Audio By Carbonatix
J. Paul Slavens holds his stoic composure as he takes a seat
behind his Casio keyboard for his weekly residency at Dan’s
Sliverleaf. After taking a nip from his whiskey and water on the
rocks, Slavens leans closer to the microphone and starts crunching.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
The slow, rumbling echo seems to signal Slavens’ personality shift;
it’s like witnessing that moment when Mister Rogers pauses to
change his cardigans and sneakers.
“I definitely put on a bit of a persona onstage,” Slavens says later
about the evening’s performance. “And maybe the Paul that appears up
onstage is a little more coarse and cantankerous than the real Paul. He
has more of a combative mindset and definitely a more coarse sense of
humor.”
“Onstage” Paul’s coarseness of humor—paired with his talent
for impromptu songwriting and the audience’s hunger for a bawdy
tune—gives this weekly Monday night show the feel of an
after-hours, adults-only Prairie Home Companion: The audience
makes up a song title, writes it on a bar napkin and places the napkin,
along with a tip, on Slavens’ Casio. The larger the tip, the sooner the
song gets played.
But does the band get paid?
“Oh! Hell, no! They don’t get paid,” Slavens says before launching
into his band’s famed “Two Rules.” “It’s simple,” he continues.
“There’s only two rules to be in the band: You don’t get paid, and
don’t piss me off.”
And this is a relationship that’s worked every week since 2006 (the
actual date is “kinda whiskey-soaked” according to Slavens). He doesn’t
worry about whether the band will show up on time. He doesn’t have to
call to remind them. There’s never a need to practice. Slavens says
it’s the fulfillment of a “dream” he had a few years back: “After being
in a band [Ten Hands] where there were rehearsals, I
wanted a gig where I could play all new material or show up and play it
all impromptu, and a band that could do either one with me.”
Like any job, Slavens admits that, at times, the gig can be
“exhausting.” We all have “off” days at work. That works fine for some
jobs. But what if Monday night rolls around and Slavens isn’t feeling
creative—or, maybe worse, funny?
“That’s very interesting,” he says. “Because, like anybody else, I
have my troubles in life and I’ve showed up for that gig in dire
emotional straits. I’ve even considered canceling gigs before, but I’ve
found that once I get there and get going, it cures me of whatever is
ailing. It’s a release for me. A stream-of-consciousness release of all
the stuff that you didn’t even know you had in you.”
And you thought he was just making up naughty songs for money.
