ME and the KEY(S) to UMPHREY'S MCGEE: THE JOEL CUMMINS INTERVIEW
Rivalfish traveled this month to the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival to explore the connection between music and sports -- from the perspectives of both fans and performers. What follows is our humble-but-fantastic-looking editor's narrative and interview with Umphrey's McGee keyboardist, Joel Cummins.
By Tello Real, mraspatello@rivalfish.com
By Tello Real, mraspatello@rivalfish.com
On October 11th, 2001, I dragged my band of suburbanite hippy friends out of their Ann Arbor rental palaces and into the western suburbs of reemerging Detroit - for a dose of Chicago 
culture. We were U of M students, teeming for Hash Bash and our generation's dose of the counterculture. The best we future Rivalfisherman could do was an overpriced bubbler, an eighth, and an Umphrey's McGee show.
Spreading jam like a butter knife, the boys of Umphrey's took the stage with a task for the nine likeminded fans on the floor of this miniscule venue. A new tune needed a name. At this point in the band's evolution, they hadn't yet reached the festival-packing status they've attained today, so they sometimes enjoyed more modest crowds when playing an I-94-trip-away from their adopted hometown of Chicago.
Tonight was one of those nights. I had a suggestion for that song title and I knew it
would be heard. All 20 years of my maturity shouted in unison, "DIRTY SANCHEZ!" They nodded almost knowingly and began the song. Had I named a rock tune? Had they merely wanted to shut me up? I immediately dismissed the entire happening until perusing the show's setlist the following day online. There it was, "Dirty Sanchez," the third song played in the second set. I had named a rock song. My counterculture-obsessed pops hadn't done that shit before. For weeks and months and years to come, I'd check on my creation, which was later changed to "Hurt Bird Bath (Dirty Sanchez)" and eventually just "Hurt Bird Bath." Nevertheless, I had made my stamp on the patchouli-soaked pantheon of jamband lore.
U
pon returning from Bonnaroo, where Rivalfish ventured as esteemed media in search of the truest correlations between music and sport, I had the opportunity to ask Joel Cummins, Umphrey's keyboardist and backup vocalist, a lone question: Was my anecdote the mere delusion of a kid who spent the remainder of the night in question mesmerized by the movie being played on the back of his eyelids? Or was I due for a writer's credit?
"No offense to your creativity, Mike, but there's been many instances when we had a song that needed a title and asked the audience. Pretty much every time, someone has yelled "Dirty Sanchez," Joel responded.
Fuck.
He felt bad and warranted me an interview. No Keith Emerson to add to my resume, but then again I never saw Keith Emerson sing Michael Jackson's half of the "Girl is Mine" d
uet and make a psilocybin-filled teenager shit his pants with the key solo from "Kimble."
I think he made a good choice, as Rivalfish and Umphrey's are practically cut from the same sheet of bud brownies. Rivalfish was birthed by two Cubs fans and a Sox fan. Umphrey's boasts a Cubs-sympathizing majority, with guitarists and lead vocalists Brendan Bayliss and Jake Cinninger joining Mr. Cummins himself as foolish supporters of the baby bears. Meanwhile, percussionist Andy Farag is the only non-insane band member that roots for the handsome champs in black. While drummer Kris Myers can't even decide which team to root for, what does superfan Joel think will transpire this weekend in the new incarnation of The Crosstown Classic? 2-out-of-3 for the Cubs, exactly like 2-out-of-3 of the douchebags behind Rivalfish have predicted. Joel is so sure of this outcome that he has arranged a friendly wager with Bob Ston, Umphrey's Monitor Engineer. If the Cubs do in fact take the series, Bob, a lifelong Sox fan, has to wear a Cubs jersey for the next nine years. Vice Versa if the Sox win the three-game set. Likewise, per their annual arrangement, the boys of Rivalfish are wagering their blood plasma. That shit sells for straight cash!
