Do a Barrel Roll.
The ringmaster of The Legend Continues decided to practice his auto erotic asphyxiation spinning back fist, over compensated, and severed his spirit from the physical world. I always imagined that he would overdose or be stabbed, but never INXS’d to death. I find myself pondering what would be a reasonable death for a man who graced us with his presence in the yellow book commercials and such hits as “Big Stan” with Rob Schneider. After a long meditation, I feel it is fitting that he go out in Bangkok, naked in a closet.
After David Carradine kicked everyone’s ass a hundred times over in the cinema, he decided to form a band. Let me say that again. David Carradine had a band. OK. Apparently he turned 70 and decided to form a band of rapscallions on the verge of global domination through the intense power of folk/rock. Not really, but we can dream. He really did have a band, David Carradine and the Cosmic Rescue Team. His first recording session was at Club Iridium in Times Square, NYC, 6/28/06, for two shows, and I was one of the recording engineers. His people contacted some more people who contacted me and a partner in crime to take on this kung fu force flying right at us with his Japanese flute in tow. We secured a rehearsal space for him a day prior to the recording on the upper west side of Manhattan; Seinfeldland. He originally was supposed to show up at noon, but at 2:00pm we received a phone call from his agent explaining that he would be late because he was having a scotch. Understandable, he’s old and a star, so scotch isn’t out of the question or out of the answer.
The show itself was met with mixed reviews. It ranged from terrible to awful. I was sitting side stage during the second performance and David Carradine farted. It was one of those “who invited a nursing home on stage,” melt your face off kind of gas-passery. It was so foul, it actually mucked up my vision, gave me vertigo, nausea and I’m sure I can’t have kids now because of the exposure. I am biased, though, because I was cranky at the time. I hadn’t slept in three days and wasn’t looking forward to the fourth. Not for this kung fu fart bubble.
All in all, it wasn’t a bad gig. I got to meet a celebrity and watched Hung fu [sic] fall on his guitar sword. After the show was over and we were packing up, he did come over to me to shake my hand. He said, “Thank you so much.”