Cheech is Not My Real Name by Cheech Marin

Author:Cheech Marin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography / Entertainment & Performing Arts
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2017-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

In and out of dry dock

As I said, the early to mid-1970s went by in a blur for me. We were successful and we were busy. It was a lot of work but it was work we loved. And it was fun.

At the beginning, it was one club date after another. We would usually play for a week in each spot. Each time we went to a new city was one more week that the album was out and people started to know the names Cheech and Chong. Clubs were starting to sell out the whole week in advance. The greatest thing, though, was that we were working and evolving every day, two, maybe sometimes three, shows a day. You can’t help but grow. Every night it was like picking up the conversation where we had left off. We remembered something we meant to say the night before. Usually we saved it as a surprise for each other. Our favorite thing was to throw in something new that would make the other guy laugh. It was a constant evolution. We were the new underground FM radio stars, and people came prepared to like us. We didn’t have to break new ice every time. The album was doing that for us.

When you are working every day, you are changing the act in small, imperceptible ways. We had regular bits but we would change them slightly in each performance. In the tiniest of ways. Improvisation remained at the core of our act.

Quite often, a guy from the record company or Adler’s office would see us for the first time in a while. And he’d say, “Wow, you guys have really changed the act.” We would have no idea what he was talking about. But we also knew he was right. Little increments every night. I see it as whittling. Basic stagecraft. It’s a big part of my live performance approach.

Tommy and I were also together all the time. We would be walking down the street and out of the blue Tommy would say “Come out slower in that bit.” Or “What if he says this?” And I’d know exactly what he was talking about with no more information than that. Or if we were talking about a bit and playing with it, Tommy, or I, would suddenly say “Say it that way tonight!” Or “What if he does this?” And it would be right to both of us.

Tommy and I were so attuned to each other that we could write for each other. I could see his characters and he could see mine.

We also had a vast trove of common knowledge and experiences. Again, from all the time together. We knew what made each other tick and what made each other laugh. Sometimes, this bond would allow for big laughs for ourselves onstage.

One time we were at the bar at the hotel after a gig. The bartender was a snotty, dismissive woman who had no respect for us. All her answers to us were curt and rude.

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