The Railroad Rolls On For Grand Funk

It's 4:00 on a hot and dry Saturday afternoon in the Nevada desert. The wind is blowing, so it's not too unbearable. It's still over 100 degrees, normal for the area. Seemingly oblivious to the weather that heaves and hoes around him, Don Brewer shuffles forth on his throne as he thwacks each separate drum of his set, tweaking out the tones. It's something every drummer does during a sound check, but watching Brewer, the consummate professional, makes for an intriguing sight.

Back in the 70s, he lurked somewhat in the shadows of the John Bonhams and Keith Moons of the world. But it was hard to miss Brewer's funky 'fro flailing back and forth in the wake of his steady and powerful assault. When it came time to steer the wild and wacky thrill ride of Grand Funk Railroad, Brewer was, and has always been, in the driver's seat. Presently, he is making sure that every one of the 5,000 who will sit on the grass tonight know that — loud and clear.

The sound is a tricky thing at this particular amphitheater, situated right next to a swimming pool in the back of a hotel and casino called the Sunset Station. The Las Vegas Strip lies about 10 miles to the south. The Sunset Station languishes on the outskirts among shopping malls and fast food joints. If you look beyond the stage, all you see are retailers' signs. The idea of Grand Funk's brand of classic rock roaring into the sleepy valley's night sky seems rather disquieting. But it doesn't really matter to Brewer. He's too busy calling out to the soundman. "I sing three songs, so I'm gonna need a little reverb on my voice."

At 52, Brewer is surprisingly lean and full of life. Even with the gray in his curls, he cuts the figure of a man nowhere near the half-century mark. From his throne (behind his drum kit), Brewer more or less directs the activities that unfold before him. Like it or not, he has become the de facto leader of Grand Funk Railroad, one of the most durable bands in rock and roll.

It's probably a tag he could have lived without. Yet, Brewer is such a powerful presence, a driving rhythm machine, a prolific songwriter and singer — well, no one else really qualifies for the job. Except for Mark Farner, arguably at one point, the Funk's focal point.

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When Grand Funk first broke up in 1977, Farner was the only one who embarked a semi-successful solo career. Brewer, Schacher and keyboardist Craig Frost started a new group called Flint and quickly fizzled into obscurity. Brewer and Frost joined up with Bob Seger. Schacher was deep into the private sector. For his part, Farner became a devout Christian, and infused his beliefs into his music. After a short-lived, early 80s GFR reunion without Schacher and Frost, Farner's faith was reinforced when his song "Isn't It Amazing" dented the Christian charts in 1987.

Around 1994 or 95, the original trio of Mark, Don and Mel met up and decided to give Grand Funk Railroad another try. Their reunion was met with overwhelming enthusiasm and high expectations. Underway by 1996, GFR appeared on Good Morning America and The Tonight Show. They sold out concerts all over the country. They headlined benefits for Bosnia in Detroit and Los Angeles with a full-blown orchestra and a stage full of guests like Peter Frampton and Slash. Grand Funk was back, big time.

The threesome and keyboardist Howard Eddy toured steadily for two years, releasing both a live album from their SRO appearance in their home state of Michigan, and the three CD anthology that included their biggest hits alongside new and unreleased tracks. To top it all off, VH1 broadcasted a compelling Behind The Music on GFR, detailing all the trials and tribulations they had experienced during their topsy, turvy career.

Then out of the blue, Farner decided he was done. He amiably left the band in 1998, claiming that their comeback had come full circle, and it was time — once again — to move on. Brewer and bassist Mel Schacher didn't see it that way.

"Mark decided he wanted go back to being solo," says Brewer. "Mel and I wanted to continue. We had just gone through rebuilding the whole name, the whole image, the whole thing."

Brewer and Schacher waited it out for another two years, hoping that Farner would renege. "We kept trying with Mark. It just came down to him saying he wasn't going on."

