Recently
I began working on a few projects with a friend. It just so happens
he’s someone that’s worked with me on several projects before,
and thanks to a few of them, you might just know who he is. As
we got started moving some material around, having conversations,
and setting up some thoughts, it became apparent we had a few
things that we felt were taking shape right away.
Folks…
a return of the man I introduced to you as Vegas Cool.
Mr.
Art Vargas.
Our
work together began well over a decade ago, when we met during
a run of Legends in Concert. He was performing a tribute
of Bobby Darin. Our time together back then delivered an interview
and photo gallery to the In My Backpack website. The
interview was later included in my first book, Time Just Drifts
Away.
Over
the years, we’ve been in touch off and on, exchanging pleasantries
and occasionally catching up on events of the day. Then, last
year, the communication picked up and some questions about what
each of us was working on were asked. I’m not really at liberty
to share everything right now, but that brought about some thoughts
for a few projects we might work on together, and led us to those
conversations I mentioned a moment ago. Several lengthy conversations.
Interview-like conversations.
Art
and I both felt the material was pretty good. In some ways a teaser
of what’s to come, but more accurately just worth sharing now.
Normally, I’d create an elaborate introduction to this piece,
which reflects a return to interviews here at the Backpack. But,
Art and I are going to be delivering a few things as the calendar
moves along. So…
I’m
going to ask you to enjoy two interviews. One is right here, and
the other is being released in the August edition of my newsletter,
A Parkside View. As our projects move along, Art and
I will be making announcements, sharing additional material, and
pointing off in a few directions so you can enjoy what we’re creating.
One
quick note: We bounced around a bit. The material in this interview
doesn’t dive too deeply into Art’s life story. We’ll be getting
to that soon enough.
~ ~
~ ~ ~
Can
you remember your first time on stage?
Oh
yeah. We’re talking 1974 or 75. I was 10 or 11 years old. There
was a talent show at the Boys Club of Metropolitan Detroit, which
was located in my old hood of southwest Detroit.
My
friend Arnoldo played guitar and I sang. We performed “Eleanor
Rigby” and “Jailhouse Rock”. Another schoolmate, Cindy, added
bongos. We were kids doing a sixties folk trio.
I
can still remember the applause though. Getting it was validating.
I have this memory of staring at the floor while singing, a bit
stiff and intimidated, and shy of the audience. And yet even in
the early stages I can see where things kept snowballing and building
for me from it, by taking that first step to get onstage and perform.
The universe steps in and nudges you along by being true to yourself,
discovering yourself, finding your purpose and sharing it with
others.
As
you were developing in your early efforts, finding your voice
and exploring your interests and abilities, where did you look
for opportunities, motivation and support?
This
is a difficult part of my story, because my development, personally
and professionally, doesn’t involve a happy home life. But yet,
I was always able to carry myself with a poise, an aura of confidence.
When it came to what was happening with my family life though,
I never received support and encouragement. I was actually discouraged
and ridiculed for being proud and confident of who I was becoming,
and my budding creative talents behind that.
Good
and bad, it’s all part of what developed me, challenged me, and
drove me into who I became. I would get recognition and praise
for my budding talents as an artist, a dancer, a singer, all of
which came from places outside the home. It came from the southwest
Detroit community, from friends and their families, and people
that actually witnessed my creativity. For me, this validated
that I was on the right path and strengthened my determination
to continue.
There
were times I was ridiculed because I was such a different and
unique child, unlike many of the other boys in the neighborhood
at that time. It never really discouraged me though. Music, singing
and dancing were natural for me. I loved all of it, and I was
good at it. I had no true mentor. I’d find something that interested
me, and then explore it. I tended to look and act older than I
was along with that, which attracted like-minded people to me.
Here’s
a short version of a story that shows how my journey makes sense
even with a lot of twists. The Fairlane Town Center, the largest
mall in the Detroit area, was putting together a modeling and
fashion show group called the Fairlane Fashion Panel. I learned
about it through an ad in the paper. I was always looking for
inspiration and opportunities to perform or dance. They were hosting
a talent contest, with the winners being brought into this group.
I
decided to go for it, and use singing as my talent. I also had
good fashion sense and knew how to dress. I picked a song that
really combined everything, Stevie Wonder’s “Don’t You Worry ‘Bout
A Thing”, and found a record with the instrumental version of
it. At that show, I ended up a winner for the group.
I
became part of the Fairlane Fashion Panel, which along with modeling
and fashion efforts, is something of the true beginnings of my
professional performance career. I was 16, getting paid, and involved
in modeling, fashion, singing, dancing and performing in shows
all around the state of Michigan.
I
have always been motivated to follow my interests and explore
opportunities when they come around. I don’t just answer the door
when opportunity knocks, I swing it wide open and jump in. My
previous moments on stage, and my being involved in dancing, and
a willingness to express my own personality and tastes. They had
led to that contest. As a result, I made connections that led
to more singing and performing, and eventually nightclub work
as a performer around the city.
