I have this seemingly unerring instinct for when an otherwise happily humming-along regular gig is about to end.
I've been part of a trio that played every Thursday at a small bar in Jersey. I'm coming to really like Jersey, especially after all the crap the state usually comes in for. I'm reminded in a way of a totally unexpected comment a singer friend of mine in Minnesota made about bikers (I admit I just didn't expect it coming from an African-American); we were playing a party where everybody rode up in their Harleys, dressed the part, and she said "I like bikers. They're some real people."And it was indeed a nice crowd. Anyway, I'm just constantly reminded of this when I'm in New Jersey: real folks, nice crowds, albeit labor-intensive highways. So at this particular bar, right off the highway, there are pickup trucks parked outside; inside, truckers, people playing pool, watching football, white, non-white, mostly guys but some families, everybody getting along famously. Once I had a long chat there with a blues-guitar loving trucker who spoke with a fascinating, subtly delicious accent, kind of corn-pone in a way I couldn't place. Turns out he grew up in Ireland and has spent the last 30 years in Georgia. And these guys all love our jazz/samba/reggae/Beatles mix.
Anyhow, the other night, it really came together. Being the guitar player in a "guitar trio" has been an evolving thing for me. I put my book together thinking "Put bass parts to my solo stuff, tell the drummer to stay out of the way, and Bob's-yer-uncle." Simple concept, except that it doesn't work. For one thing, the bass player is usurping the gig previously held by my right thumb, for another, in a band setting, even when I'm leading it, I lose a lot of the absolute power I had over things like texture, form and sound. So it's been a bit of a learning-curve, getting to where I can "delegate" musically. But Thursday it was happ'nin! People were loving it and I thought to myself this is it. We got our sound, we can really build from here.... then, I swear to you, my next thought was "uh-oh."
I don't know why it is, but when get I an email that says what a blessing it is that I'm in the band, a text that says it's an honor to play with me, or when 2 or 3 guys from the band tell me after the gig how much they enjoyed what I did, I think "uh-oh." Sometimes a compliment just sounds like the first shoe dropping. Once I had a more-or-less regular stint with a singer in Minneapolis, including a regular Wednesday night at Cafe Havana. I was in the enviable position of playing either bass or guitar for her, depending on which chair she couldn't fill. Get Jocko and go from there, y'know? One Wednesday afternoon, shortly before the gig, the singer called and said she was sick, there wasn't time to find a sub, and could I just lead the trio on guitar to hold the gig down? No problem, and it went great. I'm not prepared to say how "great" I was in particular, but "it" - the evening - was a heck of a lot of fun. The guys in the band said they'd love to do it some more, and one of the bartenders even said I looked like Carl Perkins when I was playing (you know I loved that!). And the singer never called me again. Whoa... when you get fired as a multi-instrument guy, you really get fired!
So there I am in Jersey, in the middle of a tune, thinking a) wow, this is the best we've sounded and b) uh-oh, this is the best we've sounded. And not a half-hour later the door opens and a guy starts schlepping in gear. We talked to him on break, a perfectly nice guy, and he said they got him in to do some dj-ing, starting at 8. Of course, we go from 6 - 9.
Turns out (based apparently on the recommendation of this very young, new bartender) they want to try the dj out for a while, maybe move us to another night? They're trying to draw from a college in the area, and I totally get them wanting to try stuff. The owner told the bandleader they really do like us (which I believe) and he'd call him in a week or two... for which, upon hearing this, I had but one word.
Uh-oh. Or is that two words?
We musicians learn early about life's transitory nature: all gigs end, except if you're in the Rolling Stones. This one was fun, and I learned some things.
I've been part of a trio that played every Thursday at a small bar in Jersey. I'm coming to really like Jersey, especially after all the crap the state usually comes in for. I'm reminded in a way of a totally unexpected comment a singer friend of mine in Minnesota made about bikers (I admit I just didn't expect it coming from an African-American); we were playing a party where everybody rode up in their Harleys, dressed the part, and she said "I like bikers. They're some real people."And it was indeed a nice crowd. Anyway, I'm just constantly reminded of this when I'm in New Jersey: real folks, nice crowds, albeit labor-intensive highways. So at this particular bar, right off the highway, there are pickup trucks parked outside; inside, truckers, people playing pool, watching football, white, non-white, mostly guys but some families, everybody getting along famously. Once I had a long chat there with a blues-guitar loving trucker who spoke with a fascinating, subtly delicious accent, kind of corn-pone in a way I couldn't place. Turns out he grew up in Ireland and has spent the last 30 years in Georgia. And these guys all love our jazz/samba/reggae/Beatles mix.
Anyhow, the other night, it really came together. Being the guitar player in a "guitar trio" has been an evolving thing for me. I put my book together thinking "Put bass parts to my solo stuff, tell the drummer to stay out of the way, and Bob's-yer-uncle." Simple concept, except that it doesn't work. For one thing, the bass player is usurping the gig previously held by my right thumb, for another, in a band setting, even when I'm leading it, I lose a lot of the absolute power I had over things like texture, form and sound. So it's been a bit of a learning-curve, getting to where I can "delegate" musically. But Thursday it was happ'nin! People were loving it and I thought to myself this is it. We got our sound, we can really build from here.... then, I swear to you, my next thought was "uh-oh."
I don't know why it is, but when get I an email that says what a blessing it is that I'm in the band, a text that says it's an honor to play with me, or when 2 or 3 guys from the band tell me after the gig how much they enjoyed what I did, I think "uh-oh." Sometimes a compliment just sounds like the first shoe dropping. Once I had a more-or-less regular stint with a singer in Minneapolis, including a regular Wednesday night at Cafe Havana. I was in the enviable position of playing either bass or guitar for her, depending on which chair she couldn't fill. Get Jocko and go from there, y'know? One Wednesday afternoon, shortly before the gig, the singer called and said she was sick, there wasn't time to find a sub, and could I just lead the trio on guitar to hold the gig down? No problem, and it went great. I'm not prepared to say how "great" I was in particular, but "it" - the evening - was a heck of a lot of fun. The guys in the band said they'd love to do it some more, and one of the bartenders even said I looked like Carl Perkins when I was playing (you know I loved that!). And the singer never called me again. Whoa... when you get fired as a multi-instrument guy, you really get fired!
So there I am in Jersey, in the middle of a tune, thinking a) wow, this is the best we've sounded and b) uh-oh, this is the best we've sounded. And not a half-hour later the door opens and a guy starts schlepping in gear. We talked to him on break, a perfectly nice guy, and he said they got him in to do some dj-ing, starting at 8. Of course, we go from 6 - 9.
Turns out (based apparently on the recommendation of this very young, new bartender) they want to try the dj out for a while, maybe move us to another night? They're trying to draw from a college in the area, and I totally get them wanting to try stuff. The owner told the bandleader they really do like us (which I believe) and he'd call him in a week or two... for which, upon hearing this, I had but one word.
Uh-oh. Or is that two words?
We musicians learn early about life's transitory nature: all gigs end, except if you're in the Rolling Stones. This one was fun, and I learned some things.
