Freeball Goes to Spain
I played a really fun gig with my old friend Izzy Zaidman last weekend: he’s the guitar player from the now defunct speedmetal bluegrass extravaganza UncleFucker. After our set, we sat around catching up over a few beers, and he told me the funniest story about James, aka Freeball, Uncle Fucker’s drummer who still plays with Izzy in other projects.
I’ve written about Freeball’s misadventures before.
As I walked across the parking lot, i noticed the pool had gone silent, and figured Boogie and Jamiue had either left or were hanging out talking. I grabbed my shit from the van, and headed back. This time the silence was a little suspicious. I felt like Robin: it’s quiet batman…. too quiet. I passed by the pool and started up the stairs to our room, when i thought i saw what looked like a cop car. Casually, but quickly, I climbed the steps and crept along the balcony until i could see what was going on.
There they were: two cops, the night watchman, and James and Boogie standing there slump-shouldered in their sopping boxers. James was bowing his head, while Boogie was frenetically trying to explain everything to two skeptical police.
I’ll try to find a picture of James, but all you have to know is Art Carney’s as Ed Norton in the Honeymooners, both in terms of looks and overall competence.
“Spain has this great honky tonk scene,” Izzy was telling me. “Yeah, I know, who knew? So anyway, Todd gets us these gigs at some bars in Barcelona, and all we have to do is pay our way over and hotels, so it’s a no-brainer. Good times, y’know?
“We’d been in Spain for about a week, and were down in the subway waiting for the train, and there’s this newstand there. You know how it is in Europe: the porno mags are right there in the open. So Jamie starts leafing through one of them. You know how his eyes aren’t so good, so he’s really getting into it, reading the magazine like it’s a medical chart or something.”
“So the guy behind the counter tells Jamie to stop handling the merchandise, but of course James barely understands normal English, never mind Spanish! The guy’s totally yelling at him, but James just kinda looks up, grunts, and goes back to ogling naked ladies.
“So the guy yells at him again! ‘Mira! Escuchame! No se lee sin pagar, no se lee!!; [NB: Pardon my bad translation.]
“And again, James kinda looks at the guy but just ignores him and goes back to the naked chicks. I swear, it was like he’s Charlie Brown and the guy running the stand is the teacher saying “wah wah wah.
“So finally, the guy loses his temper, comes from around the back, grabs the magazine out of jamie’s paws and starts yelling at him. In Spanish. Which James doesn’t understand, so he’s got that confused look on his face.”
“Yeah, I know that look,” I say. “It’s probably the same one he had when he got arrested for riding his bike on the subway platform in NY and spent a week in the Tombs.”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Izzy says laughing.
“So the guy’s yelling and pointing at the magazine racks and the magazine, yelling in Spanish, and of course James wants to calm everything down. So he puts his hands up like he’s sayingOops, my bad and says “Ayy, buddy, amigo: RELAXO!”
James “Freeball” Musty: America’s Ambassador to the world.
