The Essential Roy Jeans: tip jar, a microphone, a can of paint.
The quote above the wall:
“The
best sound you can get is in an intimate club room
where
you’ve got four walls and the sound just bounces.
That’s
the way this music is meant to be heard.”
–
Bob Dylan
"Tear
Down The
Walls”
Armando’s
Pulls The Plug
by
Jamie Jobb
Since my high school days
in 1960s Miami, I’ve been a very lucky guy as far as easy access to
great live music is concerned. Back then, my friends and I had The
Flick coffeehouse across from University of Miami, and The Gaslight
South, funky southern brother to the
original Gaslight Cafe
of Greenwich Village.
Folks like Fred
Neil, Gamble
Rogers, David Crosby, Joni Mitchell, John Sebastian, Tom Rush,
John Denver, Jimmy Buffett played those South Florida stages. We
could watch them work up close, Neil was a marvel on his
twelve-string.
Later, in school at
Gainesville, I hung out with several local musicians who played the
university’s rathskeller, not to mention front and back porches
around town. We knew we were extending a fine Southern tradition of
sonic hospitality in these home concerts.
After I left Florida for
California in 1970s, I entered another world of live musical
opportunity. In Marin County, I lived along a convenient cruise of
over a dozen music halls spaced about a half mile apart – from the
No Name Bar in Sausalito to Rancho Nicasio in West Marin. Then when
I moved to the East Bay I had more great choice between Freight and
Salvage in Berkeley and our local Musicians Coffeehouse up the hill
from my home near Mount Diablo.
Bands born in San
Francisco’s Summer of Love played together or in curious one-night
stands any day of the week live on stages all over Marin and the East
Bay in clubs that no longer exist: Knightsbridge,
The
Ark, The Barrel House, The Original
Trident, The Lion's Share (or
"The
Share"), Euphoria, Charles Van Dame, River City, Uncle
Charlie's, Ted's, Prince Charles Inn, Jean's Bit of Bohemia, The Blue
Rock, Edgewater, The
Cricket Club, Runway 5, San Rafael Union Hall, Black Oak, Old Mill
Saloon.
After
I moved to Martinez at the turn of the century, an odd storefront
called “Mama’s Mercantile” slowly developed into the coolest
night club I’d ever encountered. Mama’s certainly was the oddest business
on the planet. It had no proprietor, but locals knew he could be
found at the bar down on the corner, if you needed him. He sold only
one thing: golf clubs. Used and unsorted.
These
were displayed in large four-foot by four-foot cardboard boxes,
stuffed there in no particular order. Thousands of golf clubs! You
wondered if the owner hung out at driving ranges and collected all
the tossed sticks of frustrated duffers leaving the facilities in
disgust. Anyway, one day Mama’s was closed for good and something
new started to sprout in its place.
Hard
to tell what it was, though. In fact, the place seemed to change its
looks every time we walked by with our dog. Was it an art gallery?
A frame shop? An event and party space? Eventually the storefront
got a name – for the grandfather of the proprietor – and a sign
out front: Armando’s. The place remained a live house for
musicians for over fifteen years.
I
was so impressed by the shows coming out of the place that I produced
a No Budget Film about it: “Quoting Roy Jeans”.
To
make that motion picture, I vowed to spend no money – except for
tickets and tip jar, as anyone would do to help the musicians remain
working “professionals”. But we spent no money on travel or
rooms or meals or any staff. We didn’t shoot on film. Used our
own equipment. I got together with neighbors and we produced it all ourselves on YouTube. You may see
the whole thing here, although the “documentary” currently is
just the first four “takes”. A new fifth take will be added,
which includes the last weekend’s performances and demolition of
the venue’s walls …
We
attempted to structure the project around the obvious visual clues
that spoke to the spirit of the place. Roy Jeans, the emcee and a
local legend, makes his living as a house painter. So, as he says,
“I have a lot of paint.” Indeed, Armando’s was
distinguished by the unique colorings found on every surface inside
the club. So we broke down the interview into those obvious
surfaces: the chairs, the door, the stage, the walls, the pole and
the road. “The Road” is a local legend unto itself and that
story is told in Take
Four of the documentary.
Not
every music hall has a “pole”. Armando’s put its to good use.
Written on the side of the pole was this challenge to those on stage:
“I’ll know my song well before I sing it” – a line
lifted from the end of Bob Dylan’s “Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall”.
Anyone
who knows Roy knows where these colors originate. From cans of paint
he collects after a hard day’s work. Many cans have only a little
paint remaining and it’s best to use it than to lose it. So Roy
paints all the time, after work. He is a true “painter” who
knows art history.
Author's mirror-selfie:
Armando’s stage, the morning after the last performance
One Man's Ceiling
Is Another Man's Floor
An on-going dispute with the landlord was at the root of Roy’s decision to close Armondo’s. He had hoped to hold out until July, when his lease ran out. But the landlord, a son of the original landlord who entered the lease with Roy, lived upstairs and was constantly battling Jeans, so Roy called it quits on February 9 when The Sunday Paper, a rockNfunk band filled the house with raucous merriment before the place went silent.
Roy
allowed me to join him on Monday morning, February 10 to record the
House in situ before a demolition crew was to start
deconstructing the place. The best of those photos follow this
essay.
The
demolition itself was an incredible process to capture in camera,
with the walls deconstructed one poster at a time. Hundreds of
posters had been added over the years, and Roy wanted each one saved.
Indeed, he began Armando’s as an underground art spot with framing
and house parties. Many of his posters dated from that time.
Demolishing
Armando’s took over a week and involved several volunteers –
among them were Harlan Bailey, Thomas O’Brien, Chris
Bryan, Lynn Quinones, Steve Ricco Bono, Belinda
Godin, Daryl Schawel, Den Belicco, Gary Cockrell, Karen Stiles, Beate Bruhl, Eric Akeson, Brad Vicnair, Robert Perry
and Bryan Walker. A handful of others helped but did not autograph
the signup sheets, so we don’t know who they may be.
Also,
Roy said this morning that he expects to resurrect Armando’s soon
on-line, after he works out details. He’s aiming for something in
May featuring an East Bay duo. Jeans should announce his first
digital concert, a backyard affair for a special invited audience of
eight couples separated by proper social distancing.
Watch
for updates on the Armando’s website which is still active:
https://armandosmartinez.com/.
* * *
The
Morning After
a
photo essay
10 February 2020
10 February 2020
by
Jamie Jobb
The
Morning After: out of habit, Roy wipes down tables for last time
Mismatched multi-cultural
chairs will never fill this floor again
Backstage at Armando’s:
the Paint Department
The Chairs of Many Colors
piled up: for removal from The House
The Chairs of Many Colors
piled up: for removal from The House
The walls of Armando’s
had eyes, ears, noses, throats and banjos with legs …
The walls spoke backstage
– with run-on quotations
Every day something new
ended up on the walls of Armando’s
Paint brushes never
cleaned: artworks among themselves?
* * *
15 April 2020
(more photos to follow)
No
Show in the Window: Armando’s closing night reflects the end
The back door to the
bathroom: not a pretty sight
15 April 2020
(more photos to follow)
