I had known Kelly Wheeler for less than five minutes when he saddled me with the nickname "Meat."  It was Valentine's Day, 1999. I was trying out for Jimmy Paulson's new outfit, New American Shame. Paulson always seemed to end up with record deals, and NAS had already been making waves. I had been keeping up on them through a mutual friend, and original NAS drummer, Dick Rosetti.  

Dick got tired of me asking when he was going to  get me a tryout. "Just call him up, he hates his drummer," Rosetti told me. So in early February, from my temp job at The March of Dimes trying to sell four-leaf clovers representing donations to anybody not inclined to immediately hang up on me, I gave Mr. Paulson a cold call. Dick let him know I had his number and might be calling, but it still took Jimmy a moment for the smoke to clear when I told him who I was.

"Oh right-right-right-right," he said. "Whut's up, man?"

We went on to talk for almost half an hour. It was one of those conversations: free flowing, wandering, a perfect initial meshing of like personalities with a memorable lack of uncomfortable silences. Jimmy and I were born the same year and both have an affinity for watching certain movies over and over until memorization has taken place. We were finishing each other's quotes before we ended of our conversation. We could hang. 

Jimmy went on to fill me in on the band's drummer status. They were going to make a change in the very near future, apparently. Jimmy asked me if I would I want to try out.  

But, like is almost always the case, the current drummer was unaware  of his impending departure. Jimmy also asked me if I would be so kind as to keep the news under my hat until the deal was done.

He didn't need to tell me twice.

A week and a half later, I had been given a cassette tape with a handful of songs on it. The vibe was Bon Scott era AC/DC: Lots of back beat, all feel, no fills. It was right up my alley. I ingested the music until I could play the songs from memory without listening to the tape. I owned it. This wasn't a band that spent hours and hours rehearsing, I had heard, and the tryout would only be two or three songs. Fine with me.

Alongside Paulson, who had been in The Lemons, Best Kissers in the World, all the way back to Tramp Alley (during which time he had been asked to be the second guitar player in a little band called Alice In Chains), New American Shame was made up of Singer Jonny Reidt, who had fronted Bathtub Gin after also graduating from Tramp Alley (when he was known as Vashon Jon), Terry Bratch and Kelly Wheeler - who at the time were also in Redneck Girlfriend. Terry had moved to Los Angeles for a few years in the early ‘90s, where he'd had a small amount of success and made friends with the likes of Josh Todd, (who would go on to front Buck Cherry), before moving back to the Northwest to regroup. Kelly had moved to the Northwest from the Midwest and never lost the drawl. He spent time in the South End band Sedated Souls before starting Redneck Girlfriend.

I showed up a little early for the arranged afternoon get-together. The place was a little tricky to find - in the no-man's land between SODO and Georgetown. When a pickup truck pulled up, I assumed correctly that some of my future bandmates had arrived.

These were all "South End guys" - all growing up south of Sea-Tac. Of them, I had met only Jimmy. Ironically, it was at a show Dick Rosetti's band was playing in Auburn sometime in late ‘97 or early ‘98. Also in attendance that night was Kurt, singer from Girl Trouble. Before Dick took the stage, the four of us were hanging out being entertained by Kurt doing all of his crazy dances (including "the grocery shopper," and its variation, "the grocery shopper with the shopping cart with a bum wheel"). That man is hilarious. At one point, after some goading by Rosetti, Paulson finally asked Kurt something he'd been pondering. He had a new band he was starting and they thought the name of Girl Trouble's New American Shame record would make a great band name. Kurt loved the idea, and told Jimmy to go for it. He went on to say that Girl Trouble had stolen the name from some old ‘40s periodical anyway.

Kelly and Terry jumped out of the pick-up truck. Kelly, from the passenger side, reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out a half-rack of Pabst Blue Ribbon. This was the first I'd seen of the return of Pabst. Soon it would be an omnipresent accoutrement - taking the form of tattoos, wristbands, and of course canned beer around music and print. As always, Kelly did things before they were cool, not because they were cool. 

I introduced  myself and asked where the other two guys were. As we started up the stairs to the practice space, Kelly and I started going back and forth about singers being crazy and late. Then Kelly shouted out, "Hey Terry! This guys got that deep-ass voice and is all Italian looking just like that guy MEAT in Porky's!"

I didn't give it a second thought. Shortly, the other two arrived and the tryout began. At the end of the first song, Paulson erupted "THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKIN ABOUT!!" I figured that couldn't be bad.

They told me I pretty much had the gig, but that they had already promised another guy a tryout and they still had one gig they needed to play with their current drummer. I told ‘em no problem, just to let me know. During the entire duration of that first get-together (and every subsequent get-together) Jimmy, Kelly and Terry called each other "Phil" or "Phillip."  

"Aw, Phil, don't be like that," or "Phillip, have you not been practicing your parts?" It was hard to keep track of who was supposed to be who. Dick told me they did this and was curious for me to find out why.

I got a call from Paulson later that night asking if I wanted to come out again the next day and possibly play for a guy from Island Records who was coming out to see the band - just play a few songs in the practice space for him. I told him sure.  I showed up the next day at the appointed time.

"What's up, Meat?..." was the greeting from Kelly.  It took me a second to remember.

Anyway, I got the gig, and would come to realize over the next two years that NO ONE who hangs around Kelly for any length of time goes without getting assigned a moniker. I was MEAT. Any time we were being introduced to label people, radio people or promoters, or other bands (or ANYONE), after introducing myself as Geoff, Kelly (usually drunk) would insist my name was MEAT until anyone within earshot concurred. After which I would quietly repeat my introduction as "Geoff."  

The band had an amazing run. We met tons of great people, saw many new lands and made a little bit of money. It was over almost as soon as it began, lasting only until 2001.

Every once in a while I'll be walking through a bar or a crowd and someone will call out, "Hey, MEAT!" I almost always ignore it and keep walking. I'm still in contact with all of the fellas from the band and all except Jimmy still call me Meat.  As does Kelly's wife and all of his friends. They are the only ones. I don't mind it when they do it. They're family.

PS: As I write this, the five of us from New American Shame are planning to get together and get the songs back up and gig ready. We all miss playing those songs, and ten years seems to have aged us all sufficiently as to allow us to accept each other (and all of our cracks and quirks) in a way that would have been impossible for us to even imagine back when it was all happening.

Drummer Geoff Reading - who writes a bi-weekly online column (Fridays) for the Weekly Volcano called "Holding Down the 253" in addition to his weekly Wednesday music column - has played music in tons of Northwest bands - Green Apple Quick Step, New American Shame, Top Heavy Crush and most recently Duff McKagan's LOADED - to name but a few. He's toured the world several times over, sharing stages with the likes of Slipknot, The Cult, Buckcherry, Korn, Journey, The Sex Pistols, Nine Inch Nails and on and on. He has called Tacoma home since 2005, and lives in the North End with his wife and son.