Dave Brideau 

Daves World

 

I remember being attracted to music at a very early age. My father always had instruments in the house. He wasn’t necessarily a very serious or accomplished musician. Although, I seem to remember him mentioning something about having a band or a group of friends he jammed with before he met my mother. He had a classical guitar, a violin and a clarinet. He would occasionally play them for his own entertainment. He showed me how to play the spoons. So, I would sometimes accompany him for fun. My musical upbringing was very eclectic. My father regularly liked to play Andres Segovia, flamingo style, passages on his guitar. And he liked to listen to Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. I think it must have been one of the few records albums in the house, aside from an Englebert Humperdinck record my mother would listen to.

 

An early childhood memory was an obsession with an air organ at a neighboring sitters house. A brown plastic air-driven organ with piano keys and small round accordian-like chord buttons on the side. In fact, it sounded like an accordian. I was fascinated with the emotional feelings I felt, created by the various cords made with those round buttons. I would search for different combinations of chords that moved me the most, emotionally.

    

Another obsession, in terms of music was listening to 60’s Top 40 radio on a little transistor radio hanging from the handle bars of my stingray bicycle, complete with ape-hanger handlebars, banana seat and sissy bar. I didn’t have an elder sibling to turn me on to the latest music of the time. But, I had DJ Dale Dorman on Boston WRKO Radio. It was the infancy of Rock & Roll and Motown. The Beach Boys, Ike And Tina Turner, The Supremes, Smokey Robinson, Stevie Wonder, Elvis Presley, The Beatles, Stones, …

 

The first instrument I took to, was the drums, actually cardboard boxes. I would gather several different size large boxes for varied pitch and a couple of sticks, usually from a nearby lilac bush or something, to beat them with. I can only imagine now, what the neighbors thought of this naive little kid making all that noise in the backyard.

 

Song-writing was a short-lived experience, in my early grammar school days and would not re-surface until after high school. I remember walking the school halls thinking of short random lyrics with melodies. None of which ever blossomed into a full song. 

 

In fourth grade, I really was bit by the music bug. Every year, the fifth-graders would have a talent contest. A group of students took the stage, with a drum kit and guitars, and lip-synced to the song “Sugar, Sugar” by the Archies, a fictional cartoon band from the animated show “The Archies”. I thought that was cool, I was so determined to do the same, the next year I was up on that stage, behind a borrowed set of drums, faking it with my own band, lip-syncing and pretending to play to “Spirit in the Sky” by Norman Greenbaum. My first gig. I was a rockstar for at least a day or two.

 

That summer, I wanted to start a band. Enter another all-to-familiar plastic air organ, cardboard boxes and my friend with a Silvertone guitar, with the built-in amp in the guitar case, purchased at a local department store. We were jamming under my friends carport and the next door neighbor pops his head over the fence and says, “Hey, I have an old drum set that I’m looking to sell. If your interested, you can have it for $40”. That night, I begged my father for the money. I know he really didn’t have it at the time. Money was tight. But, a few days later, it was mine. Somehow he managed it. And, I was soon drumming on an actual drum kit. 

 

My drum education began later that year, with Junior High School Band. I never received official drum lessons. Somehow, I self-taught myself to read percussion and started gathering my chops playing to 45 rpm records in the basement, everyday after school. The first records I recall learning to play too were “American Pie” by Don McLean and “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon. Collecting 45 rpm records was popular back then. My friends and I would frequent the record department, at the local department store, check the weekly Top 40 singles chart, and search out the latest hit songs. Then I found the Columbia Record Club. 12” vinyl records quickly became my vehicle to play to. 

 

I eventually found other musician friends to jam with. We actually started a band called Corpus Christie named from the city in Texas. We thought the name sounded cool, like “Black Sabbath”.

 

In high school, I was met with a choice, high school band or football. I managed to do both in my freshman year. But as a sophomore, because of split schedules, it could only be one or the other. I was not much of a jock anyway. And, I was making headway as a self-taught drummer. So, I chose band…marching band in the fall, followed by concert band and jazz ensemble after the football season.

