why there’s no show on the 23rd

I actually have a number of events to get out, so I’m not sure you’ll see them all today. They all revolve around music, though, so if those posts of mine bore you then these are good posts to avoid.

I booked this March 23rd show at the 10 High back in January. Like every date I get offered, I checked with the band that backs me to make sure everyone would be available, which they were. So, show accepted and all was well. Which was when it all started to unravel. First, Pete found out he had to be in South Carolina that day to give a History paper/lecture. I haven’t been to graduate school so I’m not quite clear on what that’s all about, but basically it meant he was out for the show. He could try to make it back in time, but I didn’t relish the thought of everything counting on nothing happening to him between there and here, since even a minor setback would mean he wouldn’t make it in time. So, I told him not to worry about it, I’d find another drummer. There are two drummers who the rest of my backing band have worked with before that I could call, so it seemed like no big deal.

But one by one they were unavailable for the show. I had another drummer I could ask (who I think I have given the odd impression that it is somehow a secret that he plays drums for me, so Chris, you can tell anyone you like, okay?), who knew my stuff but didn’t know my band, and that could work but it was going to take extra work. Not due to any deficiency on anyone’s part, but just in terms of getting everything smoothed out. But then, just around the same time, I also lost my guitarist. Rob was asked to come up to New York to produce a couple of songs for Josh Joplin’s new CD. It’s a major label release, and this was basically a try out for the label, if they liked it, they’d have him do the rest of the CD. But it meant he’d be gone through March.

So, now half my band was gone, and I was down to three weeks to rehearse for the show, with what clearly was going to have to be a piecemeal band. That particular weekend I went to see chain poets at the 9 Lives Saloon, and I was talking to them before the show. I told them the story, not with any intent, just something for commiseration. Surprisingly, they offered to play the show with me. This seemed like an ideal solution, we’d talked about playing a show together before (although at the time the plan was to do Out of the Blue from start to finish), and obviously they all knew each other’s styles, so there would be any time spent trying to get everyone used to each other. So, I agreed, not only for those reasons, but also the nagging sensation in the back of my brain to find out what I would sound like if I fronted Cheap Trick.

But a week went by and it turned out that their drummer was going to be out of town that weekend.

I rarely cancel shows. Why I have such an overdeveloped sense of sticking to my agreements, particularly in this field, I couldn’t tell you. But for whatever reason, I have only cancelled three shows in my career. The first was with Radiant City, when we realized a show we had agreed to was actually a “pay to play” show (we had to sell a certain number of tickets beforehand to actually play the show, or we could just buy the tickets outright ourselves). We called and cancelled as soon as we found out, it was a long standing rule that we wouldn’t play a show under those conditions. The second was also a Radiant City show, and was wholly my fault. I quit the band, and so had to cancel our upcoming show. The third was last year, two days after I had surgery. At the time I honestly had thought I could still play the show, sitting in a chair, but post-surgery I knew there was no way in hell. I didn’t even make it to visit the other side of the house for the first two days.

But it was clear I had to do something at this point about this show. Apart from my usual neurotic compulsion to play a show, I also didn’t want to do anything to upset the club, who were newly friendly to me. But it was time to admit defeat.

And all she did was suggest we postpone it to April. That, and she pointed out that I was a freak.

I like her.

It’s Just a Ride

This is not a normal post. Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m posting this late, right before a weekend, replete in the knowledge that this post will quickly disappear under the weight of other friend posts long before Monday morning workday readers can see it.

Still…

Tonight Sarah and I stumbled on a book we did not know existed (and is, apparently, relatively new).

American Scream: the Bill Hicks story

I rarely read biographies. I started it around 10:30. I finished it at 3am. I nearly cried at the end.

If you don’t know who Bill Hicks was, you owe it to yourself to spend some time right now and find him on the web. Start here.

Sarah and I were lucky enough to have seen him, once, in 1991. We didn’t know who he was when we went. But we were also lucky enough to have been able to tell him to his face how amazing he was.

I honestly don’t know why I’m telling you this. Night.

Go back to bed, America! Your government has figured out how it all transpired. Go back to bed, America!
-Bill Hicks

the Wurly

March 06, 2002
the Wurly

So, my little Wurly that I mentioned before, I took some time Monday to figure out just how many keys on it were suffering from constant sustain, and it turned out about half the keys had a problem. I still didn’t know how serious a problem it was, but it was starting to look less like an amazing deal and more like an okay one. So, I posed the question to the Wurlitzer mailing list (sometimes the internet is grand) and received half a dozen responses all saying more or less the same thing: try loosening the cable that connects the sustain pedal to the underside of the keyboard. So, I went downstairs and did that very thing.

Yeah, it’s a fucking incredible, amazing deal.

It sounds gorgeous. Problem solved. Dayamn. I just want to hug the thing.

Okay, actually, I have already, a couple of times.

A link for you musician types and any others who find the current state of the industry to be morbidly fascinating… here’s a slightly depressing article from a band called the Rosenbergs. They’re a power pop band (very well known within that particular niche) who decided to go it alone and release and promote their record themselves. Much as I am for the DIY route, this is a good illustration of the difference between, say, Aimee Mann going DIY (and benefitting from her past and name recognition) and myself (who, clearly, has none).