G. Joe Lonely

ammerhead Rose Band is not blowing the roof off some joint in the Pacific Northwest, G. might be at home listening to Bach or Mendelssohn while making beautifully handcrafted coffee tables out of rare California Redwood Burl. His life, which once was as full of bumps, curves, and detours as any amusement park ride, is filled with seeming contradictions. He grew up in a log cabin village, not in Arkansas, Kentucky or Mississippi, but in New Jersey. An earnest peace activist and a flower child in the 1960s, he served nearly two years on a special task force roaming the Ho Chi Minh Trail during the peak of the Vietnam War. grew up in Rancocas Woods, New Jersey and the area has since been converted to a state park. Through his "college of hard knocks" experiences and a stint in "the joint," he's paid his dues in spades. During his incarceration, he became determined to change for the better and he came out not with a chip on his shoulder but eager to assume his responsibilities and to live life to the fullest. "Each day is a gift bringing its own special opportunities and rewards. Growing up in a broken home on the East Coast, "Hammerhead" seemed to be constantly getting into scrapes. "I ran with some baddies," he recalls. "I never had any evil intent, but with my energy and curiosity, I was always finding some kind of mischief." His parents were both avid jitterbug dancers and with the house centered around music, G. began writing jingles before he was in grade school. Then a painful separation between his parents brought more Blues into the house. "My mom listened to music that reflected her situation," he recalls. "It was soothing to her." However, his mother grew so exasperated with her spouse that she bought two one-way tickets to Riverside, California and boarded a bus with her son (where they stayed with relatives). The change gave his mom a much-needed respite and the youngster enjoyed the change of scenery. and his friends had a lucrative pastime: raiding the lush orange groves in sprawling Riverside County. He also started listening to Rhythm and Blues, particularly Ray Charles and Muddy Waters, and soon he was playing a bass guitar and singing. The 1960s British Invasion of Rock-Blues bands brought sounds that were new to California, but G. already had the Blues pulsing in his veins. While others were waxing their surfboards and grooving to the bubble-gum "let's go surfing," tunes by Jan & Dean and The Beach Boys that dominated the airwaves, G. was into a heavy Blues-Rock beat. His favorites included The Animals, The Rolling Stones, The Paul Butterfield Blues Band, and American artists such as Bo Diddley and Howlin' Wolf, who had been embraced in England. He counts Stephen Stills and Buddy Brown as other musical influences. He jammed with other street musicians, some of them now well-known. He remembers playing with a young pair of brothers, John and Tom Fogerty, who went on to form Creedence Clearwater Revival. John became a prolific and respected songwriter and music producer, but G. wasn't especially impressed. "At that time, it was just that there was so much other talent around. There was so much going on then, I didn't see the genius in him." He also became acquainted with the legendary John Mayall and Country Joe McDonald, of the Woodstock "fish cheer" fame. He persuaded his fellow band members to ditch the "surf's up" routine and start laying down Blues jams. When Jimi Hendrix, the Full-Tilt Boogie Band and others ushered in the psychedelic and power Blues wave, G. immersed himself in the music and the lifestyle. It was a time when the hippie and flower-child movement was at its peak-and G. was at the nexus: Haight-Ashbury, Berkeley, and San Francisco. The influence on his present heavy-edged style is unmistakable. "I'm not necessarily a classic Blues guy. If someone wants clean, classic Blues, I can do it, but if someone else wants Zep, they get that too. I like to use all the ammo a musician has in their arsenal." He also campaigned for liberal icons such as Jerry Brown and George McGovern and became a fixture in the counter-culture society. As singer and percussionist for a band called The Scarabs, he was kept in line by the bandleader, a paraplegic man named Joel. "Although his hands were badly atrophied, he could absolutely rip a harp up one side and down the other," G. "He was the happiest, most positive guy you could imagine. The entire band was "tough love" for me, which I needed at the time." To this day, G. still considers Joel one of the leading influences on his life, as well as his harp-playing style. At the same time, he also played as a front man for The Nightcrawlers, a Los Angeles Blues band that played mind-bending English-Blues fusion. With G.J.'s wailing amplified harp, The Nightcrawlers took second place one year in the city's legendary "battle of the bands." At the time, with the peace movement growing and the Vietnam War escalating, America seemed to be coming apart at the seams as protests on college campuses were an everyday occurrence. Torn between his music and peace activism and the call to duty, the free-spirited hippie musician felt as if he was caught in the crossfire when he entered the military in 1967. Deciding against moving to Canada as a conscientious objector, he served an extended tour of duty in Vietnam in covert military operations. He was following a family tradition as several decades earlier his father, a Ranger, took part in the D-Day Invasion at Normandy. "I love my country, but I don't always agree with it," he points out. "I did