In the cavernous, underground backstage area of San Francisco’s Great American Music Hall, a party rages into the wee hours of the morning.
Various revelers crowd the poster-lined hallway clutching bottled Coronas and passing smoldering bowls as a Neil Young tune emanates from a stereo in a room down the hall. Two photographers in one corner talk shop and eye each other’s equipment with equal amounts of envy and competitive contempt. A stout, bearded man dressed in a wide-brimmed red velvet hat and matching cape struts down the checkerboard hall toward the bathroom as a dark, slender woman dances through the crowd, handing out stickers and distributing occasional hugs. Jambase.com chief Andy Gadiel talks with rock historian and Grateful Dead publicist Dennis McNally as the latter leans against a wall with a wide smile plastered across his face, his presence a seemingly tacit approval of the band that torched the stage above a little more than a half hour ago from the city’s psychedelic elders.
Tonight’s concert and the weekend of music at the Great American is a homecoming of sorts for Tea Leaf Green. The band, which calls the city’s Sunset District home, has been on the road for the past several months playing the summer festival circuit and touring the East Coast in an effort to expand its growing fanbase. Rumors abound that Dave Matthews’s ATO Records is interested in signing the band, speculation that seems at least plausible as they recently were invited to man the sidestage at the DMB’s three-night run at The Gorge outside Seattle, Washington in mid-August. With a loyal following growing bigger by the day and talk of record deals on the horizon, it appears the quartet is poised to make the jump from successful regional band to national touring act. Nowhere was this leap more apparent than the group’s mid-afternoon set at Bonnaroo 2005 played to an estimated crowd of 10,000 people, a memory captured in the above picture by Bay Area photographer Josh Miller.
“That moment in time was triumphant for us, because we’ve been working hard at this for a long time now,” says guitarist Josh Clark as we settle into our chairs on the back patio of The Golden Cane in San Francisco’s Haight Ashbury. “We’ve been touring heavily now for three years and been together as a band for eight years, plugging away at it, wondering why we were putting in this hard work and nothing was seemingly happening. So that moment was a very validating experience for us. It validated why we worked so hard and put so much effort into it. That was our first glimpse at what the dream could look like and proved that the good old American values of perseverance and hard work really did matter and amount to something. That’s what that meant to me at least. It was amazing and something I’ll never forget for the rest of my life.”
That sounds pretty amazing.
It was. We’d never played in front of that many people before. The adrenaline rush when we walked onstage was incredible. Our set was in the middle of the afternoon, and I woke up, ate a burrito and then played in front of 10,000 people. It was insane! My hands were shaking through the first three or four songs I remember. I wasn’t scared; it was fun. It was just so much adrenaline and energy. I mean, from the first song, people were up dancing, leaping and going absolutely nuts. A lot of the people who we’ve known for so long from out in California, as well as the people we had met on the first few tours on the East Coast, were there. It was really emotional.
The other moment I’ll always remember is being one the sidestage for The Black Crowes. This is a band that I’ve been going to see since high school. To get to watch them from that view, that perspective, after listening to them for so many years, it was really incredible. I was so stoked. It was incredible and a huge thrill for me personally.
Let’s go back to the beginning. Tell me the back story on how you guys got together.
It all began with Scott Rager, who’s our drummer, moving to the town of Arcadia, CA, which is the town where I grew up, when we were both like 12 years old. That was the first time that I met him. In high school, Scott played drums in a band with some of the guys where we lived. They had a band called The Salty Onion. The actually played The Strip a bunch of times, sold out The Whiskey. He was like fifteen years old cruising around in a limo in L.A., hanging with Ron Jeremy. It was this cheesy L.A. scene and he was right in the middle of it.
What kind of music did they play?
It was like the music of hair bands, but it was more of a joke. They had a song called “Alcoholiday” and another tune about bulimia. It was really funny, tasteless music. They were a huge sensation. He was the youngest guy in the band; his older brother was in the band as well. It was funny, because Scott comes from a pretty conservative, Christian family, but he was in this crazy band as a kid. It was pretty awesome.
At the time, I hadn’t started playing guitar yet. My best friend at the time lived up the street from Scott, and they were friends. So we used to go over and hang out, and I thought it was so cool that we got to sit there and listen to rehearsals. I started thinking about how cool guitars were and how it cool it would be to play the guitar. So that’s how I got started playing. I practiced and actually auditioned for The Salty Onion twice. The first time I auditioned, I couldn’t get the guitar in tune. I went home and knew I blew it, but I called them and convinced them to give me another shot. I went back and blew it again. I was really horrible.