What
I did have as a kid was possibly the greatest run of music being
written, recorded and performed, happening in my backyard. Detroit
in and around the height of Motown. I had shows broadcasting in
their primes like American Bandstand and Soul Train.
I could lock myself in my room, with my records and 45s, dance
and sing along and dream within my old world as a buffer against
the pain and discouragement within my household. A therapy of
sorts.
I
really did it on my own. I put myself into motion, practiced and
learned and grew and matured. That’s how I would get out and meet
some wonderful people. Again, the universe tends to put opportunities
in your path when you are being true to yourself. People that
would show me respect while offering praise and encouragement,
which was vital to my development as it would be for any child
or teenager.
The
motivation is, and has always been, very personal and within me.
Self-motivated.
Who
are some of your favorite musicians? And/or, what are some of
your favorite songs? Is there a specific reason you think you
appreciate them?
Wow,
where to start. The names might not be what you might initially
expect, but let’s see. The jazz classics like Johnny Hartman,
Joe Williams, Carmen McRae, Arthur Prysock, and, of course Sarah
Vaughan and Rosemary Clooney, as well as the rhythm and blues
and soul singers of yesteryear.
My
true passion and love can be found in traditional jazz and classic
rhythm and blues. There’s a heart, a sincerity in it, and the
voice plays such an important role. It’s an instrument. I’d honestly
tell you that if you really want to see the names, go to the greats,
but there are also so many fantastic people that are shamefully
unknown. But when they sing, you can really feel it. Many of them
just didn’t have the same opportunities.
One
person I love, and appreciate his story so much, is a man named
Little Jimmy Scott. He had a rare disorder that stunted his development
into puberty. His voice never really changed from childhood, and
he was so well respected for how he used his voice and applied
it. He could phrase a song like few ever have.
I
tend to favor singers that can make me feel what they’re feeling.
I want my audiences to know what I’m feeling. I want to establish
a connection and make it real for them.
And
the stories! The stories. One time I met Buddy Greco and Joe Williams
in a dressing room and had a chance to speak with them. I was
scared to even introduce myself. We began talking, and I told
them how I appreciated what they did and listing some of my inspirations.
Joe Williams told me, with a big smile on his face, that my list
took him back to the small jazz clubs in Harlem. He explained
it was time when they all worked together as young artists and
he said “that era will never happen again.” What a thrill it was
to meet and speak with one of my idols.
You
ask me what I appreciate. Well, I truly feel like I’m serving
my purpose. I believe in past lives, and that our spirit continues
on to finish our work. For me, I think you need to be sensitive
and aware of many elements to be able to tap into things deep
inside and then deliver them on stage. When that happens, that’s
what I appreciate and cherish.
What
about favorite songs? Is there a reason they connect with you,
or present something you look for when deciding what to perform?
Too
many. Too many to list. At any moment, it can be influenced by
something as simple as the time of day.
Louie
Jordan. I love his work. That man was the grandfather of rock
and roll. His uptempo blues, the boogie woogie, and how he downsized
the big band. He’s got a song, “Caldonia”, that I love. I love
singing it, and truly believe it’s the beginning of rock and roll.
For
me, pick anything from Jordan, Vaughn, Prysock and on.
Sarah
Vaughn and “Tenderly”, that’s a fantastic song. I love the ones
that paint a picture in your mind and then transport you inside
of it.
I
do an arrangement of “Speak Softly Love”, which is known as The
Godfather theme. Just try to find lyrics like “wine colored days
warmed by the sun” anyplace now.
It’s
not favorite songs individually though. I admire the ability to
make something real. I love great, heavy lyrics. Personally, if
I don’t feel it, it won’t be in my show.
You
and I first met when I was working with Legends and doing
my Bobby Darin tribute. One of his songs is “If I Were A Carpenter”.
Such a deceptive song because in bits it seems simple, which is
part of how incredible it is. There’s so much going on in that
song, so much to deliver. When I perform it, I’m on my knees asking
if you would love me if I had nothing.
You
and I have talked about Darin and “If I Were A Carpenter” a few
times. Great song. Not even close to an obscure or hidden song
from his catalog, and yet, most people might not even name it
if asked to list his songs. When deciding what to include in a
show, how do you weigh factors like what the audience familiarity
might be, your personal connections to the song and how you want
to present it, and how it fits into the overall run for your evening?
Over
the years, I’ve learned a lot about so many different elements.
For instance, if I’m performing in a lounge in a casino, there
can be distractions and so much noise in the background that many
songs really won’t work.
My
approach has always been that I’m doing the songs for me first.
