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He’s Mercenary About Music : * An electrician by trade, Ventura guitarist Randy Norris realizes everything has its price.

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SPECIAL TO THE TIMES

Here’s a guy who doesn’t need cable, since he’s rarely home at night. Singer-guitarist Randy Norris works. A lot.

Norris, of Ventura by way of Kansas and Colorado, has been a local for a long time. He’s been playing guitar for about 15 years, developing a reputation mostly as a blues player, and has spent a lot of time on the road. His band, Randy Norris & Full Degree, has headlined the long-running, itinerant Blue Monday gig.

Currently, his top gig is with a three-piece band with a clever name, Art Carnage. Originally a basic bar cover band, Art Carnage still does that stuff but now they have 90 minutes of original material.

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They play a couple of nights a week, usually at the Whale’s Tail at Channel Islands Harbor. On Thursdays they are joined by former Apple recording artist Jackie Lomax for a night of R & B.

Between Art Carnage dates, Norris writes songs and gets extra gigs out of the union hall. In addition to Blue Monday, Norris has played regularly at the Bermuda Triangle in Ventura, and has opened for Stevie Ray Vaughan, the Drifters, the Rivingtons, Rare Earth and Jack Mack & the Heart Attack.

In a recent conversation, Norris discussed his night job.

In the rock ‘n’ roll cosmos it seems the lead singer gets the girls, the guitar player gets the studly solos and the bass player and drummer get to carry the gear back to the truck. Is that really how it works?

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That should be the formula, but that’s only in the movies. Anyway, I’m married. Playing lead guitar, my amp doesn’t have to be that big and I don’t have to move so much stuff.

How often do you play?

It depends. I played eight days last week. It just varies usually from two to six nights per week. I haven’t had to take a day job for a couple of years, and my hands are glad of that. I’m an electrician, but I’ve done all the other trades too. You name it, I’ve done it.

You’re actually a card-carrying member of the union, aren’t you?

Yeah, I’m a member of Local 581. You pay your dues, you get some insurance and some gigs, mostly in the summer. They call a couple of times a month. The stuff I take are extra gigs like Saturday afternoons.

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Tell me about the bands you’re in now.

I joined Art Carnage about a year and a half ago because they had gigs and I didn’t. When we first moved out here about eight years ago, my wife said, “Let’s go to the beach, honey.” We ended up at the Beachcomber in Oxnard. I went in there again to get a beer and the band had just lost their guitarist. I played with them that night and now we’re about to release our first tape. We do back-to-basics rock ‘n’ roll.

What’s the story on Jackie Lomax?

He moved to Ojai, where his ex-wife lived. He was the first guy signed to Apple Records. He did two albums for them in the ‘60s. George Harrison produced; Paul McCartney, Eric Clapton and Ringo played on it. We back him up on Thursday nights. He does an R & B thing. My other band, Full Degree, is sort of on the shelf right now. It’s a lot of guys from a lot of different bands that we just do when we can. I’m also the backup guitarist for Jack Mack & the Heart Attack.

Is there a certain price to pay for doing what you want and not working a day job? I mean, do you have to play songs you hate? What if someone wants to hear “Margaritaville”?

Whenever something like that happens, a guy throws a $20 bill at us. I’ll probably play it, but you better throw some cash at me. I’m a businessman, it’s as simple as that. I’m not changing my scruples, but merely adhering to them. If I’m playing for free, no “Margaritaville.” We may do a (crummy) cover song, but if we do, we’re gonna have some fun with it.

Describe your own music.

I write a lot of different kinds of songs. I’ve got probably 150 songs, everything from rock ‘n’ roll to R & B to everything in between. If Steven Spielberg called and wanted me to write a waltz, I could do it. I’m a mercenary, man. My landlord is a mercenary. My banker is a mercenary. The guy that owns the car lot is a mercenary. That’s just the way it is.

A lot of people around here seem to think you’re some sort of blues dude.

Yeah, I’ve gotten tagged with that. I never set out to be a blues guy, but it’s something I dig. I love the blues. It’s just something that happened.

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What’s it like playing night after night in a bar?

I think a lot of people just go to bars because a club has music. It’s sort of like being downstairs in the rec room with the parents upstairs.

What do you think of the Ventura scene?

There’s some good musical undercurrents, and a lot of young bands. But there’s not enough places to play so they can try their stuff out.

How has Ventura changed since you’ve been here?

It’s getting crazy here. You can’t use the ATM without someone trying to rob you. You can’t look cross-eyed at anyone without them wanting to kill you. These robbers bound and gagged everyone at Pizza Hut, which is two blocks from my house.

How did you get started as a guitar player?

My older brother took me to see the movie “Woodstock.” Alvin Lee of Ten Years After blew my mind, but Jimi Hendrix was my main man. I was a trumpet player since the fourth grade, but I bought a guitar the next day after seeing “Woodstock.” I put a peace sign sticker on my guitar, just like Alvin Lee had.

I grew up in Wichita, Kan., a real Podunk town where all the touring rock bands seemed to cancel at the last minute because X number of tickets weren’t sold. I kept in the closet as a guitar player and didn’t start playing in public until 1979. Before that I went to college and did what everyone suggested. You know how it is--”He’ll come around” or “You can’t play music for a living.” My first gig was in Baltimore--me and an acoustic guitar.

You’ve been a road dog for a long time. What was your strangest gig?

I spent five years on the road on the Midwest circuit, a lot of it with a country band. One time in Bismarck, N. D., in January we played at a place with chicken wire in front of the stage. “Urban Cowboy” had just come out and everybody was in the country-rock thing. Hey, work is work. But the whole thing was just like the Blues Brothers. After one set the club owner told the bandleader, “The guitar player is too rock ‘n’ roll, and that ain’t no pedal steel guitar.” The gig was supposed to last for a week, but we got fired after the first night. They even kicked us out of the motel and I had to wire my wife for money.

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What’s the story on the Art Carnage tape?

We need to put some organ on the thing, then that’ll be it. It’s going to be an eight-song tape. We’re gonna sell it at our gigs and out of the trunks of our cars.

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