November 19, 2005

9:32 p.m.

Messages

Although I was reluctant to embark on our New York tour this week, I suspected there might be reasons (other than money, which wasn't one) for playing the gigs. I arose Wednesday morning and planned the day so I could leave around 2pm for Larchmont, where I'd meet the rest of the band for sound check. Chris called then, saying the promoter had called and wanted to cancel the first night because he only had four dinner reservations. He needed to take $200 off the top to pay the sound man, and everyone would lose money if nobody else showed up. I hoped we wouldn't have to go.

Chris counterproposed that he himself could do sound with our PA, since we were bringing it for another gig anyway, and he'd only ask $100 -- that way the venue would fare better (and we'd have a little more cash). The promoter agreed, and we checked with the duo with whom we were splitting the night, and they said it was okay. So by 1:00 we were on for sure.

I left earlier than I needed to, just because I was ready, and got there first. The restaurant was small, and it was by far the smallest "stage" we've ever had to fit ourselves onto. We'd brought only about half our instruments, and left a couple more off, and still we had to tier instruments on benches and Chris had to stand behind us. It was what I call a "tai chi" gig, where you have to move slowly and strangely to take off or put on a guitar, or maneuver around a microphone.

Still it was a reasonably fun night. The dinner they fed us was great, too -- a huge field greens salad covered with roasted vegetables, portabella mushrooms and a large piece of perfectly grilled salmon -- almost crispy on the outside, meltingly perfect on the inside.

I guess I shouldn't name names here, but one of the guys we split with (let's call him J) is a Nashville singer songwriter who has had his songs covered by many known people, like Faith Hill. One song is coming out on the next Garth Brooks album, and another was in the final episode of Mad about You. He's toured with Dan Fogelberg as a backup singer and bass player. His friend/gig partner (whom I'll call F) was Bonnie Raitt's bass player for many years, and also a singer songwriter. When they tour together they alternate songs and back each other on bass. It's a great combination.

We've split a couple of nights with them before, and they're such nice guys, and full of road stories and a lot of encouragement for us. We need encouragement right now. They've both been more famous and less famous than they are now; the important thing is that you keep showing up. F said it would be a spiritual and musical tragedy if our band ever broke up, and that it doesn't matter how long you've been doing this or how old you are. J said we have to keep having faith in ourselves, a concept we haven't thought of for quite a long time, in all the drudgery of trying to pay bills and put butts in seats. But they were like the collective voice of God that night, reminding us that there is a larger picture. Lesson one.

The next night we were in New York City, at a place called The Living Room. They've moved to a larger space, apparently, than when C&C played there long ago (I'd never been there), and we were pleasantly surprised at the space. The stage was plenty big, and the sound engineer was right on it, competent and alert. The audience was slightly larger, or slightly less small, than the night before. We brought in exactly eleven people, and F&J brought in exactly two. Of course, much was made over the fact that we brought in so many more people than they did! Most of them were friends of Carol's from when she lived near the city. Best of all was our friend PK, who fronted the first band Carol and I were in, in the 80's. We hadn't seen him or his wife for years, and it was a great surprise that they came.

After our set I asked PK what it was like to be sitting out there, watching Carol and me, in another band, after all these years. He candidly said that it was weird; that yesterday he didn't miss playing music, but after seeing our concert he really would like to play with someone again. PK toured for a number of years with a popular folk/jazz fusion band that toured the U.S. and Europe. Ultimately, he felt artistically stifled and frustrated with them, plus he couldn't tour that much because he had a full time job and two residences to support. So he quit a couple of years ago and hasn't played out since. I told him it was a shame that he wasn't playing; he was so good, I tell you he could listen to a song once and come up with the perfect accompanying part, on guitar or mandolin. He was my first musical mentor, really.

Later, Carol and I agreed, as we have periodically, that we must get PK to sit in on a gig with us sometime. Meanwhile he named a few venues near their weekend house upstate that we might play at, and we could stay with them and visit.

I put myself in his position. I knew that it would be killing to sit and watch my friends play music and not be gigging myself. I can't think of anything else that would give me the same pleasure that playing out does, and I knew I didn't want to give it up and regret it. Lesson two.

(That afternoon we'd also played an "Oh, Susanna" gig at a residental geriatric place. I'm getting a little more used to them. Carol and I even talked about working up a "Moon River" duet, something my mom used to play on the piano when I was very small.)