If I don’t connect with it personally, it’s not going on stage
with me. Occasionally, some songs don’t go over as well as I expect
they will. But often, it’s a matter of putting them on the backburner
and revisiting them later. Learning what happened, like that casino
noise, to lower the impact. I also believe there are so many great
songs you truly need to have lived a portion of in order to properly
deliver them.
There
are always going to be songs, like “Mack The Knife”, that people
know and always work as crowd pleasers. For songs like that, I
always go with the straightforward Darin arrangement.
I’ve
done some that many people might consider obscure. “Once Upon
A Time” is a fantastic song. Tony Bennet, Jack Jones, and Darin
all performed versions of it. Ray Bolger performed it in a Broadway
musical, All American, that has an interesting background
and history but turned into a flop on stage. Many have recorded
it, and yet it is pretty much an unknown.
(Art
started singing) “…how the breeze ruffled through her hair, how
we always laughed, as though tomorrow wasn’t there…”
Such
lyrics.
(Singing
again) “…this world was sweeter than we knew, everything was ours…”
If
you put a song like that into your show, you have to know the
exact moment to do it. You can’t scream it. You can’t perform
it with commotion in the background. It’s an intimate song that
needs an intimate setting and an intimate moment.
I’m
kind of answering your question by not really answering it, but
I’m damn serious about what I perform and I do my homework.
How
has the industry changed—and I guess specifically for you the
Vegas experience and booking your shows—over the years?
Has
it changed? Yes. A lot.
Just
talking here, you can see where I’m coming from. Classics. Legends.
Old school and nostalgia laced. I’m an old soul that lived before,
and some of that is becoming out of date. I get asked if I do
any Bruno Mars or if I can add modern hits. And, no, that’s just
not my bag.
When
I’m performing, it works. I know what I’m capable of, I know the
band I’ve got with me, and I can deliver. My record of work and
the reviews all support that. But for crazy reasons, these days
if it isn’t today’s music it doesn’t seem to have the same appeal
or value. There are places that recognize that, but they’re getting
harder to find and you have to do some work to seek them out.
I
don’t want you to think I’m speaking for the whole industry. But
this is definitely my experience. I used to make contact with
people in person, off of a referral, and by phone. I feel that
people responded more directly and quicker to inquiries years
ago. Referrals opened doors and presentations followed. It seems
like if you had delivered before it was easier. People set up
meetings, shook hands and made deals faster.
Now?
Writing texts, emails? So much gets misinterpreted or not even
read. Technology is taking away the personal elements and causing
a disconnect.
And
the economy and nature of the business is shifting. For many musicians,
the expectations are that you’ll do a show for less just because
you’re grateful for the gig. In negotiations, everyone starts
low. Unfortunately, I find more and more that many people in the
important positions aren’t all that qualified or experienced to
do the jobs. And many new performers and musicians to the game
seem willing to do it for nothing, which lowers the bar for the
experienced pros.
(Art
paused here and laughed.) I love how you let me get off on tangents
and just go.
Sometimes
the best answers have nothing to do with the questions.
True
enough.
I
worked non-stop for many, many years. Talked to many people that
reinforced my beliefs and approaches. I was smart and lived within
my means. So, when shows aren’t as frequent, I don’t have to worry
as much. I can stay true to myself. That’s very freeing and very
powerful for me, because it means I can do what I do best.
Vegas
cool, that expression we talked about years ago, is still around.
But it’s getting harder and harder to find. Classic Vegas cool
is where I reside professionally. The changes you’re asking about
involve an era that many people want and appreciate when it comes
to music and performance, but it’s an industry where it largely
no longer exists. These were people that didn’t rely on pyrotechnics
overhead and waves of dancers in the background or multi-million-dollar
effects.
I
thrive in a smaller club setting, or a classic theater-type venue.
Holding a microphone and building emotions. Eye contact. Knowing
how to work a stage, delivery, it’s becoming a lost art. A lost
craft. But it’s authentic. I’ll never feel bad or wrong about
being real and creating honest emotions with audience members.
But good luck convincing the people booking the shows about these
things.
Personally,
I would rather have the face-to-face. It’s a special talent to
be able to bring people back in time. It’s a thrill to work with
material that isn’t being judged on hooks and gimmicks.
Do
you think music, as an industry or in any other aspect, is in
part to blame? I mean, have there been changes where singers,
songwriters, performers just aren’t developing the same way, or
aren’t being asked to have that same depth?
Interesting
idea. There’s something to it.
Many
younger performers I see and meet simply don’t have the same level
of actual experience. Even at a point where I was at their ages,
they likely haven’t been playing on every type of stage for all
kinds of audiences and learning the craft. That matters.
Where
to stand when the fireworks go off, and practicing choreographed
moves, well, the show must go on. But it’s one dimensional. It’s
schtick. Makes for cookie cutter shows. Strip it all away, give
them a microphone and the material, and way too often nothing
happens. There’s no magic. No emotion being felt or sent. It’s
almost as if they’re not sure what to do. What separates levels
of performers is the ability to stand up there without all the
pop and flash, and hold an audience.
