Alabao-This is what George Martin (The Beatles) told me.

Here's the second review that didn't make it to the Famous web site....because it's not the usual funny way I write. And the reason for that, is that the story is true.
In the mid 70's, I played bass in an English band called Curved Air. The drummer was Stewart Copeland of The Police. We were big time and I was brought in on the 5th album. The band was big, everywhere in the world, except the U.S.
In 1974, we were mixing the "Live" album at "Air" studios on London. George Martin (long time producer of the Beatles) owned the studio. At that time, it had only two studios. We were in one. And Pete Townshend was next door mixing the soundtrack to the movie "Tommy."
Martin would hang out quite a bit...for a spot of tea. After a couple weeks, I finally broached the subject and asked for a story about what a recording session with the Beatles was like. I cringed and waited for the slap on the head that didn't come. This is the honest to God true story he told me. Obviously, the only thing not true is that I've weaved a cigar review into the story. But a true story about the Beatles was not deemed sufficient for Famous' audience. And remember, Katmancross is debonair, a time traveler, and coolest dude on the planet.
Enjoy!

ALABAO CIGARS

I sat down with George Martin at his home in Cardiff, Wales. It was high tea and we were enjoying a stout and some biscuits.
We were smoking cigars of all kinds. George was in the habit of smoking Cubans but I had brought with me some Central American sticks for him to try.
“So, George, buddy....I know you've been asked this a million times, but when the Beatles fell apart, were you in the middle of the muddle?

“Yes. I heard most of it. In the studio at least. There was one time John was so pissed off at Paul, he tuned all of his basses down a quarter note before a recording. At that same time, Paul was licking every pick in John's arsenal. At one point, he ran out of saliva, and Derek had to pour warm water over his lips. To make it special, Paul was chewing on a hunk of lard while he licked the picks.

“They began to play and picks flew out of John's hands like he was dealing poker. And Paul kept yelling at John to re-tune his guitar. John told him it was he that was out of tune, so Paul kept grabbing new basses and none were in tune.
He went nuts trying to figure out what was going on. Ringo walked in and was completely drunk. He saw the mounting picks on the floor and began to pick them up. On the third bend, he tore his pants in the seam. So he got down on his knees and crawled around the studio scooping up picks and then they flew out of his hand from the lard. Meanwhile, John was going through dozens of picks as they sprayed across the room.

George Harrison walked in and looked at the madness and started chanting Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Hare Hare, Gurur Brahma, Gurur Vishnu over and over again. The loyal mates of the band got on all fours trying to pick up picks but ended up shooting them at each other and then it became a pick fight.

Paul went nuts trying to figure out what was wrong with his basses. So as he got up, a pick hit him squarely in the eye and he screeched in pain. George began chanting even louder. Paul was rubbing his eye when he got a double shot into the other eye. John got up from his chair and threw the whole bag of picks into the air. A hundred picks lay everywhere and poor Ringo kept sliding and slipping on the greasy picks.

Each time he tried to stand up, he was so drunk, that his legs wobbled. He pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels from his coat and took a slug. John grabbed it from him and took a big gulp. John then went over to Paul and said, “Here Pauly.” And he poured some whiskey into his eye. “That should sterilize the bugger.”
Paul screamed in pain, slipped and was going down when he swung at John but missed and hit Ringo right in the balls. George stopped chanting and grabbed the Jack. He took a huge slug and, “Hare Krishna, Hare Hare...”
“Ringo was rolling on the floor in pain grabbing his own balls. Mal slipped on the picks and went down but not before his leg went straight in the air and kicked Ringo one more time in the balls as he went down.
Ringo couldn't breathe. Paul got up and swung again at John. This time, he connected to the jaw and John took it like a man. He gave Paul the Moe... two fingers in the eye routine. Paul screamed, fell backwards on to the drum kit. The high hat stand fell directly on, you guessed it, Ringo's balls. Now Ringo was puking from the testicle anguish and from the alcohol.

Paul and John stood toe to toe. John took a huge slug of Jack and Paul pulled it away. Paul downed an even bigger swallow. People were tripping over the picks like a slapstick comedy. Paul grabbed an egg sausage ball and shoved it in John's mouth and poured Jack in right after. John spewed the mess into Paul's face. Paul wiped the mess off and looked down at Ringo puking and he started to puke. John saw that and he started to puke.

George still stood in the corner facing away from everybody, “Hare Hare...”
Now all of the roadies, not only were slipping in lard picks, but puke spread everywhere. And then they got sick.

Things got so crazy that at one point, everyone was flat on their backs on the floor breathing heavy.”
George M said, “I sat in the control room and just watched. It was better than The Goon Show.”