That band eventually broke up, so Scott and I formed a little band in high school called the Parmalot. We played a couple of coffee shop gigs. All I remember from it was how cool I thought it was to be “playing a gig.” It was the greatest thing in the world.
Scott eventually graduated and moved up to San Francisco to go to college, and I was like, “Well, what the hell am I going to do?” So I told him to go up to San Francisco and find someone to play the bass, but don’t find a guitar player ‘cause I was going to come up after I finished high school.
Before I moved up, Scott met Ben (Chambers, bassist) on the quad at San Francisco State. I’ve never seen the pictures, but apparently Ben had this long, flowing golden hair (Laughs). He used to sit out on the quad playing his bass and practicing. So Scott walked over to him with two ideas in mind: one, he wanted to ask him if he wanted to get together and play some music; and two, he wanted to know if he could hook him up with some herbal remedies (Laughs). So Ben told him to come set his drums up over at his place. I think Ben had been playing for like three months at that point, but I guess he had the confidence to sit out on the quad and play. Scott goes over there and sets up his drums and they ended up getting really high.
Ben had this little rap demo tape he made at his uncle’s studio, where we recorded our first album, and it was “Planet of Green Love.” We still play it today. I actually heard that song before I met Ben; Scott sent this little demo tape to me and told me it was by the bass player he’d met that we were going to play with. We were all 18, 19 years old at the time, so it was pretty amusing.
I eventually moved up in January of 1997 and started practicing, just the three of us, in the bedroom at Ben’s place on Church Street. It was a tiny little room. Then we added another guitarist, a guy named Russell Slatton. We had him for a little while. He had a couple of songs, I had a couple of songs and Ben had a couple songs. We did a gig down south of Market (Street), this really bizarre gig. The other band had this lead singer dressed in a ruby-studded outfit. (Laughs) It was amazing. It was our first gig together as a band in San Francisco, and it was this totally new world. Then this guy walks in the door and it’s Trevor (Garrod, keyboards). He came to the party by himself, dressed in a bomber jacket, you know, this little indie kid. I’m not normally the most outgoing person in the world, but for some reason I said hello to him. I’d never met him before. Offered him a beer and passed him the bowl, and we started talking.
We eventually got onstage and played the only three songs we had over and over again, just complete drunk on whiskey. I remember there was this big tractor out front of this place, and all these drag queens walking around out there taking pictures in front of it. Trevor came up after the gig and handed me his number, said if we ever wanted someone to play keyboards, give him a call. He came by our next practice at Ben’s place and the first thing we asked him was, “Hey man, can you play space sounds out of that? We just want to hear space sounds.” (Laughs) He was cool with that, so that’s what he played at first – space sounds. Then we started talking about getting someone to sing, so we had a woman come sing with us and all these people come in to sing. One day, in his little geeky way, Trevor was like, “Hey guys, I’ve got a few songs to sing too.” We were all like, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever.” So he sang his song in front of all of us by himself. We had a few more practices, and he keeps bringing in songs to sing. Finally, we were just like, “Ok, you can sing.” Around that time, Russell left the band. So we settled in with just the four of us – Scott, me, Ben and Trevor.
You talked a little bit how you came into music as a kid. Do you remember your first musical memory? Did you come from a musical family?
No, not really. I remember there was a piano in my grandma’s house when I was a kid. Mainly, I used to lay my whole arm down on the keys and just try and make different sounds, you know. That was my starting point. From there, I remember being in kindergarten and sitting around in a circle in music class, singing songs. I always thought that was fun. I tried playing the clarinet at one point during school, but I was just such a clown. I didn’t ever pay attention or practice and really enjoyed just playing crazy sounds and listen to it just squeak. I remember we had this big concert where all the bands from the different schools in the district came together, and I just sat in the back with my friends trying to make them laugh by squeaking away on my clarinet. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. The conductor finally pointed at me and told me to get out. That was pretty much the end of that.
Talk to me a little bit about your approach to songwriting. Some people, like John Hiatt, are music first and then he fits the lyrics to the melody; others, like Warren Haynes, are lyrics first and then fit the melody to the words. How do you do it?
It changes every time. There are songs where it’s words first and then the music comes. I think the majority of them, now that I really think about it, are words first. I guess ‘cause I have to have an idea and a point to what I’m going to say. It’s harder sometimes when I have a cool lick on the guitar and then try and come up with the words to match it. If I have the words first, then I can usually come up with the music and turn it into whatever I want.
