Confessions of a Jamcruise Convert


David A. Schools


It was
about 45 kilometers east of Costa Maya, Mexico when we hit the military


armed soldiers – teenagers – kept watchful eyes on us while an officer walked
carefully around both vehicles. Another young soldier sat in a nearby hut, his
weapon lazily trained on the passenger in the first vehicle. Just another day
in Mexico,
I suppose, but the recent cartel violence got me thinking – “Why the hell did
we ever get off that damn boat?”


interesting question, as for nearly seven years I had sworn the last thing I
would do would be to get on that damn
boat. But a year ago I agreed to two performances by The Stockholm Syndrome on
Jamcruise 9 with one caveat: we could get off after our last performance so we
wouldn’t have to spend three more idle days on the ship.


What the hell was I thinking?


I was
thinking the band could use the money and the exposure. After all, we had a new
record coming out in February and Widespread Panic would be coming off of two
New Year’s Eve shows in Denver
where the temperature was sure to be below freezing. How could a few days on
the Gulf of Mexico beneath the warm sun be
that bad?


admit it; I’d always imagined Jamcruise as my worst nightmare – a real life
ship of fools. Billed as an opportunity for music fans to see their favorite
artists perform and to hang out with them as well, Jamcruise seemed like the
kind of indentured servitude on the high seas I needed to avoid at all costs.


get me wrong: I know without our fans I wouldn’t have a gig and nobody would be reading this article. I
love meeting the fans, especially the sincere ones; however my paranoid brain
reeled at the idea of being trapped and at the mercy of the “other” kind of
fan: the drunken, incoherent, and resentful tooth-grinder with flecks of dried
spittle glued to the corners of his mouth who corners me and goes on and on
about “That time at Red Rocks when Mikey materialized a double-helix rainbow
out of his guitar during Chilly Water….”



type of fan seems magnetically attracted to me at those times when I am least
prepared to deal with him in a friendly way. Whenever I observe this species in
his natural habitat, he always seems to be wandering in a dream-like reverie,
searching for the room with the best party or a friend who was rumored to be
holding the kindest buds on board. I wondered if anyone would actually miss one
of these resplendently high denizens of the live-music-loving community if he
were to “accidentally” fall overboard during a raging version of “Sugaree” as
interpreted by The New Tomato Groove Orchestra. Isn’t there an old
philosophical saw that asks, “If no one hears a drunk hippie hit the water, did
he really fall overboard?”


there I was in the early morning light of January 4, 2011 with the other band
members watching a crane hoist huge crates of sound gear 14 stories up the to
the pool deck of the whitewashed skyscraper known as the MSC Poesia: the
floating home of Jamcruise 9.


of “bon voyage” scenes from disaster-at-sea movies like “Titanic” and “The
Poseidon Adventure” came immediately to mind, where happy people were about to
embark on an exciting yet damned adventure at sea. Just when my paranoia had
reached fever pitch, I saw the twin spiritual figureheads of our cruise: Col.
Bruce Hampton (Ret.) and George Porter Jr. My mind eased, the clouds parted,
and the sun came out accompanied by a horn section and a choir of funky
background singers.


This might actually be fun.


the early hour and huge crowd of excited revelers, we managed to get on board
and find our stateroom. Of course, it was still being cleaned. In lieu of a
much needed nap, we made a beeline to the poolside bar where I was informed by
Robert Randolph that the acquisition of several drink ticket booklets would
make my life easier over the next few days. The wife agreed, and the first boat
drink soon followed.


After a
hilarious mandatory lifeboat drill featuring clunky life preservers for
everyone, it was naptime, though I couldn’t really call it a nap per se. It was
more like a few hours of fitful fever dreams enhanced by an endless loop on the
TV featuring recorded performances from past Jamcruise events and interviews
with musicians and partiers by the effervescent Cruise Director Julie McCoy
(aka Annabel Lukins of Cloud 9 Productions). 
The sound of Bob Weir and his trio’s strained poolside performance of
“Sugaree,” which drifted from the stage into my stateroom, finally forced me
into the shower.



I knew it, 2 am was upon us. Not bedtime, but show time for the Stockholm
Syndrome. That’s right, 2 am show time in the cool, blue darkness of the Teatro
De Felice theater. There was some nervousness in the dressing room, mainly
because we couldn’t find any paper to copy down Jerry’s hastily
scrawled-on-a-cocktail-napkin set list. On top of one of the lockers, I noticed
a familiar black binding: the kind that Kinko’s uses to put together a band’s
touring itinerary. Knowing that the back of every page would be blank, I
reached for it.


could have prepared me for what I saw: an itinerary for several days of
performances on a cruise event called SHIPROCKED.* Yes, it was a Heavy Metal
cruise featuring Cinderella, Vince Neil, Tesla, and a host of lesser-known
bands with brutal sounding names like Broken Teeth. The idea of funky,
boogie-style jam music seemed to go hand in hand with the sunny, happy vibe of
a Caribbean cruise. But Metal?! I laughed
imagining all these middle-aged Metal bands wandering the decks during the
daylight hours. Would there be full makeup? What about the preened hair? Would
they have Aquanet-wielding stylists in tow? And what about the groupie thing?
Would the sight of Vince lounging poolside in his trunks still thrill the
ladies of the road? Would Tesla perform their famous acoustic version of
“Signs” in the afternoon with colorful drinks for all? (Author’s note: While doing research for this article, I found a video
recap of Shiprocked and it looked like a real good time. Just like Jamcruise,
people of all ages, shapes, and walks of life came out to see their favorite


