SINCE
THEN, Dee Dee has filled every female role required by the comedy sketches,
a list of infamous women that includes Tammy Baker, Catwoman, Wade Boggs'
girl friend whose name we can't now recall, Marcia Clark from the O.J. trial,
Shelley Fabres, Luu Luu, and most consistently and effectively Connie Francis.
Dee Dee does "Where
the Boys Are" like there is no tomorrow, no yesterday -- a timeless
ode to Spring Break. And we are bringing it back again this season.
The
years have mounted with alarming speed, but the comedy material remains fresh
from TV land, as our writers are 20 plus year veteran T.V. sitcom producers
- Gary Murphy is currently the executive producer for Malcolm in the Middle,
and served in that capacity for five seasons of Night Court; likewise our
piano player/stage director, Larry Strawther also produced Night Court for
five seasons (Larry left the Glass Packs forLaverne & Shirley 25 years
ago). They know what's funny, where to stand, where to edit, and so on, and
the rest of us defer to their judgment. Add to that comedian- actor, personal
friend and former sidekick of David Letterman, Bob Sarlatte, and you've got
a pretty well qualified comedy tag team.
Perhaps
the most versatile guy in the group is a girl and her name isn't Dee Dee.
It's Jeannine -- Jeannine O'Neal . Jeannine won the Bend, Oregon Patty Duke
Look alike Contest in 1978, but is really more like the quiet studious Cathy
Duke, until she opens her mouth to sing. She joined us in 1988; a mere baby
that arrived only 13 years ago. Jeannine is the most qualified utility girl
there is; her main instruments are tenor and bari sax, guitar, bass and drums
and she sings like an alley cat. While she is a professional studio musician
and arranger, she only sings one song with the Glass Packs and its not a Sunshine
and Lolliop Lesley Gore tune, it's a mean, friggin' Bob Seeger song - "Betty
Lou". She does dirty old man's work with a smile.
Meanwhile, the supporting cast of veteran hambones are fearless, hungry lab
rats, willing to go anywhere in any disguise for the cheese and each remains
responsible for that portion of the show that he or she is dedicated to carry.
Eighteen year later, thirty years all together, Butch Whacks & the Glass
Packs continues as a live act that is dangerously close to improv in light
of the time constraints imposed by our day jobs, the distance still separates
us and the amount of new material that is added each year (usually a third
of the two hour show is new each year).
This year, for example, we are doing a sketch on Bob Dylan's motorcycle accident
(perhaps you read about it) where the rootless troubadour wanders away from
the hospital and is found touring with the Pharaohs in place of Sam the Sham
- featuring the dead on Dylan singing style by drummer Mike Moore dressed
as the Mr. Highway 61 Revisited himself singing and blowing the harp to a
two minute medley of Lil' Red Riding hood/Wooly Bully - just long enough to
make the joke before the sound of the song kills you.
Last year we reprised our County Show from the 70's act, this time featuring
that Lonesome Cowpoke Conway Twit who reminds us that "Cowpoke"
is just an expression (see
video clip --- "Country Show" ) before kicking up dust into
"Six Days on the Road". Conway is followed by a cotton candy coiffed
Dee Dee Crocket as Tammy Whynot? , who brings the roof down with a mournful
"Stand By your Man", and Bob Sarlatte as jailbird Hank Bunion (Johnny
Cash on steroids) who is greeted by the slam of prison door after recalling
he just got back from the Big House and can no longer own a puppet in the
State of Tennessee.
Yeah we're a laugh riot. Last year we did the Lettermen without pants. Don't
ask us why this is funny. Our writers guaranteed it would be and it was. We
sang the "Goin' Out of My Head/You're Just to Good to Be True" letterman
perfect (Mike Moore, Jeannine O'Neal and Butch) as the real Lettermen, while
the three slick -haired, sweater clad men without pants at center stage pantomime
our singing - complete with canned applause loaded into our keyboard player's
(Tom Thomasello) sound effect disc.
The
middle third of the show consist of material that is 2-4 year old and the
last third is what remains of the bearded chestnuts that chased into our present
careers in 1976. That middle third consists this year of the "Glass Pack
Time Machine" - an excuse to go anywhere we want in music history without
the need for a current anniversary reference. This year we are going back
to the Summer of Love only because when we did in 1997 it was of the funniest
things we had ever done, and Dee Dee simply sing the fur off of "White
Rabbit". Bob Sarlatte as the Woodstock emcee, "Too Much" Johnson,
is worth the price of admission - He can't find his van, he can't find his
clip board because his left arm is completely numb, he eats the Airplane out
of house and home - as he walks on to "Warm San Francisco Nights,"
complete with mandolin "sway with me people".
Still kicking around is a very mangy "Three Dog Night" who stomp
on to the stage to the musical accompaniment of "One (is the Loneliest
Number)" and then do their best to bumble through "Joy To the World",
but can't remember any of the words except "and she always had some mighty
fine wine".
These
ventures off the straight and narrow path of 50's and 60's music were made
possible by the 1987 addition of Tom Thomassello, a 21-year veteran professional
arranger, who takes the black and white versions of these songs and puts them
properly in Technicolor. When we need strings, he's got them. Need an accordion?
He's there with Lady of Spain. Pedal steel? Comin' right up, pardner. Did
someone ask for sound effects? Tom has an entire library of joke effects that
are integral to the Glass Packs show ranging from the "Ike Turner punch
("Tshht)", the James Brown "Yeow. Yeow. Yeow. Yeow" (Live
from South Carolina a State prison), and snorting cattledrive steers to greet
Conway Twit. Tom arranges the difficult songs, back up the Lucky Strike Singers
(See
video page), writes chord charts for the blind musicians to read, and
directs this band of fools into previously uncharted waters, notwithstanding
our lack of formal music training.
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