Johnny Echols of Love with Baby Lemonade: the concert at Bell's Eccentric Cafe

On Tuesday, April 29, we saw Johnny Echols perform with the band Baby Lemonade (doing double duty as both themselves and the band Love) at Bell's Eccentric Cafe in Kalamazoo. (Because Lansing apparently isn't allowed to have cool shows like this--we have to drive an hour-and-a-half elsewhere. But I digress).

I never saw Arthur Lee perform in his various 1990s/2000s tours and shows, so when I saw that Johnny Echols was venturing on a tour with Baby Lemonade--and that one of the stops was in Kalamazoo--I knew I absolutely had to go, or I might regret it for the rest of my life.

A day before the show, I saw a Facebook post about the Echols tour from a "virtual friend" (writer Dan Epstein) who is "real life" friends with Baby Lemonade's guitarist Mike Randle. I mentioned in the post that I'd be at the Kalamazoo show and Mike replied that I should seek him out at the show and say "hello." I wasn't sure what the logistics of that would be, but I was determined that I'd give it a shot. Well, lo and behold, I saw him walking from the merch table to the backstage area about a half-hour before the show and blurted out, "Mike!" He quickly turned around, probably wondering who this lunatic was practically shouting his name. "Hi, I'm Mark! I'm the guy who wrote on Dan Epstein's Facebook post!" I think that was enough to jar his memory and he opened his arms to give me a big hug. It was a truly sweet moment. Just at that point, Lynda emerged from the restroom and was able to introduce herself as well. Mike graciously gave us a lowdown of the show and then headed backstage.

Armed and fueled up with our respective Bell's beers, we were ready when Baby Lemonade took the stage. Though I had been aware of Baby Lemonade since the 1990s when they supported Arthur Lee as his band and had heard the Forever Changes live album they recorded with Arthur, I had never heard them as just "themselves." As it turns out, they are a wonderful band and I enjoyed what I heard. Lead vocalist Rusty Squeezebox has a sharp sense of humor and an inviting, pleasant personality. The rest of the guys are all excellent players. I like their combination of hooks, gentle psychedelia, and straight-up rock, reminding me a bit of favorite bands of mine like Lemonheads and Sloan. They concluded their set with a deep cut by the Beach Boys which I'd never heard before ("Wind Chimes"?) which made me think I really need to investigate the Smile album,  and then blasted through a spirited cover of the Replacements' "Left of the Dial." (Those two covers demonstrate the breadth of their musical taste and inspirations).

During the intermission, we refueled with a couple more Bell's beers. I moved on from the basic Bell's Oberon and tried the Bell's Orange Vanilla Oberon. (I'm not generally a fan of flavored beer, but the sweetness wasn't overpowering).

When Baby Lemonade and Johnny hit the stage, I damned near had to pinch myself. I couldn't believe that I was standing less than ten feet from the original lead guitarist of one of the greatest rock bands in the history of Los Angeles. Hell, as far as I'm concerned, one of the greatest bands in history. A band that the Doors once aspired to match. Johnny was dressed comfortably in a dark Adidas jersey/athletic shirt with the number 16 emblazoned on the front, dark khaki-ish pants, and dark slip-on loafers. He looked like a well put-together granddad, and I really don't mean that as an insult. He appears to be in excellent shape and I can only hope to look as fit and healthy as Johnny does if I make it to age 78.

It turns out that, not only does Johnny look good, he still shreds on guitar. I never fully appreciated how good Johnny Echols is as a musician until actually witnessing him play. His playing was tasteful and precise. He looked like a master craftsman who has spent over six decades honing his skills. The glasses and knit hat he wore lent him a professorial air, as well.

Rusty continued as an excellent master of ceremonies and lead singer. At one point in the show, he asked the crowd, "What's the greatest album of all time?" (probably with the expectation that we'd all answer Forever Changes or some other Love album). A young woman named Alyssa in the very front row yelled, "Pet Sounds!" That elicited some good-natured ribbing from Rusty. He said something like, "Well, it does have some questionable tracks, am I right? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a great album. But "Sloop John B"? Come on!..." It was all in good fun, and nothing mean-spirited. I give Alyssa credit for being honest.