So who knows about the athlete/musician correlation, but the sportswriter/musician correlation is picking up steam. On to my next quarry!
When and if ladies aren't impressed with their current life and profession, do the boys of Umphrey's mimic the boys of The Fish and recall tales of past athletic accomplishment in a second attempt at successful courtship? Supposedly they don't need to, as they are all happily involved, but in a jam, sound man Kevin Browning can mention his marathon training, and bassist Ryan Stasik can drop panties with his stories of sharing a diamond with Derek Jeter back in Kalamazoo, MI. Even Joel admitted to ties that can be easily parlayed into a night of passion and canoodling, at least in Ann Arbor. As a kid he went to summer basketball camp. At that summer camp, he allegedly beat Juwan Howard in a left-handed layup contest. Then he injured his knee jumping off of a car and dancing like an asshole, ending his chances of ever playing "21" with the entire Fab Five. Foolish rock star!
Spooky. We sportswriters love doing that too! I usually tell chicks that I was Academic All-State, even though Illinois doesn't even give that award, and I think Ticklebass Ansell still wears his Amherst Baseball rain pullover whenever we set him up on a blind date with a deaf girl. Cornelius Merz, the only true athlete of the bunch, beat Michelle Wie on the links the day after her 5th birthday. Rivalfish and Umphrey's McGee are practically brothers.
There is one last linkage between my posse and the instrumentalists behind the
band that Rolling Stone called the most likely successor to Phish's "jam-smeared crown" that I yearn to prove: Everyone that has ever been affiliated with Rivalfish or related to anyone that has ever been affiliated with Rivalfish absolutely loathes all things Notre Dame. The mention of the Gold and Blue makes my dead grandmother pray for purgatory and my girlfriend puke in my trousers. I'm not even going to tell you what the thought of The Irish did to Ticklebass' parents' marriage.
So do the boys of Umphrey's McGee concur with the views of the Rival Room's own? Are sportswriters and rock stars truly one in the same? Should I start prowling the backalleys of the Sunset Strip in search of a groupie slamhog? Joel, do you guys all despise Notre Dame?
"Mike, pretty much the entire band studied music at Notre Dame."
Fuck. I didn't want more brothers anyway. Especially older ones. My girlfriend's already wondering.
culture. We were U of M students, teeming for Hash Bash and our generation's dose of the counterculture. The best we future Rivalfisherman could do was an overpriced bubbler, an eighth, and an Umphrey's McGee show.Spreading jam like a butter knife, the boys of Umphrey's took the stage with a task for the nine likeminded fans on the floor of this miniscule venue. A new tune needed a name. At this point in the band's evolution, they hadn't yet reached the festival-packing status they've attained today, so they sometimes enjoyed more modest crowds when playing an I-94-trip-away from their adopted hometown of Chicago.
Tonight was one of those nights. I had a suggestion for that song title and I knew it
would be heard. All 20 years of my maturity shouted in unison, "DIRTY SANCHEZ!" They nodded almost knowingly and began the song. Had I named a rock tune? Had they merely wanted to shut me up? I immediately dismissed the entire happening until perusing the show's setlist the following day online. There it was, "Dirty Sanchez," the third song played in the second set. I had named a rock song. My counterculture-obsessed pops hadn't done that shit before. For weeks and months and years to come, I'd check on my creation, which was later changed to "Hurt Bird Bath (Dirty Sanchez)" and eventually just "Hurt Bird Bath." Nevertheless, I had made my stamp on the patchouli-soaked pantheon of jamband lore.U
pon returning from Bonnaroo, where Rivalfish ventured as esteemed media in search of the truest correlations between music and sport, I had the opportunity to ask Joel Cummins, Umphrey's keyboardist and backup vocalist, a lone question: Was my anecdote the mere delusion of a kid who spent the remainder of the night in question mesmerized by the movie being played on the back of his eyelids? Or was I due for a writer's credit?"No offense to your creativity, Mike, but there's been many instances when we had a song that needed a title and asked the audience. Pretty much every time, someone has yelled "Dirty Sanchez," Joel responded.
