Did I say I would return to Loffler's for the annual Fender FretFest post-NAMM blast? Damn straight! Never flake on a promise!

Okay, so it wasn't because I promised, it was because I couldn't keep myself away; Loffler's is on my route to and from the office (it's on Katella near Dale in Anaheim) so the entire week of NAMM, my car kept pulling toward the club as I passed it. The guy at the Unocal station said it was because my tires were worn, but that's just a minor technical detail. On the afternoon of Friday, January 21, the force was overwhelming. The car actually drove itself into the Loffler's lot and next thing I knew, I was interrupting the Fender guy while he tried to set up the stage, chirping in his face at 100 mph with questions like, "Are you having a guitar raffle tonight? Is it just tonight or is it tomorrow night, too? How many bands are playing? Anyone famous? What time does it start?" Yeah, that's right. I'm a professional journalist and the Fender Guy loves me. He also loves being grilled with airheaded questions after a long hard day at the NAMM show.

After interrogating Fender Guy, going home, and changing clothes, I returned to Loffler's just in time to get slapped with a Fender Artist pass (good for free cover, backstage VIP patio access, and all the ins-and-outs you want) and to hear the end of opening band The Duds, a mellow and melodic group of fine-looking young men.

Fender had reserved all the prime seating in the house for their employees, so I hid out alongside them and ordered dinner – four gigantic, fat taquitos complete with guacamole, salsa, and sour cream for only $3.00! Just as they were cooling, I heard a shrill little voice shriek into my left ear, "Do they have good taquitos here?" It took me just one glance out of my left eye to know for sure. Yes, it was her – the one, the only - Bar-B-Doll from NAMM 2004!

Feeling just a little sorry (but not really, though) for exposing her in last year's article as being the little urchin who suspiciously won top prize (a Sting Signature Bass, damn her) in last year's drawing, I made a thinly-veiled attempt to squelch my furor and found out her real name: Martha (last name omitted to protect the poor thing from her own notoriety). Martha? Forget that, she'll always be "Bar-B."

Adding to the fun, Bar-B introduced me to her boyfriend, a Fender employee/bass player in one of the many Fender corporate bands (musicians working at Fender gig with co-workers and get promoted by the company). Shaking hands with Bar-B's guy opened a window for me to be a troublemaker. "Hey, wasn't it classic last year when she won that Sting bass and ran out the door, swinging it around without the case, screaming, "eBay! eBay?" Bar-B-Boyfriend hollered, "She did what? Fantastic. Her boyfriend is a bass player, and she's hawking limited-edition basses on eBay." Bar-B tried to get out of this one by admitting she didn't really end up selling it, but that just drew attention to the fact that she has a choice bass stashed in her apartment and she didn't even give it to Bar-B-Boy for Christmas. Bahawaha!

Contributing to my amusement and excitement was the fast-approaching opportunity to win this year's give-away, a 1969 Strat valued in the area of $3,000=plus. I bought five tickets and focused on the next Fender Custom Shop band, Switchback (Cristy and Kimmie, check out the singer in the photo). Bass-and-effects heavy, Switchback's "Wired" is reminiscent of Red Hot Chili Peppers, but cleaner and tighter. Within just one song, you get reggae, ska, and rock, and not even one hint of Sublime. This band has energy, power, and fun. Definitely see them when they come to your town.

You know how some old ladies go to Bingo Night with hopeless dreams of winning money? Well, this old lady goes to Loffler's on NAMM night with equally-hopeless dreams of winning a fabulous array of valuable prizes. The first raffle numbers were called. Nothing. Fortunately, proceeds go to the Fender Performing Arts Center Museum to fund children's music education. Keeping this positive aspect in mind took the edge off my pissed-offedness.

Bar-B invited me to party with The Fender Gang at their table, just as Boy-B was taking the stage with his group, The House Band (a.k.a. Velvet Elvis, a.k.a. The Big Girls). Figuring this was a set-up to steal my raffle tickets so she could win again, I declined with the excuse of having to roam the club so as not to miss an important photo opportunity. Making my way toward the stage, I noticed The House Band sounded a lot like a Floyd tribute...then realized they weren't just sound-alikes, they actually were playing Floyd. They were a cover band. At least their drummer sang lead, giving the audience something unusual to watch.

As Bar-B-Man pounded the bass hard and our friend Fender Guy blazed guitar on "Rocky Mountain Way", I wondered why Fender didn't still have a facility in Fullerton, near my home (they're now spread throughout the USA and Mexico, and their only remaining California operations are in Corona). Observing the lively crowd of partiers dancing, feeling the warm spring-like breeze blowing through the back door, enjoying cold beer and relaxation, I realized I hadn't had this much fun in forever. It was a true party, just like back in the '70s, and I quietly wished I could work with these people every day.

Surf-punk band Slacktone were up next, throwing down their hyper-trippy blend of Dick Dale-meets-skate-shredder weirdness. The "Slacktone Sound" is similar to the "Playtone Sound" (That Thing You Do) but sharp-edged enough for Quentin Tarantino to use as soundtrack material. Their "Skateboard Rockin' Commando", with extreme energy and talent from drums and guitar, received a properly elevated level of love from the audience.

Feeling another gravitational pull toward poor Fender Guy (by then taking a break from playing to draw the winning numbers for the most important raffle of the night), I got my hopes all pumped up again for the Strat. Fender Guy called up winner after winner: first a Fender baby-t, next a Jimi Hendrix DVD box set. Then I heard it - my number. The prize? Imagine my joy. A trucker cap. Hooo-ray. My office co-worker dude would be so happy when I tossed it on his desk Monday morning. What did the next winner get? Correct. The Strat!

As I bit my tongue to silence a scream, United Blues Band took the stage, once again showcasing Fender Guy on guitar, mighty vocals, and a complete Chicago-style horn section. At mid-set, the singer revealed this was their first live gig ever in front of real people, surprising since they charged right out of the gate sounding fully-seasoned with talent o' plenty.

Once again, I shuffled out of the Fender FretFest awash in a mix of emotions: dejected at my failure to win a guitar, elated from the high of enjoying the most happenin' party of the year. Most of all, I was ready to converge on the NAMM show the following morning. Will I be back to try again next year, like a habitual sheep flocking toward the herd? Oh, hell yeah. See 'ya in 2006, Bar-B-Doll!

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Photos by Marlene