 

I eventually found an interest in my fathers guitar. Which lead to me teaching myself a couple of basic cords and scales…upside down, by-the-way. As a lefty, I felt most comfortable holding the guitar left-handed, basically upside-down. It became an irreversible habit. But, I didn’t care. I was really a drummer. I did briefly take ownership of an electric guitar. It was a Gibson SG copy made by Penco, a Japanese guitar manufacturer that was popular producing knock-off guitars. With a guitar of my own, I contemplated stringing it for left-handed playing. On bad advise from my father, he suggested I should just keep doing what I was doing. He summized, if I wanted to try a friends guitar, I would already be familiar with conventional right-hand stringing, where the Low E-string is at the top and the high E-string is at the bottom. His logic would later haunt me as a bass player. When it comes to playing funk music on the bass, the low E-string naturally should be the top-most string so you can percussively hammer the low end with your thumb and have your other fingers naturally positioned to pluck or “pull-off” higher registered notes in alternating fashion. I think I traded that guitar for a Univox tape echo. I often wonder what happened to it.

 

My junior year in high school brought several life altering transformations. Live rock concerts and progressive rock came into my life. One of my first concerts I went to, was with the band Yes, at the Boston Garden. And thanks to the Columbia Record Club, I began finding progressive rock records from bands like Yes, Kansas, ELP, Genesis, Starcastle, and Rush. I also went through a jazz fusion phase with Stanley Clark, Return To Forever, Billy Cobham and the likes. My drumming chops improved tremendously. 

 

Later that school year, a fellow drummer and I were looking to put together a band with two drummers, mimicking the Doobie Brothers, Grateful Dead and the Allman Brothers, to name a few. We had a guitarist and an amazing saxophonist. But, for some reason, bass players, at the time, were a rare find in my school. I had been somewhat comfortable playing my fathers guitar. And, the school had a bass and amp I frequently messed around with. The first song I learned to play on bass was “Carry On Wayward Son” by Kansas. An ambitious task I placed on myself. So began my journey with playing bass…up-side down. We actually played a few gigs that year under the name Illusion using the school’s bass and amp. I don’t remember how I managed it. But, the school’s music director actually let me borrow the bass and amp, over the summer, on a promise to return it before the next school year began. 

 

As luck would have it. I managed to blow the speaker in that borrowed amp. As promised, I returned the bass and amp, with the blown speaker, and my tail between my legs. The director was so cool. Because I didn’t have the money to replace the speaker, we agreed that Illusion would play the first dance of the year, for free, to pay for a new speaker. 

 

Now I had to look for a rig of my own. Certainly, borrowing the bass amp again would be out of the question. Although, I was able to borrow the bass guitar for most of that senior year. On my walk home from school, I would occasionally take the scenic route, passing by Progress Music, the local music store, owned by Johnny Progress. He sold new and used gear. I would pop in weekly, almost daily, and gawk at all of the amps and guitars, dreaming of the day I might own one. The day finally came. I had been eye-balling a used 100 watt Ampeg V-4B bass amp with a huge speaker cabinet for weeks. Johnny always hyped up how great it sounded. I’m pretty sure he was very motivated to sell it. It was the biggest rig in the place. I bought it. We always referred to it as the refrigerator.

 

High school graduation came. I had the honor of being the drummer for the commencements class song, “Teach Your Children”. It was actually the last formal gig I recall performing on the drum kit. Academics were never a strong suit of mine. I enjoyed the social aspects of school and would do it all over again. But, I absolutely hated doing homework and seldom complied. I just didn’t apply myself. Somehow, I managed to earn my high school diploma, on time, I might add. My parents never pushed me to pursue of a college education. Neither had the privilege of finishing high school. Both were forced to work at an early age. The idea of a college degree would be cost prohibitive. I did have ambitions of attending the Berklee College of Music in Boston. But the naive kid in me made the stupid decision to take a leap year to figure it out. What happened? I got a job, an apartment, bills, a girl friend and before I knew it, life had swallowed me whole. 

 

I was now playing bass with the Springfield Mills Band, a local cover band with gigs on the horizon as a bass guitarist. So, the pressure was on to find a bass guitar of my own. Naturally, I would go to Progress Music, to acquire my first bass guitar. It was a brand new Rickenbacker 4001 stereo bass, mostly made famous by Chris Squire, only in Fire Glo red. His sound and playing made such an impression on me, I had to have one. It had to be special-ordered because left-handed basses, at the time, especially a Rick, were not a common off the shelf item to find. I made the down payment, placed the order, and when it finally arrived, I found myself short of cash. It was coincidently within days of my birthday. As a birthday gift, my bandmates bailed me out and lent me the money to pickup the guitar. Needless to say, I didn’t see my share of gig money for a while. Eventually, the band ran its course and after a few years would later resurface under a different name. 

 

Jamming can be the life blood of a musician when you’re not in a band. It offers a way to experiment, learn, share and loosely express yourself in an ensemble setting. And, more importantly, meet new people. I did it often. It could be magical at times. As was my experience with the chance meeting of a local guitarist, through a jam session orchestrated by a former employer, who happened to be a drummer. The chemistry for Mike and I was instant from the very beginning. 

