it might be my duty to show up. Yeah, I'll go over there with you."
"Kirk is gonna come with me to your show..."
"James Calemine and Kirk West out in California. Man, those are two great cowboy names...what a duo."
"You should work our spaghetti western intro up."
"I will. I'll leave your name at the door."

 When Kirk and I walked into the green room, Marc gave me a hug, and said,
"Damn James, it's good to see you in California."
"Yeah," Kirk grinned, "They usually won't let him past the Mississippi River," and we all laughed.

The Independent was sold out. So, obviously, folks in California love lowdown, swampy southern music. Waves of beautiful and friendly women prowled the grounds. What a town. Marc re-affirmed to me his intention to gather a house band at Compound Studios in the near future. Marc also told me he'd be recording again soon. "I've got loads of songs," he mentioned. Somehow earlier in the day Marc injured his right arm and it was giving him trouble. I could tell he was in some pain...but you would have never known it hearing him play. Marc also informed me Ryan Bingham's mother suffered a stroke on Friday. I hated to hear the news.

The Marc Ford Fuzz Band ripped the joint. Their set ran shorter than the Atlanta and Athens shows since tonight they were the opening band. They played "Smoke Signals", "Just Take The Money", "Greazy Chicken", "Dirty Girl" and several others. They closed the set with a wicked rendition of Hendrix's "Are You Experienced". Ford's band won over the crowd. It's interesting how he captivates an audience...people pay attention...no loud talking, loitering in the lobby, or showing up late. Ford's band continues to sound tighter with each show I see them.

After Marc's set at the Independent, Marc, Kirk, Pete and I loaded up Marc's amp and guitar and drove over to Christine's birthday jam at Club Hide. The Yonrico Scott Band & Ike Stubblefield played about an hour and a half before we arrived. They took a break and we set up Marc's gear.

Upstairs I introduced Marc to the birthday girl--and bless her heart--she was so lost in the significant moment--she failed to utter a sentence to Doc Ford. She just melted. I snapped a photo of those two sitting next to one another. It's the only time I've ever seen her at a loss for words. Christine disappeared into the ceremony crowd while Marc and I hung out. Yonrico and Ike approached Marc about what to play. Marc, unfamiliar with their complex repertory, said in a voice only a real professional can...I mean, it's Clint Eastwood with a guitar...
"Y'all just start up and I'll jump in..."

Rare evenings like this you really understand the genius of Ford's playing. His command in spontaneous jams or another band's established song remains amazing. Once again, I witnessed the hypnotic musical narcotic Marc Ford emits on a room full of music fans. He elevates, not only the musicians he plays with to a high-degree of virtuosity, but even the folks in the audience feel better. The party elevated to another level--which was already great--just by Ford walking in the door.

Unfortunately, the show was not taped. In the first set, Marc remained respectful of the other musicians and laid back a bit by keeping a wide groove, allowing Yonrico to direct the flow. In the second set, Doc Ford stepped up and began to unleash some riffs in these jams which verified why he's one of the finest guitar players around. This was the legendary guitar slinger everyone waited on. He never met any of these people--walked right in, got up onstage after the band's intermission, began playing, and made everyone in the room--band members included--break into one big smile.

The Yonrico Scott Band and Ike Stubblefield are musical giants in their own right--seasoned wizards. Along with prolific Ford, they blazed through thick funk, gritty blues, a Meters song and countless other jams and tunes with a mercurial sound. I don't think anyone in attendance will forget this evening anytime soon. They played past house curfew and afterwards Marc hung out, shook hands and posed for pictures. A real hero...

Marc's talent and down to earth aura made everyone hate to see him leave the evening's parade. He never hesitated to jam with these accomplished musicians and he trusted my ability to streamline everyone's ongoings into one narrative. Seek out his work through his collaborations with The Black Crowes, Ben Harper, Ryan Bingham and his two solo albums It's About Time and Weary And Wired.  Become acquainted with his released work and wait for what's on the horizon...

Marc bid the band, and Kirk farewell. I stepped outside the club with Marc and shook his hand.  His road man, Coy, waited on the other side of the street in the van. Once again, duty calls. "Thanks for coming over," I told him. "Yeah man", Marc grinned, "We always have fun. Good to see ya. Give me a holler."  

I walked back into the club for a grand evening's end. I glanced back over my shoulder and watched Marc Ford walk across the street with his guitar on his back, and disappear into the cool San Francisco night. How's that for a birthday party?

James Calemine

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