A Pork Tornado rips through Hollywood November 16, 2002 - Crazewire (Hollywood) by Forrest Reda Halloween weekend was a busy affair in LaLa land with The String Cheese Incident, The Strokes and Pork Tornado performing on consecutive days. Even Perry Farrell would have a hard time spending three days differently in Los Angeles. Lecture me later about not following the SCI circus to Vegas, but that can be a dangerous drive if you have bills to pay, and Roctober was a hell of a month for live music. With New Year's just around the corner, the belt needs to be tightened. Sacrifices must be made. The Strokes was a lingering curiosity. I had to do it. I hated Last Night when I first heard it, decrying the song as a blatant rip off of Tom Petty's American Girl. However, I've grown to realize that it is better for updated classic rock to be popular among the high school / college crowd instead of say, N'Sync or Puff Daddy. I had a great time at the show, but it made me appreciate quality musicianship over style even more. Which brings us to the main course, Pork Tornado. Knowing that I was going to see a bar band from Vermont on the Sunset Strip, I wasn't wearing my journalist hat. For the other Phish side projects, from Oysterhead to Vida Blue, a night of new and creative music was expected. For Pork Tornado, I just wanted to have a good time. There are a few essential elements to a good bar band. High energy, classic cover songs and good musicianship. Pork Tornado does all this and got the crowd jumping early and long into the night with two sets and an encore of booty shaking rock 'n roll. In addition to Fish, the band is comprised of guitarist Danny Archer, saxophonist Joe Moore, bassist Aaron Hersey and keyboardist Phil Abair. Everyone sings well, and they have complete command of their instruments. It's obvious they've done this for years. Watching Fishman within spitting distance, flailing away at his drums, each limb moving independently at hyper drive, is something I've had the pleasure of enjoying two other times since fall 2000, first with the Jacque Imo All Stars at JazzFest and then with the Jazz Mandolin Project at the HOB on the Sunset strip. Despite the other nights being amazing, Pork Tornado was the most fun. It might have been the slew of cover songs, ranging from The Slicker's (Johnny Too Bad) to several songs by Frank Zappa. I'm horrible with Zappa names, and the aging hippie next to me wasn't too sure either, but I bet they are on the new Rykodisc compilation, "Zappa Picks by Jon Fishman." Fishman's stage banter also made the intimate night a blast. Before the last song of the first set, he said that the band was going to take a quick break and then come back and play Kiss My Black Ass for 45 minutes. He also mentioned that CD's were available over at the merch table (when was the last time Fishman had to say that?) and that they featured artwork censored by Elektra. Many people are predominately distracted by going to the movies in Los Angeles, a fact not lost on Pork Tornado as the band performed a killer 'Quentin Tarantino movie' trilogy of songs throughout the night; Hooked on a Feeling (From Reservoir Dogs by Blue Swede) Stuck in the Middle With You (From Reservoir Dogs by Stealers Wheel) and Jungle Boogie (From Pulp Fiction by Kool & the Gang). Pork Tornado's originals were good too; Archer's vocals on Guabi Guabi were particularly nice as was Moore's energy during Kiss My Black Ass, which featured a strip tease that showed off nearly all of Moore's 'equipment.' All these guys look like players you would see in an east coast bar; Abair was even wearing a Late Night with David Letterman shirt. His ode to the road, Home is Where You Are, featured a Nashville sound. My partner in crime is the kind of girl who flashes from the front row at JazzFest, becomes best friends with strangers at every show we attend and winds up getting on stage or backstage more than half the time. She's a party girl. I was on road with slackstring when the Disco Biscuits were at the HOB, and she called me from backstage. "Don't worry honey, there's a ton of girls backstage that the guys are more interested in. Their tour manager is going to drive me home later, my ride left." Whether he knew that he was driving an hour from Hollywood to Malibu is irrelevant but the funny thing is that he passed out on our couch, slept until 5 p.m. the next day and was woken up by my younger brother who said, "dude, I think your band is playing tonight in Solana Beach (two hours south)." Why would Pork Tornado be an exception? As I came back from getting drinks for the encore, there she was, dancing on stage. A few other girls joined her and danced in front, but she remained in the back, dancing next to Fishman. I guess the other girls didn't realize who was behind the drums. After the show ended, she gave Fish a big hug and kiss and followed him backstage. "Just like that," I mused. "It's gotta be nice." I went outside and waited on the corner, watching the crowd disperse onto the street. A block down, the crowd from the Key Club, where the Cramps performed, was also getting out, and the usual scene was developing at the Rainbow Bar and Grill. Pork Tornado's tour bus was parked on Sunset Blvd., and soon enough my girl came out, carrying Danny's guitar. She gave me a wave and I walked over and met Danny. "Come on board and have a beer," he smiled, in the same drawl he had sang with all night. I hopped on, met Dominic (the same guy who drives Phish around), the rest of the band, sans Fish, and took a seat. After getting a quick bus tour, a lack of beer of was discovered and I volunteered to make a supply run. When I got back, Fishman was on board. He was getting ready to lie down for the trip back to the hotel, but he gave me a handshake, a smile, his trademark laug and said. "hey, nice to meet you!" My girlfriend was smiling ear-to-ear, "He showed me his pictures of his baby! She's so cute!" Fish described his 10-month-old daughter to her as, "A 22-pound version of me." We cruised the Sunset Strip, drinking Heineken's and talking about anything but Phish. Our conversations about the power of music, mojo and life in general were interesting enough. I wasn't acting the role of a journalist, I was just hanging out. Sunset traffic is a bitch, especially in a tour bus, but we didn't care a single bit, even if we were destined to take a cab back to retrieve my car. NYE tickets weren't our goal; we just wanted to hang out and talk music. With no expectations, we enjoyed our experience of simply being on the bus. When sacrifices are made for music, the details just have a way of working out.