Learning
to relate to an audience and how to handle all kinds of situations
doesn’t happen in a conference room designing a stage. It comes
from getting thrown into a pit, sometimes without a net. Las Vegas
lounges years ago, where your success might be judged by pulling
people in that have arrived from around the world, and you have
to do it with your performance. Some of my best reactions, best
lessons, have come from people that arrived to see my show as
skeptics.
Experience.
Experience. Experience.
I
seem to remember you telling me something about all of this when
we first discussing Legends in Concert. Where you started,
where it’s shifted and what it’s become.
There’s
a lot I could say about Legends. I have a lot of praise
for so much of it, and some personal critiques. At my starting
point, in the beginning, it was with John Stuart. He was the creator
and original producer. And John was all about putting together
the very best show possible, with the best of the best performers
available, for the audience. I always appreciated that, high standards.
Those are my standards as well.
Yeah,
sure, talk to me these days about ticket sales and profit. I would
still argue that putting together the best performers and the
best show is lost in the corporate world. The bottom line is the
driver, not the performers or the material. Rules and regulations
come into play, not because they should but because they offer
excuses. It all takes away from the performances.
I
don’t agree with “oh well, the audience won’t know the difference”
decisions. That’s a cheap copout. How dare you cheat an audience
out of what could have been more special. How dare you disrespect
the stage and those in attendance. It’s a privilege, one should
never take it or the audience for granted. That’s the old school
ethic and honor I go by. Always!
I
appreciate the old school showbusiness icons of the 40s, 50s and
60s, and so many of the others I’ve mentioned, as my teachers.
People tell me they don’t get the same feelings, the same depths
of emotion and connection, watching shows these days. I agree,
because it’s how I feel watching some of them. It has nothing
to do with whether or not I like lasers and smoke machines. It’s
just that none of that has to do with the ability to make it real.
To deliver and reach a person.
What
would you tell someone to do if they asked you where to find some
good, live music these days?
Funny,
I get asked this type of question a lot. People know I live in
Vegas and that I’m tuned in to what’s happening. Vegas is known
these days as a big sports stadium, big concert arena town.
Who
can I recommend? If I’m being truthful with them, few. There’s
nobody that does it for me, and no apologies here.
Not
to rain on anyone’s parade. If there’s a comedian, or a magician,
or a show you want to see, go. Enjoy. But when choosing for myself
and looking at music, when I go out I want it to be personal.
People like Laura Shaffer, who I really enjoy. She has the best
femme-fatale, classic Hollywood persona, and the goods to deliver
it. It tends to be people I’m already working with. So, sometimes
it’s just an unplanned discovery when I find it.
Part
of why I went off on my own, to develop my own show, was that
I knew I was more than a Bobby Darin impersonator. Sure, I love
performing that music, and love doing sets as Darin. It’s just
not the only thing I wanted to do. I lost work, especially early
on, by not doing what was expected. I was told I’d work more if
I added Top 40 hits. But that’s not me. I find it makes a lot
of the shows the same show over and over and over. I had to be
true to myself. Many folks reach for the paycheck instead. I wish
them the best, but it doesn’t work for me.
Here’s
a good story that comes to mind. I go around on occasion and perform
in senior centers. It’s amazing and fills me with so many great
feelings. I can’t bring a full band with me, but I give them the
same energy and the same effort I do every time I step on a stage.
The responses are just magical. You can see these people, connecting
with the music, being swept away by their emotions and memories
and more, reaching out and standing up and dancing. Time and again
staff will tell me they didn’t know some of the residents were
capable of singing the songs, remembering things, or getting up
and dancing, but there they are doing all of it and more. They
thank me for coming, but I always feel like I should be thanking
them. That’s higher power stuff. That’s when you know you’re making
a difference and making people truly, deeply happy.
~ ~
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This
is just a small portion of the story Art Vargas shared with me
and of the time he spent with me to date. I cannot thank him enough
for his patience, kindness, and attention. I’m grateful for all
he has given me, sharing so many incredible thoughts and ideas
in general about music as well as specifics of his fantastic career.
There’s
more to the story. A lot more. Art and I plan to be working together
on several projects in the future. We’ll be releasing information
about it when we can, using places like the In
My Backpack website, future issues of A Parkside View,
and our social media pages for announcements and more. Keep an
eye out for it, and enjoy all of it as it comes along.
For
any questions, just reach out and let us know.
Art
Vargas and The Swank Set on Facebook
The
Art Vargas photo gallery at In My Backpack
The
pictures you see in this article have been provided by Art Vargas.
All rights to these pictures belong to Art, and he has approved
their use on this site. They cannot be used for any other purpose
without his permission.