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Pools Ponds Etc
Distance: 26.0 Mi3307 Burgess Falls Road
38506 Cookeville -
Kenneth Jones Company, Inc
Distance: 14.5 Mi600 Hawkins Rd
38583-7152 Sparta -
Life Planning TN
Distance: 23.4 Mi2201 Ditty Road
38506 Cookeville -
Isha Institute of Inner-sciences
Distance: 11.5 Mi951 Isha Lane
37110 McMinnville -
Bond Cleaning Toowoomba
Distance: 5.9 MiToowoomba Southeastern Qld Australia
4350 Quebeck
Description
August 2000 – Dallas, Texas. The band Sandwich, featuring guitarist Jeff Quay, drummer Chad Jenkins, bassist/new recruit Rob Clark and a vocalist who will remain anonymous, was playing quirky, Weezer-esque rock, and beginning to gain notice. The stage was set for their emergence from anonymity, as the hype surrounding a showcase at the Atlantis Music Conference was building. The performance got off to a picture-perfect start, which then suddenly in the blink of an eye went down the proverbial drain. As the set hit its midway point, Quay turned to tune, Clark leaned to wipe sweat from his brow, Jenkins took a pull from a water bottle and the anonymous singer told the crowd to shut up – he’s gonna tell a joke. As he began to tell the infamous “joke”, “I reached to stop him and he pushed me back,” recalls Quay. Two minutes later, he reckons, a packed Hard Rock Café in Atlanta emptied like an old dog’s bladder. Clark reminisces, “I knew then we had blown our shot. To this day, we have no idea what the joke was, but he managed to offend women, men, races any group you could possibly offend in one blink of an eye. The last thing I remember before my mind went blank was this girl going, ‘You’re gross’.” A parade of vocalists auditioned, yet none seemed to fit. Then, one night Clark followed up on a tip and caught singer-songwriter Colin Hill’s acoustic set at The Flying Saucer in Dallas. After two songs, and without asking Quay or Jenkins, he offered Hill the job. The singer asked for a demo-tape and time to consider the opportunity. A few weeks later, Hill came to a Sandwich rehearsal under the impression it was simply a meeting. He remembers, “As the introductions and pleasantries passed, they started playing, and I realized this was an audition. I hadn’t even learned their music, since I was tied up with my own CD release. I panicked, and simply faked my way through three songs until they got to the tune “Seed,” which I knew some of the lyrics to.” According to Quay, “We knew Colin was right for the band that moment when he performed “Seed” for the first time. He had the perfect voice for it and the other songs. Simply, meeting Colin was destiny.” The band, then renamed Lee Harvey Osmond, went right into rehearsals, and had close to thirteen songs nailed in three weeks. As they took the stage for their first gig, Hill recalls, “It was the most frightening experience of my life, but I got through it real well. Now, three name changes and one hit song later, here we are with Wind-up.” Wait a second…hit song? Prior to Hill’s arrival, he was performing covers five or six nights a week and drawing well. He recalls, “One night I played [Material Issue's] “Everything” and got a huge response; so much so that for the next three years I had to play it three or four times a night.” Quay dug it and included the tune on a cassette for WCPR (Biloxi) Operations Director Kenny Vest, who promptly offered to manage the band and began spinning the tune. He advised them, “This is a hit song. You got to put this out and see what happens.