On the subject of Alyssa (the only reason I know her name is because Rusty asked her what her name was), she appeared to be there with a friend and they may have been the two youngest people at the show. I estimate their ages at probably around early to mid-twenties--so much closer to my kids' ages than to my age. They dressed like they'd taken a trip in a time machine from 1969 to 2025--not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm happy to see music and culture of this vintage resonating with young people.

I think it's best for me to run through some of my highlights of the show quickly, before I forget:

Johnny's one lead vocal of the night was on "Signed D.C.," Arthur Lee's unflinching portrayal of a drug addict. I was impressed with his singing, because I don't think he ever sang a lead vocal on record with Love. Maybe background vocals, but never a lead vocal. He changed the final line of the song to "Signed, J.E.," making him the subject of the song. I know Johnny struggled with substance abuse, so the lyrics of the song clearly resonate with him.

Baby Lemonade's bass player, James Nolte, is the son of their former bass player (David Nolte). He can't be older than 25, and in fact looks like he's about 18. However, he is a big Love fan, an excellent musician, and has the Love logo tattooed on one of his arms. I think it's the song "Gazing" (from the first album) that, according to Rusty, includes a mistake by original Love bass player Ken Forssi. The Baby Lemonade "kid bass player" takes it so seriously that he actually plays the mistake just to keep the sound accurate. Now, that is dedication.

There was an audience member named John who was particularly boisterous--jovially boisterous, thankfully--so he received some humorous comments from the band. "This song goes out to John," and that kind of thing.

I was a bit disappointed with the turnout. I wish there had been more people there because Johnny and the band deserved more. That said, it was a spirited and happy (small-ish) crowd and, as audience member John said, it was "all of the smartest people in Kalamazoo."

I briefly thought of shouting out "Play "Revelation"!" in reference to the band's notorious 18-minute jam on side 2 of the Da Capo album--but I didn't do it. The potential risk/reward of such an outburst seemed to lean too heavily in the "risk" direction, so I buttoned my lip. I really didn't need the band to hate me and feel like a complete ass for the rest of the evening.

This was the first time in my life I had ever heard any Love song performed live by anyone, much less a band featuring one of the original members. I liken it to seeing a famous painting in an art book and then seeing the real thing in a museum. The example that immediately comes to mind is when I first saw Georges Seurat's A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of the Grande Jatte at the Art Institute of Chicago in summer 1995. I had long admired the painting when I saw it in books or in prints/postcards, but nothing prepared me for seeing it "in the flesh" ("in the canvas?"). I wandered into a gallery not knowing it was in there, and when I turned my head and saw this massive painting on the wall, it was one of the most profound moments of my life. I think I teared up and had to sit down to take in the emotion of the moment. Standing only a few feet in front of Johnny Echols and watching him play the guitar solo for a song like "Your Mind and We Belong Together"--a solo, in its recorded form, that I had been so moved by for decades--that was an emotionally staggering moment.

When the concert ended, Rusty announced that Johnny would be available near the merch table to talk and sign whatever anyone wanted. This is when I was disappointed that I didn't bring the old vinyl copy of Forever Changes I had bought decades ago. But would I have really wanted to lug it around Bell's for three hours? No. So I decided to simply buy a $1 Forever Changes decal and also ask Johnny to sign our tickets. (For the first time in a long time, I decided to request paper tickets rather than the electronic version. I am so glad I did). Then the conundrum was, what do I say to Johnny when it's my turn? I decided to simply be polite and succinct. I first made sure that he didn't mind signing three different items (he was fine with that) and then I simply said, "Thank you for everything. Thank you for the music. Thank you for enriching my life." There really wasn't anything more that needed to be said. I'm sure he's heard that all before, but he politely took it in (or so I think). 

And then it was the long drive back home and trying to focus on the road while my brain processed everything that had just taken place in the last 3 1/2 hours.

(It's time for me to write my "Love origin story," so look for that in a future blog post. I'd include it here, but this post has already become quite long).