"I once played an entire night waiting on my girlfriend's pregnancy test. Then, the next night, we had these menacing biker dudes come in just before the last set and sit down right in front of the stage, eyeing our equipment just before the last set. We all ran out back to this big junk pile and stocked up on boards with nails in them, pipes, shards of glass, etc. We brought it all inside and stashed it behind our amps so we'd be ready. Somebody called the police, and the owner, who was blind drunk, comes out waving around a .38 and slurring his words, saying "I got the situation under control." "A few days later, we were the first ones on the scene of an accident. The guy I tended to had been thrown back up onto the road and had landed on his head and gotten his leg all twisted in the guardrail; his foot was facing the wrong way. He was in shock and partly conscious, and we had to hold him down to keep him from moving in case there was any spinal damage. He kept trying to turn over, and his leg made this sick crackling sound that I can still hear to this day."? "Then our van died in some mountains somewhere. We called for help and all these characters in jeeps, pickups, a tractor - anything they could get their hands on - came racing up the mountain to save us, like "Mad Maxx" meets "Deliverance" or something. On the way down, the keyboard player and I sat on top of our equipment to hold it down, swaying back and forth, about fifteen feet off the ground in the back of a hay truck. It all proved too much for our drummer, who whacked his girlfriend in the head with a flashlight, then stole the bass player's car and drove off. He was fired the next day.' "That was my first month in the music business. I was approaching my sixteenth birthday." - Jefferson Thomas *** Your earliest memories are of a nightly ritual, played over and over again, ten thousand times. Waking up just before dawn to the old man's headlights shining in your bedroom window. The familiar bang of a guitar amp slamming against the front door, followed by a reassuring string of four-letter words. Good. He made it home again. You drift back off to sleep, only to be awakened just a few hours later by your mother, who is a singer. You smell coffee and you hear the stereo roaring to life, beckoning you into a world with never enough money, but more wealth than anyone could imagine. Some kids might be able to fight the currents of such a childhood, but by his eleventh birthday, Thomas had thrown up his hands and surrendered, sitting in on bass for the old man's gigs. Within a year the kid had switched to guitar and was writing his own songs. At fifteen he was playing clubs, fairs, and festivals all over the northeastern US, and soon after he was bringing his unique blend of rock, pop, and alt-country to audiences all over the U.S. Jefferson spent 2006 touring to support 2005's Come Alive, and literally played across America, from California to New York, both solo shows and with his band. The tour culminated in a series of shows in New York City's Central Park, and various stops along the way comprised his 2007 effort, Jefferson Thomas Live. Another cross-counry grind to support that release followed in 2007, and before the bags were even unpacked, Jefferson dove back into the studio to put together the upcoming Western Front, due in March 2008.??Jefferson returns to Central Park and the road and this spring. Don't miss out!
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