Mixed bag last night, boys and girls.
My third outing at Bobby's didn't quite turn out as I'd hoped. For whatever reason, I only managed three tunes, spaced out over the course of perhaps a couple hours. That was bad enough in itself, but the balance of the evening was spent trying to avoid cold shoulders from not one, but two old flames of mine. And to top it all off, my drum-proteg`e Lady Sheila was once again absent from both my side, and the overall festivities.
I suppose I could have copped out and insisted on playing nothing but the blues, but I didn't want to blow everyone else's night out. Besides that, I was still looking to connect with some of the Regulars I haven't gone up with yet - I'm still the unknown commodity / new kid on the block, remember. As it turned out, I did break a bit of new ground on my last tune, but it was only a bit, nothing more. A rather tasty bit to be sure, though.
As happened last week, my buddy Chris O. tapped me for some fun-n-games to kick things off. Chris was the "featured artist" this week, so he basically had carte-blanche to put together his setlist. By mutual agreement, he had me up for the first two tunes, and Drum-Bud Brian played the last two. I had earlier asked Brian if I could add my ride cymbal to his kit, in my usual left-handed position; he kindly agreed, and that simple gesture was a crucial factor in making me feel the most comfortable I've ever felt in the last three weeks, playing-wise. This time around, I'd be more than ready to do my thing when the time came.
In due course my first call came, and up I went. The adrenaline did much to combat the icy chill coming from the old flames on opposite sides of the room {crossfire hurricane of a different sort, dig?}, and the slight half-sneer on me mug as I sauntered up took care of the rest. The potential for "high drama" never was a match for me when I'm determined about the task at hand, and last night was no exception. Chris launched Stu and myself straight into a Van Halen tune, and I did something totally unexpected - I simply sank into the overall spirit of the jam, and played what I felt. No heavy emotional involvement like I'm usually guilty of, or "OK, this is the version of this tune, let's kick some serious ass." I just relaxed and happily went with the flow, adding chunks of the usual chaos and mayhem wherever and whenever I felt like it.
Thanks to Brian's kindness my true Southpaw attack was unleashed, and boy did I try to make the most of it. Stu was locked tight with me as usual, so I concentrated on trying to "dramatize" what Chris was doing up top. True to form, once Chris heard me making with the silliness he started ramping-up himself, and the tune turned into a pretty amusing romp, considering all the ridiculous chances we were taking. At the tag-out Chris segued us straight into "Turn the Page," and I kept right on grooving in a very loose-and free manner. My chops were sharp, crisp, and tight; they complemented Stu and Chris's work rather effectively - and yes, even my usual million-and-one mistakes integrated well into the flow. We flourished out the song in fine fashion, and my opening salvo was done.
I barely registered but nonetheless thanked the compliments from the onlookers I passed on the way back to my table; I was preoccupied, anticipating that cold-shoulder crossfire to suddenly go liquid-hydrogen on me, 'cos I didn't fook-up onstage the way they wanted me to. Feeling well vindicated, I settled into my table to await the next call. Unfortunately, said call came near the end of the evening, ensuring that my overall blow would be the near-ultimate in pithiness; zero chance for me to dig deep into my pro-fusion blazz trick-bag, or boil up some heavy adrenaline, in other words. Small comfort for me to work for the first time behind Philmo M, and my man Dave B; the long pause between blows had cooled the adrenaline, and the icy crossfire was still there, albeit somewhat muted.
Philmo asked me for an up-tempo blues shuffle; I quickly dug the groove, and our Aggregation took off. We climbed, rode, and fell our way through the tune, propelled on the strength of my even looser playing. It worked well enough, but by now the offstage rot had finally set in to a degree, affecting my concentration. It was enough to make me totally muff the opening to "Candy Rock," and Brian had to be called up to bail things out. Needless to say, I was beside myself with seething rage over how the play had fallen out for me, affected by outside influences. After patiently waiting for the night to end, I reclaimed my cymbal as quickly as I could and split - but not before giving short shrift to my good Facebook-Bud Woody Z, whom I didn't even see at the play until that moment!! Hopefully after he reads this, he'll understand why I was so rude to him and forgive me.
I dunno, gang. I'm well used to the fact that there are going to be just as many off-nights as "ons;" the bulk of my personal upset stems from the dual factors of offstage tension, and onstage wariness from those new to my acquaintance. So I blew one song-intro; it's not like I played "Chopsticks" whilst everyone else was making with the Chopin or Strauss. It's a bloody jam-session, right? At least give me the chance to correct the mistake before ya give me the hook - I could easily turn the tables by asking for "Killin' Floor" the exact way Jimi did it in Monterey, then call for others to come in after the first mistake. I'm respectful and totally supportive of the SNJ; I don't see any reason why the notion can't be a mutual proposition, if you follow my logic.
All the above notwithstanding, there will be plenty more SNJ plays I'll attend in the future - one {poor} night does not a tenure make, y'know? Plus, I'll be damned to the nth degree before I'll let ANY offstage antagonist keep me from fully enjoying the fruits of my musical Gifts. I'm gonna bounce back like a bag of Superballs tossed into the dodge 'em cars at an amusement park {still paying attention, Mister Brahler?} - b-b-b-b-baby you ain't seen n-n-n-n-nothing yet........
More shortly.
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