From: Michael Shrieve
Subject: Re: Rattlesnake Shake

Well Fuck, God Bless you for caring enough about the music to really seek it out.

Peter was a friend of mine back in the 70’s. Sometimes, when I was on tour with Santana, which was always, and Peter was in the Bay Area, I’d loan him my house in Mill Valley. Of course you could stay there, Peter. I’d call him from the road and check in. Is everything OK?  "Everything’s great, mate".

So tonight, right now, I’m back from my weekly gig, which I’ve been doing for four years in Seattle, with my band, Michael Shrieve’s Spellbinder. It’s an instrumental band, but cool as shit, and we get the whole range of age groups at every show. Here’s the truth. I make $60.00 every Monday night; $30 of which I pay to a friend to set up and take down my drums. I don’t enjoy that part of it, so it’s worth it to me. So I make $30.00. The people love the music, and I know why. It’s real musicians, playing passionate, beautiful music right in front of there eyes. Exceptional musicians, truly.

You want to know my reality? This year alone I have been voted one of the top 50 drummers of All Time in Drum Magazine, and been voted in the Top Ten in a Reader’s Poll in Rolling Stone Magazine two months ago of Best Drummers of All Time. Of course, you should know, no real musician considers these accolades as something serious, because the real players know that there there is always someone better than you. But that is not to say that we are not grateful for the recognition. But that and a buck fifty will get you on the bus.

If I told you how many Booking Agents I have contacted all around the world to consider booking my band you would be shocked. If I told you how many of them have had the decency to even reply to my emails, you would be even more shocked.

I ask myself, WTF? Why do I bother with this shit? I love music, like the heart that beats inside me, but is this worth it? And I have come to the conclusion that no, it is not worth it. I must find another way to make a living. I should build on what I have, and I have ideas, but it is so completely different than what I had imagined.

I didn’t mean to rant, but it here I go. I love the vibe of that music that you posted, like I used to love Michael Bloomfield with Paul Butterfield and those extended jams like "East West". I still love that shit. But I insist with my band that we are not a jam band, that we play tighter arrangements than other bands. Everybody jams now, but it better be fucking great because frankly I’m tired of hearing 10 minute guitar solos.

Back to Peter. Part of our connection, aside from the fact that with Santana, I recorded his song "Black Magic Woman" and made it more famous than he would ever imagine, we shared that Black Magic Woman, and her name was Annie, and she was truly remarkable, and mystical, and nurturing, as were a few very special ladies in that time and place. It was a very special time.

Years later, when Santana was being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, along with Fleetwood Mac on the same evening, Carlos was gracious enough to invite Peter Green to play "Black Magic Woman" with us, as it became obvious that Fleetwood Mac was not going to have Peter Green be a part of their ceremony. Shame on them. Peter was a shadow of himself then, and barely remembered me. It was sad, for sure, but he was there with us on the stage  playing his song that we made famous. And that night The Eagles were also inducted, as was Fleetwood Mac, and I saw the road kill of what was the leftovers of that fiasco as well. The tears in the eyes of the wives of the members of the band that left or were kicked out, and finally seeing their embittered husbands getting a shred of recognition for the work they put into the band that became so famous, the few that survived shined and the rest are road kill. It’s not a pretty picture.

God Bless the musician that has his own, I always thought.

But now, even I’m not so sure of that. I always told myself when I younger, watching older musicians becoming embittered, don’t ever become bitter, that serves no one. I remember telling Mitch Mitchell, who was so bitter because truly, he got so screwed financially with all the Hendrix stuff, "Mitch, forget about it. What you’ve done, no one can ever take that away from you. Your contribution is so enormous, anyone would trade places with you. Forget about the money, forget about the lawyers, I said. Go back to that place where you first loved music, go play in a club every week like I do, and forget about everything else, and trust me, the music will set you free, like it did in the beginning.

But man……

With Respect,

Michael Shrieve