what I thought was the right thing for myself and didn't judge others who chose a different path." For more than 20 months during 1968, '69 and '70, G. and his Study and Observation Group (SOG), sometimes referred to as the "Dirty Tricks Boys", had the run of the country. "We worked hard and played hard," he says. "We didn't know what tomorrow would bring or if there would even be a tomorrow." The years passed almost in a blur, but he has many vivid memories and the Vietnam experience affected him profoundly. "The World War II vets came back as a unit in ships. They were with their buddies and had three weeks to deprogram. We came back pretty much alone and had only one or two days to adjust. I was still high on drugs and booze when I found myself in downtown Oakland. I was a mess." For all he'd been through, he was barely old enough to vote. Embracing his music and returning to college on the GI Bill, G. wrote his thesis, Plate Tectonics and Radioactive Elements Beneath the Earth's Crust, at the University of California, Berkeley. Although he excelled in school, he isolated himself from friends and family. Aware that something was wrong, he took biofeedback classes and studied self-hypnosis and Transcendental Meditation to help him heal and regroup. He rededicated himself to a number of grass roots environmental movements and also served on a Native American Tribal Council and continued advocating for human rights. But, he also dabbled in drugs and had the misfortune to be busted at a time when California had some of the toughest sentencing guidelines in the nation. was released early for good behavior and served less than two years. It seemed longer, much longer to him. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was forced to harness his huge reservoir of energy and to become truly introspective. "The absence of love is as close to hell as you can get," he says. The separation from his family was the worst part. With time heavy on his hands, he wrote songs and became determined to take charge of his life. "I did wrong, I never denied it, but it seemed like I was the only guilty person in there." Hooking up with a popular power-Blues band in the area, The Lizard Kings, G. served as front man one night and as a sideman the next, and he also set up the sound equipment. During the day, he and the other band members worked together on a construction crew and built expensive homes in Northern California's lush Marin County. It was a happy time. "Beer at lunch was not forbidden," he says with a laugh. He also began playing out of town and developing his solo act. He explored Country music, particularly the Hank Williams genre. His step-father, Andy, who'd long performed as a one-man Polka-band, helped him develop the skills and confidence to sing, play harp and rhythm and percussion, and most important, to entertain a crowd under unusual and trying circumstances. Migrating north, he began appearing at gigs throughout Oregon, Washington and Idaho. In Portland, he formed his own band, Pipin' Hot, as well as the Hammerhead Rose Band. He first jammed with Robbie Laws at the Trail's End Saloon in Oregon City, in 1998. Since then, he's also played with the Blues Broads, Tom Varley and The Sundogs, the Never Never Band, and many others. One of G.J.'s goals is to found an annual music benefit for the Montagnard people, an indigenous and nomadic mountain people of Southeastern Asia who fought side by side with American soldiers. The Montagnards, who have no written history, were granted asylum to America in very small numbers and exist in scattered ethnic enclaves. Their wartime service to the U.S. is largely forgotten, except by the Americans who served alongside them. G.J.'s core home band, which plays mostly to Portland-area audiences, consists of Brian "Java Man" Jones on vocals and guitar, John "The Rock" Sugg on drums, and Pascal Portier on bass and vocals. His touring and recording band consists of Keith Brewer on lead vocals and rhythm guitar, Steve Bortner on bass, James White on lead guitar, and Jerry Hands, who played with Blue Oyster Cult, on drums. White, one of his closest friends, played with the Little River Band, Emmylou Harris, and has also performed with Elvis Presley's old band. "I've never seen anyone with the interpretive guitar playing talents of James," G. "These cats are all excellent musicians. They're a really well seasoned bunch of guys and we have a great time together." With two CDs to be released this year, Control Burn and Back from Vietnam Blues, G. continues developing his eclectic solo act Blues Cruise, which, depending on his mood, can include Elvis Presley tunes, as well as Hank Williams, Garth Brooks and other up-tempo Country songs. He's also trying to find ways to combine his love of music with his activism regarding veterans' affairs. "Music is my drug," says G. J., who writes his own songs and prefers the freedom which goes with staying on an independent label. "Playing live is real juice and I love the studio too, but that's a different trip." G.J., who's played several times at the Cascade Blues Association's membership meetings at the Melody Ballroom, is considering a tour of Australia and New Zealand sometime soon. He is always excited about playing his brand of raucous and kinetic Rhythm and Blues. "I think the greatest thing anyone can do with their life is to serve and music is a great form of service." Oh, by the way, what does G. " It stands for Go Joe," he laughs. Then turning serious, he asks for one favor: "Please tell everybody: don't forget the veterans."