I felt winded as he finished the story and I brought out an Alabao cigar made by Nick Perdomo for Famous.
At first light, I tasted cedar and a mild sweet tobacco flavor. Very mild. Huge billows of white smoke emitted from the end. As I smoked, I could taste coffee bean and cocoa. The sweet spice stayed with me. But at the half way point, it became more medium in body while the flavors began to spread out.
I remembered that the filler and binder were made of the finest Nicaraguan tobacco. And the best part was the Criollo wrapper. Always tangy.
I love it when a cigar provides a creaminess to the back of the mouth. Like suckling on mother's milk.The stick portrayed some hint of nuts...almonds and cashews...with that creaminess swirling around it.
As the cigar wound down, it ramped up in flavor and strength but never getting harsh or hot. The sweet spice and nuts kicked in big time. I smoked it to the nub.

[68TriShield]

lol,I can just picture it happening

I should add proof of my claim.
Go to www.curvedair.com
Click on "alumni"
Click on my name: Phil Kohn
Or just google my name followed by the word "bass" This is probably easier

[CasaDooley]

Funny chit!
And very cool band info!

Originally Posted by CasaDooley

Funny chit!
And very cool band info!

Thanks, Kevin

Before I lose all my friends and their goodwill....I need to explain these reviews/stories.
I know, I know.....these are not 1-2-3-bottom line reviews. I'm a funny guy. Famous liked the little blurb reviews I did on their web site if I liked a cigar. They had been looking for someone to do what I do. Here's the rub...I have a 750 word limit. That's 1-1/2 typed pages to develop Act 1, Act 2, and Act 3 plus get some kind of review in there. Try it. It's a b***h.
They wanted my character to be just short of a super hero. The coolest dude around. A time traveler. Indiana Jones is jealous of him. Mystical. But not a cartoon character. Again, try it.
I lived through the 1960's as a teenager. I loved the underground comics of the day. I loved the Marx Brothers and Woody Allen (when he was funny).
I'm a really sick writer but I have to reign it in big time. I have to hit a home run right down center field. Don't say hookers. Don't say this. Don't be gory. Even if it's all in fun.
I was told that that using bin Laden in a story could be Muslim bashing. ??
So please forgive me if the stories are silly. You need to have just finished your six pack when you read these. And just laugh because it's so stupid.
If I write a proper cigar review, which I can, there's no room for a story. So I have to balance everything like a blind juggler.
I'm doing something that no one with any integrity would be doing, at age 60, when it comes to cigars. Gimmee' a break. I'm living in a basement with my wife. We get $76 in food stamps. I have no money for cigars. And the cigar company gives me cigars for what I do.
As a result of this silly job, someone has offered me another writing job this week. And more may be coming in.
So don't hate me because you don't like the stories or the reviews...hate me because I'm fat and have bad breath.
Thanks.

[14holestogie]

I don't hate you soooo much, Phil.

Keep on keeping on. Here's hoping things work out for you with the new gig.
In the words of one of our 60's icons, "you can't please everyone, so you've got to please yourself." Always loved the sentiment so eloquently stated.

[BSB]

Hate the Beatles, love your reviews

[shilala]

Hehe. Go brush your teef, chunky style.

Originally Posted by BSB

Hate the Beatles, love your reviews

Hate the Beatles????

(Clutching my chest)......ooooooohhhhhh Gawd........(taking last breath).....

Thanks!

[justonemorestick]

I am not sure about being a blind juggler if you are thinking about making a career change, I wouldn't recommend juggling axes otherwise you might have to spend hours explaining how you got the nickname "Hatch" or the mark on your forehead.

Originally Posted by justonemorestick

I am not sure about being a blind juggler if you are thinking about making a career change, I wouldn't recommend juggling axes otherwise you might have to spend hours explaining how you got the nickname "Hatch" or the mark on your forehead.

Thank you, Warren. First time I laughed out loud all day. I'm still laughing.
You so funny!

[The Poet]

Originally Posted by BSB

Hate the Beatles, love your reviews

Yeah, the Beatles are nearly as bad as sex, or chocolate. Everybody hates them.



Which is my way of saying . . .

Originally Posted by The Poet

Yeah, the Beatles are nearly as bad as sex, or chocolate. Everybody hates them.



Which is my way of saying . . .

Thomas,
You almost gave me chest pains.
I love the Beatles.
Since I grew up in that era, there was nothing like waiting for a new album to be released. Albums would go out to radio stations with the caveat that no music could be played until Capitol Records or Apple gave the go ahead. DJ's that tried to pull a fast one, got fired.


My first bass was a Hofner in 1965. I was sooooo cooool.