 

We eventually wrote a lot of original music. The music was very progressive, full of odd time signatures. It took us so long to find a competent drummer to create a band. We didn’t have recorded demos. So, the auditions were basically trial by fire, having to learn the songs on the spot. Many times during an audition, if the drummer was struggling with a particular time signature, Mike would ask the candidate if they wouldn’t mind if I just quickly jumped on the kit and play the intended riff, to break it down for them. I no longer owned a kit, but I still had decent chops. 

 

Looking back, it was shameful and funny at the same time. We’d ask the candidate, good or bad, if they would be willing to leave their kit and come back for another session, usually the next day. After they would leave, I would jump on their kit. Mike and I would jam and continue to work out the drum parts and new music for a couple of additional hours. It became our goal to find a drummer that met or exceeded my skills as a drummer, to complete a power trio with a frontman. 

 

We eventually found our drummer, and an amazing singer/frontman. It wasn’t long before we booked time at a professional studio in Needham Massachusetts to experience our first ever recording session as Infinity. We were so rehearsed. We originally budgeted for an eight hour package deal, with the intent to walk away with two finished songs. We prepared and tracked five songs, live, mostly all one-takes and ended up going back for an additional four hour mixing session. We walked away with a four song demo. One of the songs actually got airplay on a popular regional radio station WGIR Rock101. Unfortunately the band gained limited notoriety or momentum outside of the local scene. Mike later got busted for drugs and was incarcerated for nine months. Without a guitar player and co-writer, the band disbanded and I was now looking for another gig. 

 

Determined to search outside of the local scene, I decided to audition for Boston based bands within the greater Boston area that wrote their own music. I was going to make a play for the big time. I searched the want ads in the Boston Pheonix, an extremely popular Boston based rag, at the time, that catered to the Boston music scene. I found an established band located in Boston’s Back Bay, a bit of a haul from my NH residence. I was excited. The audition went very well. I liked the music, the band and it’s crew. A couple of days later, they called me to offer me the gig. I had to turn it down, because the engine in my ’72 Chevy Vega had just seized the day before. 

 

Eventually, with reliable transportation and renewed ambition, I again employed the Boston Pheonix in search of another opportunity. I arrived at a secluded timber-framed residence, and home of a recording studio called Winterwood Recorders. It was owned by this prolific songwriter who was in the midst of recording an album, with a talented female singer, and was putting a band together to perform and complete the album. I was to be the missing piece. The audition went well, and I was offered the gig. You can only imagine my surprise when I later found out that Tom was actually a Psychotherapist. I left feeling like a psychiatric evaluation may have been a part of the audition. Unfortunately the album was pushed aside when the featured female artist left the project. The band continued with several personnel and name changes over the course, with Tom and I as the constant. Recording and rehearsing, we managed to perform a few gigs in Boston, to include the famed Channel Nightclub under the name of Tom Haley and Rush Hour. And then, in one single unplanned conversation, the band was abruptly terminated due to creative differences.

 

It wasn’t long before a few ex-bandmates from the Springfield Mills band resurfaced to be re-united as The Notables. The bands setlist was very diverse. Predominately a rock band, we also dabbled with country music. At the time, nobody in the area was playing country. Locally, it was somewhat frowned on and poked fun at. But country and new country music, in general, was on the rise and gaining popularity, mostly with the ladies, because the genre lent itself to line dancing. It was fun to see how the head-banger jocks in the crowd would unconsciously start to bounce to the groove of the occasional country offerings. And, it didn’t hurt that the ladies would instantly flock to the dance floor.

 

One night, we were at a gig. One of the guys was walking into the club and over heard a couple standing in the entrance, looking at an event poster. The girl says, “No tables? That’s crazy! I don’t want to go in there and stand all night”.

 

The Notables disbanded, and it was only a matter of time before Mike and I got back to the business of making music, and jamming with local drummer friends whenever the opportunity presented itself. Armed with a Tascam 4 track cassette deck, and a handful of rack effects, Mike and I resumed writing music, Beatles style, bouncing tracks, back and forth.

 

Years earlier, Mike had been involved in an accident, suffering physical injury resulting in a substantial injury settlement. In an effort to expand our sonic palette, Mike started purchasing used keyboard equipment and slowly started putting together the makings of a serious home studio in his apartment. With a 16 track tape deck, 24 channel console, keyboards, midi sequencer, drum machine and a couple of rack effects, we went on a tear. We started sequencing drums and keyboards and just simply abandoned the idea of introducing other musicians. We even toyed with the idea of performing live as a two-piece unit. With our new electronic friends in a rented rehearsal-studio space, we started rehearsing the tunes in a live setting. The thrill of playing a newly recorded tune for the first time, live, was intoxicating to us.

