Originally published in Rave-Up #12 (1987)
Story by Devorah Ostrov
Story by Devorah Ostrov
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| (L-R) Jim and Mark Morris Photos: Devorah Ostrov |
"Hello!" Jim Morris, guitarist and one of the three brothers that comprise Balaam & the Angel, was the first to greet my friend and I in the hotel lobby. He was wearing the same stripped t-shirt and jeans from the previous day and bounding through the posh lobby barefoot.
We decided that eating was the first order of the day, so Jim escorted us to the hotel's restaurant — where he was curtly turned away and sternly told "put on some shoes!"
Shortly afterwards Jim returned properly attired, and we were joined by Mark (vocalist), Des (drummer), Allie from the road crew, and Chris, the road manager. Over our breakfast of curry and tea we laid out our plans for the day. The local Harley shop was a must, as was Shades. But first there was business to take care of: an interview had been set up that afternoon at KUSF.
In the meantime, Jim filled us in on how their shows with the Mission UK were going. "We were expecting to come here and get no reaction at all," he said. "It's going really well, though. There's always at least a handful of people at the shows who know something about us."
Mark also had a few comments — or rather, a few choice words — about groupies: "I'm so sick of it! They just try to use us to meet the Mission. The Mission won't let them into their dressing room, so they come into ours and then ask if we can get them into the Mission's dressing room."
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| Jim Morris - onstage at Wolfgang's San Francisco, May 1987 Photo: Devorah Ostrov |
Before we knew it, it was time to leave for KUSF. The group gathered in the lobby, grumbling and griping about breaking up their day with an interview. "I tried to cancel," offered Chris. "I told them you wanted to go sightseeing and shopping but there was no way out of it."
"That's why we're over here," added Jim, always the practical one, "for publicity."
Thus cajoled, the band, Allie, Chris, the two of us and all the luggage were loaded into the van and off we went.
"It'll only take half an hour at most," said their record company rep, as Jim and Mark followed him up to the radio station. Des chose to stay behind with us for a drive around SF taking in such tourist highlights as Charles Manson's old house, a drive down Lombard Street ("Is that it?" Des was disappointed) and a glimpse of Alcatraz.
Returning to collect Jim and Mark, who had been joined by a KUSF DJ, we found that our plans had once again been postponed.
First it was a quick trip to Reckless Records to say "Hi!" and shake some hands, and then a drive up Haight Street. The DJ amicably pointed out that it was the "famous Haight Ashbury area."
"What's that?" asked Mark. He really had no idea what the guy was talking about.
Those of us who had not been at the interview were finally informed that we were looking for a gelato ice cream shop. This was the last straw for Des. "Why the hell are we looking for an ice cream shop!?" he demanded.
"Because they're giving us free ice cream," Mark shouted back.
"Who cares!?" screamed Des.
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| Mark and Des Morris somewhere on the road Photo: Devorah Ostrov |
This seemed to bring everyone back to their senses and it was quickly decided that nobody actually wanted gelato ice cream. The DJ was unceremoniously dropped off near the Panhandle.
Then it was off to the Harley shop! Once inside, the boy's eyes lit up like kids in a candy store. Hard earned tour money was laid out for t-shirts, bandanas, belt buckles, and even a leather jacket (for Chris). Eyeing an especially beautiful bike — with a price tag of $10,000 — Mark even began to count the number of shows it would take for him to buy it and vowed to someday return for it.
A quick stop around the corner at Shades completed the shopping spree and it was off to that night's gig at One Step Beyond. Driving down 101, we arrived in Santa Clara 45 minutes later with the hotel for the night clearly visible from the freeway (which was lucky as no one had asked for directions).
Chris, briefcase in hand, looking every bit the rock 'n' roll tour manager, went inside to deal with the reservations. He was followed by Mark, who had donned his new Harley gear in the van and looked not in the least like someone staying at the Marriott.
Mark's emergence from the van prompted a visit from Ashley, the bellboy, who decided it was his duty to see what this van full of hooligans was doing at his hotel.
"You guys staying here?" Ashley inquired, sticking his Top Gun haircut into the van.
"Yeah," answered Jim, trying to be respectful. "We're in a band."
"What's the name of the band?" Jim now had Ashley's full attention.
"We're called Balaam & the Angel."
The name registered zero with Ashley, who continued, "Where are you playing?"
"One Step Beyond," offered Jim, still being friendly.
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| Mark Morris - onstage at Wolfgang's San Francisco, May 1987 Photo: Devorah Ostrov |
"Oh, yeah, I've heard of it," said Ashley. "But it's not really my scene."
By this time, Chris and Mark had returned with the news that although the hotel had the reservations, there were no available rooms. Although I'm sure Ashley was relieved, this meant the band would have to drive straight through to Oregon after the show.
But don't worry about the two fanzine journalists from San Francisco, we'll be fine!
"It's because Mark went in there looking like that," grumbled Des.
Mark countered with something like, "Shut up!" And so, amid the good-natured arguing, Chris began the drive to the club.
It wasn't long before we realized that no one had any idea where we were. "Maybe we should have asked the creepy bellboy for directions," suggested Jim.
However, Chris came to the rescue, pulling out a map of the area which Mark did his best to decipher. Between the two of them, a likely looking freeway exit was chosen and... we were still lost!
"No wonder we're lost," Des proclaimed, noticing for the first time that the map was in Mark's hands. "Monkey's got the map!"
Eventually we found the club, and the show was great! Although the South Bay audience was lacking on the energy front, prompting Mark to shout: "Fucking let us know how you feel about us. Make some noise one way or the other!"
Backstage afterwards everyone was in good spirits, saying goodbye, exchanging addresses and promising to keep in touch. Mark took a quiet moment to draw us aside and tell us, "Me and my brothers are like all other brothers. But no matter how much we fight with each other, I really love these guys. We're as close as anyone could ever be, and we'll always stick together."
