V is for Velvet Melon, Jay's Band

Once again, I’m using something that I wrote a while back. I was asked to do a short bio of Jay for his friend’s blog. Impossible! There’s too much to tell about my boy. But I tried to whittle his life down a bit and came up with some acceptable information . . . a mother’s memories. I included that writing in the book that I wrote about Jay last year, My Mom’s Always Hot!And the following is just a snippet of what I included. It sort of begins in the middle, but I think you’ll get the picture.

                                                            HIGH SCHOOL

Of course, I remember the night in January of 1985, when Joey Allred called Jay.  I was doing dishes, and I heard Jay say something about a band.  At that moment VELVET MELON was born.  Jay and Joey had a dream.  It came true every Saturday morning around 10:00 and went on for about four hours, letting up only for the guys to consume dozens of hot dogs. That was all I could afford to buy that whole bunch of boys who all looked and sounded alike to me.  Even though Joey and Jay together formed Velvet Melon, Jay was always in the lead.  I could hear him giving orders as I set out the food.  It’s so funny that a month before the band came into existence, Frank was spreaching about the ills of rock music, and I was shouting “Amen” to what he said.  According to Frank, that rock beat would mess up your heart.  I wonder.  Somehow, though, when our boy began to play and sing the “stuff,” it wasn’t quite so bad.  I was immediately in love with all that Jay did.  Frank, Wendy, and I were Jay’s #1 fans, and Steve, Wendy’s first husband, wasn’t far behind.  Naturally, certain gigs stand out more than others.  We went to all of them, except for the private parties, which, by the way, were usually broken up by the police, who were responding to the complaints of neighbors.  It’s probably a good thing that we weren’t invited to these gala events anyway because we might have seen some things that our tender eyes didn’t need to see yet.  The fact is we did see some things that we shouldn’t have; however, we thought it best to ignore some of them.  The gigs that I enjoyed most were those at Pine Forest (sock hops, talent shows, even concerts). I can’t remember when they started to play in clubs, but it was probably after Jay was out of high school. But the clubs that I enjoyed most in the early days, whenever they were, were Longnecker’s and Fennegal’s. I never did care much for The Rex.

I enjoyed Jay’s high school days right along with him.  But on to later days . . .

AFTER  HIGH  SCHOOL / IN VELVET  MELON

I’ve already written about many of my memories of this time.  They were such good years.  It has occurred to me that I probably should say something here. None of my memories involve some of the “trouble” that middle schoolers and high school students sometimes get in to.  I found out in later years that we didn’t escape some of these “events”; we just didn’t know about them.  Even though we discovered later some of the things that Jay did and that we didn’t approve of, we were happy to know for sure that he was not involved in drugs.  It really is a miracle in the twentieth century and especially in the rock music circle for a person not to be involved in this aspect of the lives of young people.  I never feared that Jay would have anything to do with drugs. In fact, I can remember telling him that he might get in trouble because of his outspoken abhorrence of them. I feared that someone might slip something into a drink just to prove to him that he, too, would do drugs. That never happened.  Thank you, Lord!  That one line that he wrote in an original always comforted me: “I don’t mix drugs with rock and roll/I’ve got Jesus in my heart to save my soul.”  Isn’t that a wonderful line?  Wish he had felt the same way about beer!

There are far too many gigs for me to mention too many specifics.  Here are just a few:

The performance at The Bitter End in New York on the trip before the move . . .

Times at Longnecker’s . . . Suzy, Rick Holt, New Year’s Eve, taking my seniors in after the Senior Banquet . . . mentioning how good the band sounded one night and then getting the dreaded call about Keith’s accident just a few hours later.  By the way, remember that math and science teacher that Jay didn’t like?  She taught the kids CPR, and Jay used it on Keith that night.  Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

The beach house fiasco . . . We had just left when the balcony fell . . .

The French Quarter . . . spending two days snowed in in motor homes with nine kids in their twenties . . .

The gig on the riverboat . . . Jay got a bit sick when he looked out the window while they were playing.

