We'll Be Here For the Rest of Our Lives (4 page)
Read We'll Be Here For the Rest of Our Lives Online
Authors: Paul Shaffer
The Stangles, Jerry and Sheila, thanks for the support
David thanks …
Paul Shaffer, “King of ’em All, Y’all”
Suzanne HerzSteve RubinDavid ViglianoPeter GethersClaudia HerrStacy CreamerEmily MahonGeoff MartinHelen AnsariRob KaufmanMy gang: Roberta, Alison, Jessica, Jim, Henry, Charlotte, Alden, James, Esther, Elizabeth, the great Pops Ritz and all the family, including Harry Weinger and Alan Eisenstock
1971–
The Brass Rail
.
I’m twenty-one, and I’ve made it. I’m playing on Yonge Street, Toronto’s main drag, where clubs like the Zanzibar and the Coq d’Or feature rockers like Rompin’ Ronnie Hawkins and David Clayton Thomas. To be honest, though, the Brass Rail is a little farther up the street on a slightly less swinging block
.
Doesn’t matter. I’m thrilled to be here and I’m thrilled to be providing musical accompaniment for the nightclub’s topless dancers. These girls may be a bit frayed around the G-string, but to me they’re simply irresistible. I’m also happy to see that many of my college pals, who have never before bothered to hear me play, are out in force. In fact, they’re so interested in my music that they’re sitting at ringside tables. As for me, I’m caught in an exquisite dichotomy: embarrassment versus erotic stimulation
.
It’s a grind—literally for the girls and metaphorically for me. My grind is the stringency of the set requirements: seven straight hours, from 6 p.m. to 1 a.m., fifty minutes on, ten off. I bring on the
dancers at the top of the set, when they do one number “covered,” then two topless. After a few tunes from the band, they return at the bottom of the set for more of the same. So at the end of this long and beautiful/awful night, it’s time to wrap it up
.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I intone, playing to my friends, “let’s hear it once again for the very lovely, extremely talented Brass Rail Topless Go-Go Dancers. The exquisite Donna. The enchanting Shanda. The delightful LaShana. The priceless Tiffany. And the irresistible Bree. We love them madly. Well, that’s about it for us. We are the Shaf-Tones. Please come back and see us. We’ll be here for the rest of our lives.”
Dylan and Me
Bob Dylan was standing two feet away from me. It was the late seventies, and I was the piano player on
Saturday Night Live
. I was talking with his current producer, the legendary Jerry Wexler, as we watched Dylan rehearse his band. I was right where I belonged. Surely God had blessed me by putting me in this favored position. Only one problem: Dylan was wearing a huge cross.
So what was the problem?
A little background information: I grew up in an Orthodox synagogue. I also grew up at the end of Highway 61. My hometown of Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada, is at the northern extreme of that storied road. Thunder Bay is where my close friend Wayne Tanner, one of the original Dylanologists, turned me on to the great singer/songwriter. His album
Highway 61 Revisited
was the Talmud to the Torah of my life. I learned Al Kooper’s high organ line and Paul Griffin’s piano part on “Like a ‘Rolling Stone” note for note, sound for sound. The keyboard combination helped define Dylan’s new sound.
And the sound made me absolutely crazy. Then there was the certain knowledge that Dylan, the most important poet of our generation, was also a
landsman
. Bobby Zimmerman was a fellow Jew.