Fuck.
He felt bad and warranted me an interview. No Keith Emerson to add to my resume, but then again I never saw Keith Emerson sing Michael Jackson's half of the "Girl is Mine" d
uet and make a psilocybin-filled teenager shit his pants with the key solo from "Kimble."I think he made a good choice, as Rivalfish and Umphrey's are practically cut from the same sheet of bud brownies. Rivalfish was birthed by two Cubs fans and a Sox fan. Umphrey's boasts a Cubs-sympathizing majority, with guitarists and lead vocalists Brendan Bayliss and Jake Cinninger joining Mr. Cummins himself as foolish supporters of the baby bears. Meanwhile, percussionist Andy Farag is the only non-insane band member that roots for the handsome champs in black. While drummer Kris Myers can't even decide which team to root for, what does superfan Joel think will transpire this weekend in the new incarnation of The Crosstown Classic? 2-out-of-3 for the Cubs, exactly like 2-out-of-3 of the douchebags behind Rivalfish have predicted. Joel is so sure of this outcome that he has arranged a friendly wager with Bob Ston, Umphrey's Monitor Engineer. If the Cubs do in fact take the series, Bob, a lifelong Sox fan, has to wear a Cubs jersey for the next nine years. Vice Versa if the Sox win the three-game set. Likewise, per their annual arrangement, the boys of Rivalfish are wagering their blood plasma. That shit sells for straight cash!
So who knows about the athlete/musician correlation, but the sportswriter/musician correlation is picking up steam. On to my next quarry!
When and if ladies aren't impressed with their current life and profession, do the boys of Umphrey's mimic the boys of The Fish and recall tales of past athletic accomplishment in a second attempt at successful courtship? Supposedly they don't need to, as they are all happily involved, but in a jam, sound man Kevin Browning can mention his marathon training, and bassist Ryan Stasik can drop panties with his stories of sharing a diamond with Derek Jeter back in Kalamazoo, MI. Even Joel admitted to ties that can be easily parlayed into a night of passion and canoodling, at least in Ann Arbor. As a kid he went to summer basketball camp. At that summer camp, he allegedly beat Juwan Howard in a left-handed layup contest. Then he injured his knee jumping off of a car and dancing like an asshole, ending his chances of ever playing "21" with the entire Fab Five. Foolish rock star!
Spooky. We sportswriters love doing that too! I usually tell chicks that I was Academic All-State, even though Illinois doesn't even give that award, and I think Ticklebass Ansell still wears his Amherst Baseball rain pullover whenever we set him up on a blind date with a deaf girl. Cornelius Merz, the only true athlete of the bunch, beat Michelle Wie on the links the day after her 5th birthday. Rivalfish and Umphrey's McGee are practically brothers.
There is one last linkage between my posse and the instrumentalists behind the
band that Rolling Stone called the most likely successor to Phish's "jam-smeared crown" that I yearn to prove: Everyone that has ever been affiliated with Rivalfish or related to anyone that has ever been affiliated with Rivalfish absolutely loathes all things Notre Dame. The mention of the Gold and Blue makes my dead grandmother pray for purgatory and my girlfriend puke in my trousers. I'm not even going to tell you what the thought of The Irish did to Ticklebass' parents' marriage.So do the boys of Umphrey's McGee concur with the views of the Rival Room's own? Are sportswriters and rock stars truly one in the same? Should I start prowling the backalleys of the Sunset Strip in search of a groupie slamhog? Joel, do you guys all despise Notre Dame?
"Mike, pretty much the entire band studied music at Notre Dame."
Fuck. I didn't want more brothers anyway. Especially older ones. My girlfriend's already wondering.
posted by Rival Room Editor at
12:05 AM
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