Local Musicians Rally In A Comrade's Hour Of Need. By Jennifer Murphy WHEN HIS SON, Rudy, fell ill a couple of years ago, Rainer made the album D.Y.O. Boot and used the proceeds from album sales to pay medical expenses. Now Rainer is faced with his own medical emergency, treatable lymphoma, and it is up to his friends, fans and family to do what he is currently unable to do for himself: raise money. The second Rock for Rainer concert (the first was last weekend with Jonathan Richman and 35 Summers) is scheduled for 7 p.m. to 1 a.m. Saturday, February 24, at the Historic Rialto Theater, 318 E. Congress St., and they've pulled all the stops. The all-star line-up includes Giant Sand, The Drakes, Sam Taylor, Maryanne, Cantrell, Naked Prey, Paula Jean Brown, Stefan George, Ned Sutton, Al Perry, Blue Lizards, Black Moon Graffiti, Greyhound Soul, Billy Sed, Bridget Keating, Mitsy, Dave Seeger, Ricky Gelb and John Venet. The diversity of musical genres sharing the Rialto stage reflects Rainer's versatility as an artist who's crossed more borders than the Secretary of State. "Everybody's used him," Billy Sed confirms. "And I don't mean that in a bad way. I'm sure that I don't know half the people he's played with." My own introduction to Rainer dates back to 1980, when he was a member of Giant Sandworms along with Howe Gelb, Billy Sed and Dave Seger. Sed recalls: "The first time I met him was at the Hurricane, right around the time the Pedestrians were breaking up in '79. He had this weird velour shirt on with all these stripes and he made a big impression on me just by the way he looked. We started talking and he asked me if I wanted to play and--bingo--I was over at his house. It was just him and me, and after a couple of songs I remember saying 'Hey man, can you put down that slide?' But I don't think he did. "We used to do this Richard Thompson cover and Rainer would sing real soulfully in that voice of his, and me and Dave would back him up with these really pretty pop harmonies," Sed laughs. The initial meeting between Rainer and Gelb contained experimental elements that would come to define their respective careers. "It was in 1976. I had been up for three days and I went to see Roman Polanski's movie The Tenant at The Loft," Gelb tells me. "Afterward, I went down to see Rainer play at the Helen Street Café. Somebody told him that I knew how to play piano so he called me and asked me to come down and play with him. "The piano faced the wall and I sat down and said 'G' because it was all I could handle. I didn't know what I was doing and the end of the song didn't seem like a good place to be. I was afraid of audience response, so I kept playing--all night. Rainer stayed right with me, it didn't seem to phase him at all. Finally, the end of the night arrived. There were a few people still there and they clapped and left. Rainer looked in the tin container and it was full of tips." Rainer chose to remain in Tucson rather than to move to New York in '81 with the rest of the Giant Sandworms, a decision Sed calls "pretty smart." Rainer began to get closer to his blues roots. "I first saw him when I was in college," Al Perry remembers. "I was at Choo-Choo's drunk on draft beer and Rainer was on stage playing Delta-style blues, but in his own way. I kept going up to talk to him and interrupting his set and he was his usual nice guy putting up with another drunk at a bar. "Rainer has never done anything in a purist fashion, that stuff isn't like a museum piece to him. He uses the blues as a jumping-off point more than anything else," Perry concludes. Word of Rainer's approach, combined with his extraordinary ability and passion, spread. Billy Gibbons of Z.Z. Top showed up at one of Rainer's shows at Nino's, and the next time Gibbons was in town with his band, he invited Rainer backstage and had him give one of his tapes to Kurt Loder, who was then with Rolling Stone magazine. Loder heaped praise on the music, giving it three stars. To the best of my knowledge, it is the only time Rolling Stone has reviewed an independent release on cassette tape. Most of Rainer's recorded work has only been available in the import section on the British label Demon Records; and his most recent, Nocturnes, was issued on the German label Glitterhouse Records. "My wife and I went over to England in the Spring of '87," music writer Fred Mills recalls. "I had made some contacts with some music people over there and that's when I learned about the Tucson scene and was turned on to Barefoot Rock by Rainer and Das Combo. That quickly became one of my favorite albums, but I thought it ironic that it took a guy from England to turn me on to one of my own countrymen." On one British tour, Rainer was asked to score a film for the BBC. The producers hadn't been able to find the right music and they were waiting for him when he came off stage. Given little more than vague directions, Rainer effectively translated the on-screen action into music. The producers were thrilled. Many of his fans might not know that story. If I hadn't asked him directly if he'd ever scored a film, I still wouldn't know. Rainer is more well-known for sharing musical knowledge than touting the details of his career, which includes playing with Robert Plant on one of his solo projects a few years back. In part, it is his modesty that has endeared him to his fans and other local musicians. "Rainer is the embodiment of everything that people hold decent within themselves," Gelb says without hesitation. Ned Sutton even credits Rainer for the Suttons' decision to have children. "He told me you'll never be together enough, you'll never think you can afford it, you just do it and dig it," the country musician says with a chuckle. "Rainer's what it's all about," Dan Stuart sums up simply. "With him it's always been about the music." Peter Catalanotte, who quit playing music himself, concurs with Stuart. "I'm amazed by him. He lives through his music and he hasn't gotten rich off it. He hasn't grown weary of the daily grind. Any other person would have been worn down by now. "He has always risen above the politics that plague all music scenes. He's too mature for that and he's too into the music," Catalanotte notes with respect. Sean Murphy, a local musician who has been known to go without eating lunch so he could buy Rainer CDs, says, "He has a gift beyond talent, he can create an alternate environment no matter where he plays. He is always searching...you'll never hear the same set from him twice, he's constantly exploring. And he is confident enough to throw a wrench into the works and make the wrench sound good." Dan Stuart tells me he has a friend who had the same thing Rainer has and now his friend is in remission and back to his old self. It's a winnable fight. Until Rainer is well enough to take the stage himself, his friends will be up there for him and they look forward to seeing all of you at the benefit concert this Saturday. There is a $5 suggested donation at the door, but if you feel like giving more, please do. I'll see you there. Rock for Rainer fills the house from 7 p.m. to 1 a.m. Saturday, February 24, at the Rialto Theatre, 318 E. Congress St. A third benefit is scheduled for March 9 at Club Congress, 311 E. Congress St. For information, call the Tucson Blues Society at 327-5593.

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