The night at Coconut Bay just before he was going to let Keith go.  I kept looking around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Finally, I spotted him, do-rag on his head, huddled in fetal position off in a corner, obviously praying for help with his task.  How my heart hurt for him.  He knew what was best for his band, but Keith was his friend, and he couldn’t stand to hurt him.  So many times he said to me, “Please pray, Mom.  I’ve got to have help.”  And I prayed.  And he did, too.  I wonder how many people know that about  my boy.  A few do.

Many nights at various gigs when he grabbed me just as we were leaving to give me a big hug and a huge kiss . . . right there in front of everyone.  Not many young men honor their mothers in such a way.  In fact, I remember one morning last spring when he called me at school to register a complaint.  It seems that he had had it with us!  We would go to his gigs, sit through one set, and then leave . . . without telling him good-bye.  What greater compliment could a twenty-four-year-old son give his parents?  None, as far as I’m concerned.  Then there was the time that he called and Becky Mc answered the phone in the teachers’ work area.  He wanted to speak to me, but before she went to look for me, she told him that we were all burning up because the air conditioning wasn’t working properly. She said, “Your mom’s really hot.” His reply . . . “My mom’s always hot!”  Now, that’s a compliment, too!

Oh, and there was the night of October 31, 1987, when Velvet Melon played “Rebel Yell” for Wendy and “My Girl” for Corey.  Corey had just entered the world about four hours before the gig.  The guys were dressed in their costumes . . . Jay was the Punk Monk that year!  Everyone was so excited about their new little mascot.  Corey has truly been right up there with the #1 fans! So many times Jay has played songs for her while she was at gigs.  She was a light in his life.  He truly loved her.  He didn’t always know exactly what to do with her, but he loved her.  He learned from my mother not to “mash her head”!  That was always a great line, but you had to be there to understand, I’m afraid.

Probably the gig that will always be most memorable to me, though, is the one on the night of June 27, 1992, his last gig.  I wouldn’t take anything for that evening.  We were there at Yesterdays in Chattanooga, TN, from beginning to end.  We heard every lick, saw every wink, loved every minute of it.  He came and sat with us during one of the breaks – as he always did – and said, “You’ll never know the feeling.  The feeling of having them right in the palm of your hand!” He loved performing . . . leading the audience in whatever direction he wanted them to go.  Andy was right.  Jay had charisma . . . he still has it.  Witness the hordes of young people who are still drawn to our house.

And then the four days after that gig when we spent time in Jay’s home in Nashville.  I wouldn’t take anything for those days! The guys composed and recorded . . . I read . . . we (Jay, Frank, and I) shopped for a washer and dryer, and Jay and I acted crazy while Frank had to be serious with the saleslady, whom we invited to gigs in the Nashville area (she’ll never know what she missed) . . . my heart soared as I listened to Jay negotiate with Bill Puryear, an agent ready to sign  Velvet Melon . . . we ate out . . . Jay cooked breakfast for us . . . he ate my leftovers from the Chinese restaurant that he never had a chance to go to . . . I was “smitten” with vertigo (thank goodness) . . . I watched him leve for the last time, dressed in the outfit that we buried him in.  I thought as he left, “I can see why the girls love him.  He is SO cute!”  The rest is history.  

One thing that’s missing in these memories of Jay and Velvet Melon is the meaning of the title of the band and where it came from. It means absolutely nothing. The choosing of the name for the band has a little history, though. One night the guys were practicing at our house, still not having a name for the band. Jay’s girlfriend, Gina, called during practice, and the guys took a break so that Jay could chat for a while. As they were talking, Gina said, “I saw the funniest thing carved into the top of my desk today.” And what did she see? “Velvet Melon”! I’m sure it meant something to someone, but all it meant to Jay was that Velvet Melon would be the name of their band. “Thanks, Gina! You just named the band.” And he went back to the game room and announced the news to the guys. They loved it! Everyone did. And those who were regulars at gigs were Melonheads! They are Melonheads to this day.

Wendy took this photo a couple of years before Jay died. Jay's the one on the left. I'll bet you could have picked him out without my telling you!