 

My biggest regret is we never fully learned the business. We naively thought the music would carry us to the next step. It didn’t. When Mike fell on hard times, he was forced to sell off the equipment. And life pulled us apart. As for me, a twenty year hiatus from music began with the purchase of a home, and all that goes with that, a family with three kids, and a new career move into the fire service as a Firefighter/EMT, my adventures in rock and roll was temporarily placed on hold. Life had taken another bite.

 

One day, out-of-the-blue, I came home from a shift at the firehouse to find a hand written message on my fax/answering machine. It was from a former bandmate. It said, “Hi Dave, How have you been? Bob and I have a project you might be interested in. Call me, Russ.” I hadn’t spoke or seen either in so many years. So naturally, I was compelled to respond. The former bandmates were inviting me to a weekly jam session held every Friday night at Bob’s house. He explained, Bob had a set of drums, amplifiers, keyboards and PA system, set up in his basement, everything needed for a full band. All I would have to do is show up. Russ went on stating anyone was welcomed to come down and play, or listen…none-players as well, to the open mic formatted jam, usually starting around 9pm and sometimes going until 2am. I hadn’t picked up my bass in so long. It was just what I needed.

 

The primary players were always Bob on guitar and vocals, and Russ on keyboards and vocals. There was a revolving group of drummers and various players of different abilities, or not. On any given night, there might be several drummers, or none at all. The same went for bass guitarist. Whoever showed up was welcome to sit in on any instrument on any given song.  And, if you could contribute vocals, all the better. I found myself sitting on the drum kit plenty of times. Bob had three-ring binders with an accumulation of well over two-hundred song lyrics, complete with notated chords to reference. The majority of them were mostly 60’s and 70’s hit songs from all genres.

 

The most interesting thing about this was, other than Bob and Russ, the one constant was an audience. There was always a group of respectful listeners, who would show up to party, listen and have a good time. Occasionally, someone from the audience would grab a tambourine, shaker or cowbell to accompany the random ensemble, if the vibe hit them. Some nights, the jams were really, really good. Some nights, the jams were really, really bad. Attempting to play along to songs you weren’t necessarily familiar with, outside you comfort zone, or ability, in front of an audience, could be very humbling, sometimes disastrous. But, to this day, I’m so very grateful for the experience. It taught me to be extremely comfortable with performing in front of an audience, even when it gets bad. Other than the proverbial “train wreck”, a miss-played note is just a passing moment. Just smile, and move on. No need to draw attention to it. Most will not have noticed…at least the non-musicians anyway. I enjoyed those Friday night jams until another chance meeting.

 

One late afternoon, Mike arrived up at my door. I hadn’t seen Mike in such a long time. He didn’t look good. He had lost a lot of weight and informed me he had sustained of a mild heart attack. He was unemployed, unable to afford his heart medications and living week-to-week at a local rundown motel. I know it had to be very embarrassing for him, but, he was hungry, desperate and ask to borrow some money. “Any amount would help”. I gave him the $50 dollars I had in my pocket. He was most-grateful. I was happy to do it. We caught up for a while. When I suggested we should get together to jam, he said he didn’t have any gear and only owned a cheap no-name guitar somebody had given to him that needed work. Amazingly, I had run into a mutual friend of ours a week prior, who happened to be hosting a weekly open mic night. I mentioned to Mike, we should go. There would be gear and everything required to have a great jam. And it would be fun to play with Randy again. So, that week, we went to Randy’s open mic with a drummer friend of Mikes tagging along.

 

The three of us went up and performed a few songs. Actually we tore it up. We had a blast. Mike and I were in our element as a three-piece power trio. And, turns out, Mike’s drummer friend had great chops. To our astonishment, the club owner approached us later and asked, several times, if we were a band. When we stated “no”, he could not believe it, praising how much he admired our performance and stated we should be a band. He actually asked us if we were hungry, and said the three of us could pick anything off the menu…his treat. The following week, the three of us went back to Randy’s open mic for more fun. Again, the club owner praised we should be a band, and this time, sent over a complimentary platter of appetizers. We continued to attend the open mic often and eventually the three of us did form a band as Max Voltage.

 

Mike and I carried on with Max, playing numerous local gigs, with several personnel changes along the way, until his sudden death, a massive heart attack. At the time,  Mike was playing at the top of his game. It was a major loss as a friend and bandmate. The band fortunately found another guitarist and sustained modest success in the local music scene for a few more years.