In the spring of 2000, they recruited three new players — former .38 Special vocalist/guitarist Max Carl, Kiss guitarist Bruce Kulick and Bob Seger's keyboardist, Tim Cashion — and have been on the road ever since.

"I think it's important that Grand Funk carries on," Brewer muses as he stretches out on a workout bench in the hotel's gym. "It (the music) represents a time period in people's lives. It was never maligned except by a few stupid music critics. I think that kind of energy should be out there."

Perpendicular to Brewer, on another workout bench, Schacher calmly adds to the mix. "I get the comment all the time —' I'm so glad you guys are out there.' There's a real sweetness to that. It's coming from the heart."

Brewer leans forward, to emphasize his point. "The audiences seem so receptive to Max, Bruce and Tim — of the way they embrace the material, the way that they relate to the crowd..."

Quite a job indeed considering the role Farner played in the band. But it was never Brewer and Schacher's plan to get an exact replacement. "It would have been virtually impossible to find one guy."

There is no doubt that a five-member band can probably cover a lot more ground; but the real issue is whether or not they can replicate, possibly even expand on the distinctive Grand Funk chemistry. Schacher smiles. "Everything needs to grow. All we're doing is nurturing this musical situation."

It was during a Modern Drummer festival that Brewer made the initial connection with Max Carl. He was advised they should get something together. He sat on it and finally called Carl. While the possibility of reuniting with Farner loomed in the distance, Brewer had several conversations with Carl and finally asked him if he'd be willing to be the new singer for Grand Funk Railroad. Carl didn't hesitate for a minute, immediately accepting the offer.

Brewer remembered Kulick from the time his band Blackjack (with Michael Bolton) opened up for Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band. He is, as Brewer keenly observes, "a rock guitar player who can play an R & B song." Brewer found the guitarist's web site and sent him an e-mail. After convincing Kulick it was really him, the former Kiss veteran agreed to come aboard. As a footnote, Kulick's brother Bob played on Mark Farner's first solo record from 1978.

Next, Brewer contacted Bob Seger's management about a keyboard player. The name Tim Cashion came up. Schacher had heard about him in earlier inquiries and insisted he should be called. The new line-up was complete and jelled immediately.

"It was very organic how it came together," Brewer says.

***

That night Grand Funk Railroad takes the stage around 9:30. While their set is not without fault, it sustains an equal footing. America (yeah that America) opened and went over pretty well. (could you imagine the same bill 25 years ago?) But it is obvious this audience has come in search of something with a little more thunder.

Suddenly, the lights dim. Max Carl stands front and center while Brewer slams down and kicks starts the band into "Rock and Roll Soul," a GFR hit from 1972. The crowd surges forth, on their feet, cheering the band on. The Cyber Funkers (CF) occupy the first three rows and anxiously sing along. In conversations with certain CFs, the general consensus is that this new, sleek version of Grand Funk Railroad is doing just fine.

Indeed, as the band sallies through such rich fodder as "Footstompin' Music," Brewer's own "Walk Like A Man," and the classic "Heartbreaker" — you can close your eyes and not give a second thought to the authentic article.

Three numbers into the show, a plump woman is hoisted up and exposed, and it is 1972 all over again. Carl and Kulick just crack up as they go on to play a rousing version of "Locomotion." Brewer then takes the lead vocal on "Shinin' On" and this tight five-piece is virtually untouchable.

The Railroad suddenly makes a left turn and falls into Carl's .38 Special hit, "Second Chance." The Funky mood is hardly aflutter as a short version of Brewer's solo centerpiece "T.N.U.C." (don't get any wise ideas) swings back to all things Grand. After a few other detours and a smoldering "Inside Looking Out," the quintet launches into the climactic "Closer To Home," played note perfect.

Following with "We're An American Band," all eyes are on the man perched upon the pedestal - behind the wheel, as it were. GFR's own Mission Control. And by the smile on Don Brewer's face, this runaway train is on a roll.

Photos by Craig Clingan

June 30, 2001

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