A lot of the time, we as a band write things together. A lot of our best stuff, in my opinion, has been a group effort. The instrumentals, like “Sex in the ‘70s,” are a good example. We have a lot of songs that are just born out of band practice.
It’s funny, our songwriting as a band usually comes in bursts. We have these creative bursts when we’re working on four or five new songs at the same time. That’s when we have time to actually practice. We also have the luxury that Trevor is a very prolific songwriter. He’s always got something new or is working on like 15 songs.
I’m much slower – I write maybe one to his 20 songs. He’s very disciplined in that way – he compulsively practices and works very hard. Usually when he brings a song in, he’s got it all worked out and down on paper. With me, I come in with the idea and fumble through trying to explain it to the guys for 45 minutes. It’s a blessing for us as a band to have someone like Trevor who’s always bringing something new in. I think we kind of balance each other out in that way – our methods are very different and our songwriting styles are very different. But the differences between our two approaches afford a nice wide spectrum for the band to play in. And I think it’s nice for the audience too.
What do you like to write songs about?
Ahhhhhh….I don’t know exactly. Usually I…I don’t tend to write songs when I’m particularly happy. (Laughs) I usually write when I’m in a darker mood, when I feel the urge to sit down, put something down or get something off my chest. My songs tend to be a little more ambiguous. I’ve found that I write a lot of anti-love songs. (Laughs)
A lot of the great songwriters that I’ve enjoyed over the years typically inhabit a character in their songwriting. Folks like Robert Hunter come to mind…
I love Robert Hunter’s songs. I love those old story songs, you know. Trevor’s got a great book of old timey folks songs, old Confederate army songs. One thing we like doing is taking those books on tour, take those lyrics from the old songs and then coming up with our own chord changes and melody for them. We have one tune, “Been So Long,” that we did that on. I love those old songs because of their simplicity. They’re so simple in the emotions they evoke and the stories they tell. It’s really difficult to find anything wrong with them. They’re these simple little songs that really directly convey the emotions and the meaning.
Tell me a little bit about the first East Coast tour. Any favorite memories?
Probably the thing I will remember most about that trip is when we pulled into Boston. We were in Boston for like 10 minutes and were approaching the venue where we were playing that night and pulled over to park. Allen, our manager, was driving and managed to wedge a fire hydrant into the back wheel well as he was backing the RV into the parking space and got us stuck. So the Boston Fire Department comes out, and they’re just laughing their asses off at us in an RV with California plates. They got back there with a few crowbars and managed to wedge us off the fire hydrant, thankfully. That was our introduction to Boston, which is kind of fitting because that town isn’t the most forgiving place. (Laughs) I love it there, but it’s not the easiest town for outsiders.
Riding in the RV through Manhattan was quite an experience. But leaving was probably the funniest part. We’re leaving New York and crossing over the George Washington Bridge. There were all these potholes everywhere, and Allen swung the RV on a hard turn to avoid one, which made the RV start to sway back and forth. All the cabinets and doors inside fling open, and everything goes flying. One of the cupboard doors actually snapped off its hinges and fell off. But everyone’s ok, so Allen keeps on driving.
A few minutes later, Allen starts screaming that he smells a gas leak or something and pulls over on the middle of the George Washington Bridge. We all pile out on the bridge, people honking and yelling at us. Finally, we figured out that the broken cupboard door fell and hit the stove, which turned on one of the burners and sent all this propane pumping into the air. We don’t ride in the RV anymore, and thank God for that. Those things are designed for grandma and grandpa, so the things we put it through really pushed its limits.
We had a lot of great times over the years in that RV – hundreds of people across the country have hung out with us in it. Especially when we were playing to like 50 people on our first tour of the East Coast. We’d just invite everyone back to the RV after the show for the after-party. It was all so new and unjaded – half of the places we played we didn’t know a single person there and never knew if anyone would even show up! (Laughs) On those first trips, hardly anyone ever did show up, but the next time we played, the people who were there the first time brought their friends, so the crowds got bigger. It was fun to watch from our perspective, as well as I’m sure it was fun to see from their perspective, bringing their friends and turning them on to new music. Everybody’s got a hand in it and everyone can take a certain amount of pride in it.
Let’s talk about San Francisco. This is a huge music town with a steep history. Tell me a little bit about playing music in this city.