Last night we were in Chester, at a venue we'd played over 4-1/2 years ago before we'd been this band. That had also been a split night; me, and C&C. Almost no one came. We had higher hopes this time, thinking that F&J would bring in some folks. Over dinner (we all wanted the cod, but it turned out they were out of it, so we had the pasta) J told me more stories about touring with Dan Fogelberg, and the serendipitous ways that he's gotten by in the music business. He and his wife were recently on the verge of selling their house, because they were just flat running out of money, and then the Garth Brooks cover came through. He also told me a very funny story about a friend of his who saw Patrick Swayze in a restaurant, and gathered her courage to shyly go up and ask him for his autograph. He laughed out loud, said sure, and scribbled on the paper. She took it back to her seat. It said, "God Bless -- Dennis Quaid."

Alas, our hopes were for naught; there were exactly six people. We had a blast anyway; the music was good and the comedy was rampant. Lots of jokes about the audience size, and our careers. We joined them on a couple of things, and Bonnie Raitt's ex-bass player played bass on one of our songs. Even for six people and about fifteen dollars apiece. We proved it was possible to have fun in the face of all that. Lesson three.

********

We drove home after the gig, in our two cars. As we were entering the on-ramp just outside of Chester, suddenly, in the darkness, we came upon four Hasids standing in the breakdown lane, in full traditional dress, about fifteen yards apart. We didn't see them until we were right on them, dressed in black as they were, on an unlit road. As if this sight were not startling enough, they seemed to be pointing at us, or threateningly shaking their fingers. In two instants we were past them, and being on walkie talkies, we asked each other what in the world they were doing out there. Hitching? Do Hasidic Jews hitchhike? Chris then reasoned that they must have been admonishing people for driving on the Sabbath. For Pete's sake, I had no idea they were as proselytizing as fundamentalist Christians! The sort who try to push their religious beliefs upon others. It was something to ponder. It was also very funny and surreal. I called Dar and told him, and we laughed and laughed.

When I got home just after 2am, Dar had left me a message on the machine, in a nearly perfect Yiddish accent. It's transcribed below:

"So, Miss Big Shot, too much of a bitch for you to pick us up, ah? From the side of the road you drive by, eh? So, forget it! We give you a curse! A curse! For the rest of your life you're gonna play Grandma Tzeitel in a road Bus & Truck tour of Fiddler on the Roof! That's for you for being so cheap, you don't stop to pick up guys thumbing up there. Feh!"

(When you read this aloud you have to remember to say, "cuh-ees" instead of curse.)

I laughed my ass off.

Having had coffee on the way home so that I would get here in one piece (probably also forbidden on the Sabbath), I was wide awake when I arrived. I found an email from someone with whom I'd gone to college. Not someone I knew well, but we'd had a couple of classes together and I'd directed him in a scene from The Madwoman of Chaillot. He'd been in a rock and roll band and was, like most of the other students, quite a bit younger than I was. It turns out that in the ensuing 15 years he's become a minister in Massachusetts, where he lives with his wife and new baby. Of course my first thought was whether we might play a gig at his church, so I'll ask him as we communciate. Speaking of serendipity, his associate minister (and I don't know who she is) happened to be listening to one of my CDs and mentioned my name, which caused Jerry to investigate whether it was the person he'd known in school. He was very excited that I'd stuck with music all these years, and made it a career, and he loved what he heard and saw on our website. And he wanted to get back in touch. More messages from the Universe... lesson four, perhaps.

And, so funny, I wouldn't have guessed that he'd given me a second thought back then. You know, I was so much older than the other students, they really weren't interested in hanging with me in any personal way. I was touched that he even remembered me.

I was too tired to write much last night, so I just sent him a quick email saying I'd write more over the weekend.

After getting to bed around 3:30am, I woke up today feeling much better than I usually do after such a late night. I can't explain why, but I didn't have that fatigue hangover. Then Chris and Carol called, saying they'd just booked a house concert for the Spring for $1,500. Yowza! Hang in there!

I did some errands and worked on my knitting and didn't accomplish much else, though. I did get a fabulous shirt at the Salvation Army (cozy, dark green flannel type) for $3.99, which was on sale for $1.99. Then I found a nickel in the parking lot, thus reducing my cost to $1.94. Then I blew almost $100 at the new Wholefoods in West Hartford. But hey, that's food, and I stocked up on some staples that were on sale, like Edensoy and Emergen-C.

And now I've typed this long entry twice, because an errant hand movement that pressed the "back" button on my mouse accidentally erased the first version. Lesson five: Write it in Notepad first if you're not paying attention. And now I'm truly tired. It's disorienting to have toured during the week and to be home on the weekend, but it feels really special. It's cold outside, winter cold, and I'll turn on a space heater soon and get back to my knitting -- the sweater is almost done.