020 It's Over

... and nothing is wrong, we’re still getting along.

Everything felt right on Saturday night and it was all because of the wonderful people that came out. I couldn’t imagine a better last show than one big 90 minute celebration wiith dancing, singing friends. Thanks to each and every one of you! From DC, Florida, New Hampshire, New York, Arizona... It was incredible... especially after a good two years of feeling pretty low.

And that’s no secret. As Freddie Mercury eloquently sang, “It’s been no bed of roses, no pleasure cruise.” But in the same breath i can say that it was five years i’ll never forget and that’s a good thing. And so this week, I will expound on five really great memories I have of playing, touring, and being in Hey Mercedes: Here goes...

01 The Price Is Right

It was through some mutual friends that Vagrant caught wind of HM’s want of a record label, so without much ado, we decided to head to LA, play some shows, and meet with the man. This was in December 2000, four months after our first show... and we had to rely on so many of the friends that we had made from tours past. For the sake of this story, i have to really give credit and thanks to Kevin Knight. Not only did he put us up (and thus put up with us) for a few nights, but he arranged and joined us in the experience of a lifetime. Something we had audibly joked about and secretly dreamed about: We were going to a taping of The Price is Right. Hey Mercedes, come on down!

We had to wake up early to get there by 9:30 am and we weren’t too happy about that. I believe Mark actually said “this is the worst idea Hey Mercedes has ever had.” But after we had some coffee and a quick bite, we were abuzz with excitement. And I have to admit, on the way there, i was thinking of what i would do if i actually was called. My mind was racing through the aisles of the supermarket. Cough drops. $0.95? Gold bond. $1.50? Plinko chip placement. Center?

When we arrived, there was already a hefty line of folks bearing cheesy shirts that said the usual garbage like “marry me bob” or some other equally shameless ploy scribbled in marker. I looked on with disdain as the line piled behind us and we snaked around the turnstiles.

Now if i can blow the lid off of the whole process, it’s not some random drawing that determines who gets called up to Contestant’s Row. You actually have to audition. That’s right, the line eventually lead into an area where some guys with clipboards asked you questions. If you danced around like an idiot, if you wore some goofy saying on your shirt, if you were with an equally crazed posse, basically if you looked like you’d fit right in on a national TV show, your name was flagged on this producer’s list. They also put great effort in finding a nice cross section of Americana: race, gender, age, location... all parameters to keep in mind when you’re in charge of what gets shown on a game show being watched by millions.

With that being said, I thought we did a respectable job when it was our turn. Todd was first in line. He yelled about wanting to win some big money and the lot of us (11, i think) raised a big stink and did our best to impress these guys. Personally I think we did a better job than the group before us who actually prepared a song about Bob Barker. Ugh, they were so terrible. I hope they didn’t hear us giggling at their embarrassing display.

After hours of waiting in line, we received our ever important oversized name tags and filed into the studio. It seemed like random chance, even though some of us suspected otherwise... we were seated in the second to last row way up in the left corner. This basically knocked out all chance of us being on TV when the camera pans around. Within moments, the impeccably dressed Rod was onstage informing us that we were about to be on tv so we better act excited and clap loud and lemme hear ya and yadda yadda yadda. And then out comes Bob and the first five names. To be honest, i couldn’t hear the names because it was so damn loud with all of the clapping and we were so far back. Did they say just say Robert or Herbert or Barbara? Speak up, Rod! I was so torn up inside the whole time... I wanted to be called. I wanted to put a hole in one. I wanted to keep the yodeling mountain climber from heading over the cliff... But i didn’t want to be on stage, on TV.



No worry because none of us were called. We did have a quick exchange with Bob, though, during a commercial break. He would talk to the crowd during them about nonsense and noticed our rowdy crew. He asked who we were. We said a band on tour. He said something about alcohol and it was on with the show. It was that awkward and that quick... By the way, a member of the singing group before us in line was called to come on down. Unbelievable. I don’t think that chump even made it on stage, thankfully.

I’m sure we headed to Astro Burger straight from there. It was a safe haven for Hey Mercedes. We were all ALWAYS happy to be there. Kids in a candy store, still high from the experience, our hands tired and sore from clapping so damn much... and with so much of the day to go in the warm California sun. This was the beginning. Things were looking up!

***

Hey, I just heard that Bob Odenkirk (of Mr. Show fame) will be trying his hand at directing... The Fuck-Up! Chances are, I was reading that book (by Arthur Nersesian) during those shows mentioned above. It’s an extremely funny slice of a complete loser’s life in NYC without any cliche boring done-to-death slacker-ness, if you know what i mean. I only hope the movie can live up to the hype created in my head. If not, you’ll be hearing about it. Here.