 

After Max Voltage basically desolved after an unintentional hiatus, an old friend from the Infinity days called me to see if I would be interested in auditioning for a new artist from Boston, who was assembling a band to perform his own music, with the intent of recording in the immediate future. Chris had already recorded an EP and was hot and heavy to make a name for himself with more songs in the wings. I got the gig. We immediately started rehearsing and performing in the better known clubs in Boston. We recorded a full length album at Wholly Mammoth Sound with owner David Minehan of the Neighborhoods. The album came out great. Soon after, Chris left his full-time job and made the bold move to Nashville to start a career as a professional artist. 

 

In the meantime, I had been participating in occasional gigs with Randy. Randy had moved on from the previous open mic thing when the club stopped having live music and was eventually sold. Randy is a regular patron of a local American Legion Club that offers live entertainment. So naturally Randy started performing at the club, under the name Randozz. Randy is a huge Ozzy fan. Anyway, The Randozz band is basically a vast group of talented musician friends of Randy, Randy being the main guitarist and vocalist. He typically obtains a gig, usually at the Legion, and immediately starts making phone calls to assemble a band for that gig. He usually has a first call list and then fills in the holes with alternates. No hard feeling if someone isn’t available. There’s usually someone interested in playing the gig. There are no rehearsals. He will send out a setlist prior, and you are expected to know your parts, bring your “A” game and have fun. You can’t beat a fun time with old friends, free food and drinks, and cash in the pocket at the end of the night. Randozz is alive and well, and continues to this day. 

 

I’m alway grateful for all the musician friends I have made over the many decades. Many that I still get to play with from time to time. Wally is no exception. I came to meet Wally as one of the many drummers who came to audition with Mike and I some forty years ago. Wally was a sixteen year old kid at the time. Mike and I were in our twenties. As I recall he came in, very animated and excited. We played a few cover songs with him including the Who classic, “We Won’t Get Fooled Again”. To our amazement, when we reached the last bombastic long sustained note, and Wally was hitting a barrage of cymbals and drums in the style of Keith Moon. He suddenly just rose and physically walked right through his drums, sending drums and cymbals flying everywhere. Crazy! I think we laughed for twenty minutes strait.

 

Wally has made a living as a professional drummer ever since. One day he called me to see if I would be interested in doing a side project with him to supplement what he was already doing. He had two other musicians already lined up in mind. The terms of the project would be a very loose, low key thing. No pressure or heavy schedules. Just something to go out and have fun with. So, I agreed. We got together one time. It was ok. But Wally had another card up his sleeve. Enter an old bandmate friend of Wally’s from years past. The three of us got together and the chemistry was extraordinary to say the least. We effortlessly played twenty or so songs like we’d been an active, well rehearsed band. We were pretty much giddy by the end of that first meeting, and agreed that we needed to do this, as long as it remained fun. Thus, the band BNW, the acronym for Brideau-Nichols-Westover was born. The rules have never changed. It has to be fun, no stress, no pressure. It was always intended to be just a side gig. If someone is unable to do something, because of other commitments, we let it go and move on. BNW is a three-piece power trio rock cover band. We pretty much keep a light gig schedule these days, due to residential distance restrictions. But, whenever we get together, it’s alway magical. It’s powerful. It’s loud. “It’s a fuckin’ rock show!” As we like to say.

 

So, through all of this, for the past two decades or so, I have been privately composing and recording my own music, in my home studio Fireman Studios. Actually, early on, a lot my music was composed on a laptop, at the firehouse, when things were quiet, all tasks were completed for the day, and everyone was allowed to chill out for the balance of the twenty-four hour shift. Using virtual instrument software, I’d create midi tracks to play the virtual instruments and I always kept a bass guitar in my locker. I would typically start with maybe a drum beat, synthesizer patch or bass riff, and then flesh out songs using a midi keyboard controller or painstakingly program each note using the touch pad. At one particular firehouse that I was assigned too, It was not uncommon for us, a crew of three, to stay up until 2am in the morning. They would play Playstation, while, I with a pair of headphones, would be composing music, always gambling on the remainder of the shift to be free of calls and hoping to catch at least a few hours of sleep before shift change at 8am.

 

I’m amazed at how many years I’ve enjoyed performing and continue to do so. I’m a little disappointed in myself that it’s taken this long to officially put something out of my own. But, I finally did it with my first solo record “Tactus”, which is available on CD and now streaming everywhere. [self-less plug]