I was
ripped from my metallic daydream by our tour manager pondering the idea of a
Goth cruise with an abandoned pool area and an overflowing psych ward. We
copied down our set list and got on with our show, which, although a little
rusty at first, finally took off after a few songs. I couldn’t believe how many
people were still there at 4 a.m. when the set ended. The music never stops on
Jamcruise, except for a few hours around breakfast for food, power napping,
and, believe it or not, personal hygiene.


next few days were an unexpected pleasure. Being trapped on “the barge of doom”
as I had been referring to it for the previous 7 years was nowhere near as
horrifying as I had imagined it might be. My wife and I had a ball wandering
the halls with our friends, plundering the ship, and generally being treated to
a real good time. The Jam Room, hosted by a different musician each night,
provided some of the best musical moments. Like when I found myself at 5 a.m.
playing bass in a Buddy Miles inspired jam with some musician friends I didn’t
even know were on the damn boat. And although I never made it to the disco, I am
pretty sure it NEVER stopped.


In the
midst of my seven years’ worth of cynicism, paranoia, and sarcasm, I had
neglected to give Jamcruise a chance. It’s not like a regular in-and-out
festival in the middle of Nowhere, USA, but a cruise liner designed for
relaxation, partying, and overall feeling good while meeting fans and catching
up with your fellow tradesmen and friends in the business. This might be work,
but it’s nice work if you can get it.


days later I watched the sun come up as another floating city block eased into
the dock in Costa Maya to the thumping bass from the disco two decks above. The
party was over for me and soon I would be headed home to a mystery military
checkpoint and a new year. And as the pink light faded into the bright blue sky
of morning, I watched one lost and sweaty Jamcruiser repeatedly stumbling drink
in hand across the aft deck, still looking for that elusive never-ending party
room and completely unaware that it was happening all around him.






Due to
our early departure, we were unable to attend the annual Jamcruise awards
ceremony. I’m not sure what exactly we missed, but I came up with a few of my


Best Musical Performance: Galactic’s
superior and energetic rendition of Swamp Dogg’s “Total Destruction To Your
Mind” featured Living Color’s Corey Glover on vocals.


-Most Jealous Musical Moment: Jerry Joseph, Wally Ingram, and
Eric McFadden perform an incredibly moving version of Blitzen Trapper’s “Furr”
in the jam room and wishing that I knew the tune well enough to join in.


Most Personally Satisfying Moment: Bob
Weir, Jay Lane
and Rob Wasserman perform The Other One in the indoor theater venue. It was a
humid night, I was lost in the decks trying to find my party and I was pulled
into the venue by cool air and cool tunes. The seas were rough that evening and
the bow was moving up and down quite a bit so it was amazing how drummer Jay Lane integrated
the rolling of the waves into the tune’s inherent 6 count.


-Non-Musical Event I Wish I Hadn’t
: The Iron
Chef contest pitts Karl Denson, Col. Bruce Hampton, and JoJo Hermann against
each other in a battle of improvised culinary skill.


-Best Ears: Steve Kimmock, who displays a
supernatural ability to join any band playing any style and actually make the
music BETTER than it had been without him.


-Best Sanctuary: Shockingly, the Casino was not
only the emptiest and quietest but it was also the one place to smoke a
cigarette indoors.


-Best Original Costume: The ONE AND ONLY person who chose
to dress like a predator (wolf) on the night where everyone else was dressed in
zebra stripes.


Most Hilarious Moment: Ivan Neville and
George Porter Jr. discuss the meaning of “Who dat?” with Bruce Hampton in the
artists lounge.


-Most Disappointing Natural
sudden late night thunderstorm roars out of nowhere and punches a big wet hole
in Garage A Trois’ set in the middle of a mesmerizing vibes solo by Mike Dillon


– Most Overplayed Song of the
“Sugaree.” I love this tune, but hearing it performed by three entirely
different bands in three days was a little much… even for this Dead Head.


-Most Surprising Realization: Almost 100% of the fan
interaction I experienced was of the sincere kind. These folks were polite,
never got in my face, and made me feel great about my choice to join the crew.
I was happy to meet them all. Except for that one drunken woman who told me how
much she loved my band and then proceeded to literally kick my ass.


*Read all about the heavy metal Shiprocked!
cruise in the spring print issue of BLURT, on newsstands in mid-March. An
edited version of this blog will also be in the issue.- Ed.


Credit: Brad Hodge]




David A. Schools plays bass for
Widespread Panic and Stockholm Syndrome. You may have heard of ‘em. Widespread
Panic was honored this week by Georgia’s
House of Representatives and Senate to mark the Athens band’s 25th anniversary.
Meanwhile, Stockholm Syndrome releases its new album Apollo this week on
Response Record. Purchase on sight.


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