Four Times Ten = JTC
Jason Cassidy is the kind of guy that would give you the shirt off his back, the skin off his frame, the enamel from his teeth . . .you get the idea. The guy has never heard the word selfish. To be able to call Jason a friend means everything, as here is a person that values people, and through his actions, shows it beyond any kind words people might promise. He doesn’t promise, he simply does.
I met Jason Cassidy over twenty years ago. He was a friend of a girl I was dating. Her name was Amy C., and her dad was our school doctor, meaning my old lady’s dad fondled my balls so I could go out for basketball and NOT make the team after raising money by shooting five hundred free throws . . . So yes, thanks to Amy C. I met a friend I would know for twenty some odd years and growing. A friend unafraid of new adventures and always willing to enter them with a positive plan in mind.
I feel proud that Jason met his wife through me, but I don’t even know if I can take credit for that. I am a firm believer that he and his wife Connie, being two generously kind, warm individuals, probably would have gravitated towards one another somehow . . .Throughout their marriage, our friendship only blossomed. We became closer, performing in bands, putting on shows, and music festivals.
The band we spent the most time playing music in together was called Cowboy. I pitched Mangina as a name, but somehow Jason’s wife Connie was not keen on the idea, so Cowboy it was! When I joined, they had already been a three piece. Guitar, Drums, and Voice. They were incredible. Nik Abodeely was one of those drummers that usually stole the show with incredibly playing, and enough flair to draw all eyes his direction. Jason’s guitar was a Fender Mustang, and it had the typical wonderful clanging sound the vintage Fender’s often had when used in a particular fashion. Jason’s fashion was extremely loud, and sonically ambitious with dollops of feedback, heavy chording, and jangly chiming pop. Really, it was a miracle that Connie’s sweet voice could be heard above the din. It was, and it worked. So, I felt a bit self-conscious joining what already worked and worked quite well. Let me put it this way, it was a real blow to my ego when the presence of a bass in the band was ignored and perhaps upset the town of Olympia, Washington . . . or at least the guy that had offered to record the band for free when they were a three piece.
Pat Maley, of the band Courtney Love and Yo-Yo-A-Go-Go Recording Studios fame had offered to record Cowboy for free when he caught them at a party in Olympia on a previous tour. When they arrived to record at the Capitol Theatre, I, being the bass player was now part of the package. Pat did not look all that excited, even though I had brought a bottle of Barbara Streisand wine to woo his favor. I made clever conversation, I joked, I asked Olympia Rock History questions, and also bought a yo-yo from Pat. I don’t think Pat liked me. I was the bottom end and was kind of being treated like a bottom end . . .I survived. Maley’s an okay guy. And Cowboy went forth to . . . do something!
Before Cowboy called it quits after a few years, we issued a full-length Explosion and Collapse, did a couple tours to the Pacific Northwest, played with the Murder City Devils, Kinski, Versus, and many more bands that came through town. We also spent time recording with the amazing John Croslin at SF’s Tiny Telephone Studios. This was a big deal to me as Croslin had been the leader of a favorite band of mine, Austin’s Reivers. The Reivers put out at least two incredible, unforgettable albums; Translate Slowly and Always Saturday. Besides Croslin’s charming humor and great take on recording, the studio had a talking Jar Jar Binks model that proved to be hours of bad entertainment - translation (slowly), hours of laughing at the offensive toy.
“Large” is the Cowboy song included below this posting, simply because it is the song we played the most times. I think it might have been Jason’s favorite song to play, or it was a song people might have liked to hear at the shows. We recorded the basic tracks of this in Olympia, WA with Maley, and later added newer member Brad Nabor’s guitar and some other business at some studio here in Chico. The song for some reason reminds me of Stereolab, and I can’t quite tell you why.
Jason continues to play music in Chico. His last endeavor was called MURDER! with fellow journalist Mark Lore on drums. The band was exciting and made live shows an event with plastic curtains splattered with red. Their debut was an opening slot for New Jersey Rock Geniuses Titus Andronicus. The show was one of the best in recent memory. Before this band, Jason spent much time playing, and recording an idea he held as sort of a rotating collective with a core. It was called The Party. He used communist imagery and the color red as a means of advertising the project. The band issued it’s sole release a few years ago, and though it may be something impossible to find in record stores, with a little luck, perhaps it will be on Itunes in the near future. The song included here is a rag tag march of shuffling drums, playfully strummed guitar, and charming banjo lines. Here, Jason Cassidy’s yelps (not unlike Isaac Brock’s) ride the shambolic wave and push it with enough passion and vigor to inspire all listeners’ hearts to rise. The song itself is tangible proof of how Cassidy sees the power of music and invokes its gifts.
I could construct so many more chapters detailing all and everything Jason Cassidy has done for his friends, and for his town . . . I think a whole other entry will have to be given for our Superwinners Summer Rock Academy . . . I know that there will be so much more he has to give, and will give. People with hearts this big are rare, and important to celebrate, to let them know that all they do from little to momentous is important and noticed. I know that anyone reading this will identify and know a similar person in their sphere and be able to relate. These people make towns click, and generate electricity.
The Porpoise is not a Manatee, but it is what Jason’s wife thought whenever I called him The Porpoise. I called him The Porpoise as he was always chipper, dynamic, and up for anything - a demeanor that reminded me of the buoyancy of these sea creatures. Connie always responded negatively whenever I tossed this nickname his way. I thought it cheerful, she thought it depressing and not very charitable. You see, she saw in her mind the Manatee whenever I called him Porpoise. I understood. As sweet as a Manatee appears, they also look like sluggish elephant dolphins that munch raw sewage near the seashores . . . I understood. Needless to say, Connie and I’s friendship took a positive step forward when she remembered what a porpoise really looked like.