I think it’s great. It’s the reason I moved away from L.A. It’s not as much an ego thing up here. There’s a great bunch of musicians up here that we’ve gotten to know over the years. Everyone is pretty supportive of one another. Sure, there are some healthy rivalries, but everyone wants everyone else to succeed.
I think a lot of musicians here would like to see the city return to being the Mecca of live, experimental music. It was the birthplace of the whole, for a lack of a better term, jamband movement in the first place with the Dead back in the ‘60s. That’s why I moved here in the first place – to play music in that kind of atmosphere. It’s taken a while for everyone to get to know one another and feel comfortable together – you know, sniff each other’s butts and stuff. But the great thing is San Francisco has it all – hard rockers and metal heads, indie rockers, hippie bands, everything. I love that. I don’t discriminate. I can’t stand people who are so genre specific, that just stick to their “scene” and don’t listen to anything else. I just think they’re selling themselves short. If I had a goal, it would be to have a band that’s universally liked by people of all interests and genres. That would be the ultimate to me. I mean, shit, everyone likes beer and rock ‘n roll right? I don’t see what the big deal is.
I want to hit on the whole jamband thing. My take is that the label is the result of a lack for a better term. Americans by nature like to put things in categories and label them. This jamband scene encompasses a lot of very different musics, be it rock, funk, folk, bluegrass, blues, electronica or jazz, and therefore defies any one label, so there’s no real accurate way to describe it. The problem I have with it is that, to a certain degree, the “jamband” label carries with it a stigma that isn’t always necessarily true.
Well, it’s media generated. Rolling Stone, for example, doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. They’ve basically ignored this scene, laughed at it and stomped on it, and then you see them now actually trying to cover it after Bonnaroo proved to be a success. They can shove it up their ass, if you ask me. You can quote me on that.
And I agree with you – the unfortunate thing is that it shuts people off. When someone hears the word “jam,” the first thing they think of is a bunch of burnt out people in Birkenstocks.
The reality is that within this community there are a lot of fresh, young artists making strides to push rock ‘n roll music to different levels. I wish you could call it something else so that people would realize that, so that people wouldn’t just associate it with a bunch of burn outs. It’s really unfortunate that a lot of the people in the music industry and music press can’t get beyond this label and just appreciate what some of these artists are doing, because there’s a lot of really cool music that they’re missing out on.
Another thing I wanted to ask you about is the Phish comparison. The comparison to Phish always seems to be looming for bands in this scene.
Yeah, I think it’s looming for everybody. They were obviously the biggest fish in the pond for a long time. They were definitely a role model for a lot of bands of our generation, both in the music and the way they grew and did their business. In turn, they borrowed from the blueprint that the Grateful Dead created. It’s kind of a cycle.
In terms of the music, there is a certain amount that I’ve borrowed in trying to build the jams or even my guitar solos to a peak. They didn’t always do it throughout their time as a band, but I remember one of the few Phish shows I saw when the music came to this incredible peak and it made everyone in the crowd feel so good. Of course, I want to make people feel real good through our music too. In that way, I think there are some similarities between what we do and what they did. But as we’ve grown as a band, I think we moved away a bit from that and become more song-oriented. Most of our first songs as a band were basically built around us just jamming. As we’ve gotten a little older, matured a bit and grown as a band, we’ve come to realize that the message is also important too.
That in the fact that early on, we played a lot of song in the major key and anytime you do that, you’re going to get compared to Phish. They can’t own that for the rest of eternity; someone else is going to have to get to have some fun with that. And I want to have some fun with that! (Laughs) All art – music, painting, dance, anything – all of it is built upon the groundwork that the ones that came before you laid down. Everyone has to stand on other people’s shoulders until you become tall enough to stand up yourself. No one just pulls this stuff out of thin air; everyone contributes to it and each generation builds on it and moves it forward.
What’s amazing to me is that no one ever calls me out on the licks I’ve stolen from Angus Young. No one ever says a word at the stuff I’ve literally stolen from Slash. It’s in there, and no one ever calls me out on that. I’m ripping off all sorts of people. I’m a rip-off artist. That’s what music is – musicians ripping off licks, riffs and styles from people that came before them. Shit, I’m going to take this Junior Brown CD I bought today, go home, listen to it and then rip Junior Brown off when we play our next gig. It’s almost a subconscious thing. So if all people want to say is “Trey, Trey, Trey,” get ready, ‘cause you’re going to have to start saying “Junior Brown, Junior Brown, Junior Brown!” (Laughs)
