We had a great show at Linnea’s cafe. Our fourth show ever, and we were still a bit nervous at the beginning, but we started feeling our groove pretty damn quick. Everyone played great, Hilary sang excellently, Toan played some great solos, Matt was thumping away and had a really nice solo moment.
The place was nice and packed and we even sold some CDs to boot!
My friend Abe Perlstein only caught two short clips using his snapshot digital camera, so don’t blame me for the shortness of the vid!
Boise is not a town know for it’s music scene. There are 211,500 people living in the state capitol of Idaho. There are fancy restaurants and tall buildings. All the makings of a fine little city.
The people in Boise, as I was told by the bouncer, are simply not responsive. They seemed to enjoy the music, but were not the type of crowd that would go out of their way to see a live show.
We had a good show, good energy, When we were done playing they applauded, and even requested an encore. But when we finished, they were indifferent, as if they had trouble differenciating between live music and a song on the system that they recognized.
A few short steps outside the Reef and it’s a whole different world. The streets in this particular block of the downtown area are teeming with hundreds of drunk kids roaming around. In a one block radius is literally over a dozen bars, all of them filled to the brim. There are hot dog stands on every caddy corner of this main intersection, and the cops are making their presence known.
It is a little wierd to see this big city, club type scenario in this town, because it is literally dead during the day. And anywhere else in town the night life is not so lively, but this block is hopping.
And the women! The ratio of women to men seems to be around three to one. They dress well and they know it. So if ‘clubbing’ is your scene, and if you’re into hot girls, I recommend this little neighborhood of the world.
Somewhere outside of Boise, Idaho, the passengers are getting restless. It’s been about 13 hours since we left San Luis Obispo and we’ve been driving the whole time. I put about 130 miles in myself; we all pay our dues.
It’s time for food. There’s not much around but strip malls for miles and miles. A typical American suburbia scene. We put over on a whim to search for food. As we scour the signs we laugh at “Tacos Del Mar”. We are far, far, far from the sea.
We see a Chili’s looking place called “Wingers”. We decide to take our chances as the parking lot looks fuller than the other chain restaurants that we’ve not had good luck at in the past (like TGI Fridays). It turns out to be brand new, having opened less than two months ago. They specialize in Chicken Wings and figure that it’s a safe bet.
The first thing I notice, as I Bee-line for the restroom, is that there are more televisions in the bathrooms than in my house. There’s a flat screen above every urinal and a flatscreen above the sink. Strange, I think and go about my business, while catching up on baseball scores. Of course the tvs in the mens room are ALL tuned to ESPN news.
The waitress almost sells us on a bucket of wings for an appetizer, but our will power prevails. Not so for Larry however, he orders a winger sandwich. We laugh and joke at the amount of televisions that surround us, an average of 8 on every wall in the building, all tuned to sports channels.
Then it happens. The waitress comes over to our table to inform us that they are out of wings.
Out of wings.
The place is called “Wingers”.
Only in Idaho is this scenario even possible.
Oh, and the food was good. It didn’t suck, but Larry was really looking forward to the great wings the waitress rambled on and on about at length.
Friday afternoon, and the scattered shade of the eucalyptus trees hover over the stage.
The older crowd gets there early and sets up chairs and blankets so they have a place to sit before it gets too crowded. Unfortunately, the wall of people standing in front of them during the peak hour makes sitting act of fruitless habit.
The excitement builds fast. When one is performing for over a thousand people, the amount of energy circling around is highly contagious. It infects me as I dance around stage like a clown, swaying this way and that to the beat.
The three piece horn section really puts the icing on the cake and makes the band sound larger than life. Nervous energy makes some songs played too fast, but the crowd loves it. They erupt after every solo and hang on every note.
It was a great sunday for recording. It was warm, beautiful and tipsy.
We got together at my house and worked all day using Toan’s little Edirol Stereo Harddisk Recorder, so these are all one takes. No room for error (although you’ll probably hear a few!).
All in all they came out pretty good. There’s even more tracks than the ones I’ve put up, but those might rear their ugly heads soon as well.
I’m playing a jazz set at my good friends’ wedding. It’s a dry wedding and no one is paying attention to us except the other musicians there. Which almost makes me more nervous than if random non-musicians are watching.
The ladies, girlfriends of the drummer and I, are carrying flasks in their purses, and they’re having a good time together. Upon reaching the non-alcoholic drink bar their reaction was perfection: “Oh look, Mixers!”.
A good vibe floated throughout the Monday Club. The ceremony was perfect. Short and sweet, and the choice selection of songs to walk to, Nuages by Django and Something by the Beatles. Great food, good people.
The Damon Castillo band performed and the groom lit up a drum solo like I’ve never heard,he really cut loose, and looked damn good doing it in a tux!
Times are tough right? And this thing not only gets 36 mpg on the freeway, and it’s a 2007 model, AND it fits all my music gear in the back! I’m pretty freakin stoked right now.
The beauty of San Francisco is more than just visual. It is an understanding of sorts that the people share. It’s possibly not known consciously, but it’s there. A freedom. The people here are comfortable in their skin, and act out naturally, for bettor or worse. They feel little or no social pressure to conform.
We met this exceptional gentleman, Patrick, for lunch. He’s old friends with Damon’s booking agent, Wendy. He’s one of those guys who’s cool as hell, and a total bro. He got the tab at this great little cafe in North Beach. We sat outside, sipped on coffee, ate massive calzones and discussed the end of the oil age, reasons why none of us smoke pot (anymore or ever, depending on who’s asking), and the music scene. He lives a charmed life.
He had to make his departure, to head back to work, and we walked down to Washington Square and took a pseudo-nap on the lawn. It looked like the popular thing to do so we didn’t exactly feel like bums.
It was a windy evening in San Luis Obispo and the Monday Club was empty. It was a curious little building, and a little out of place surrounded by restaurants and hotels. Julia Morgan, the famous architect who had so masterfully worked on Hearst’s Castle, designed and built this place for a women’s club. Now it is rented out for all sorts of events, from concerts to wedding receptions. Today it was going to be used for a recital of young musicians who take lessons at the local music store.
The hall was opened and they pulled up Dan’s truck. The camper-shell cover opened to reveal a full sound system, several guitar and bass amps, a lighting setup, and a handful of guitars. Dan, the owner of Grand Central Music, and Forrestt, one of the music teachers, unloaded the gear and discussed deep, meaningful issues like what to do with one’s life and what the future held. It took them about an hour to set-up. Pat, the other teacher, had shown up during that time and they took it upon themselves to make sure everything was ready for the kids and their parents to arrive. With half an hour to spare, they decided to go next door to the mexican restaurant for a quick drink. Pre show nerves always needed a little coaxing to mellow out. Glasses were raised and a toast was made. “It’s You’re guy’s time to shine! Cheers!”
Parents were already claiming chairs in front and the kids were already in the back running around like monkeys. The stage was set, so it was just a matter of running the backstage area, tuning the guitars and getting everyone in order. All the nervous energy in the air about performing in front of just under a hundred people was obviously highly contagious. So much so that Pat got real quiet and retreating at one point, which is not one of his normal traits.
The show got started and everyone took their seats. One after one, children of all ages sat on stage with their instructor and performed short rock and roll pieces. There was some Hendrix, some Guns and Roses, some Pink Floyd, and all sorts of other genres. All the kids were amazing, and no one really choked on stage due to nerves. Which was funny because one of the instructors, Forrestt, made several mistakes that day, while most of his students did not.
After each performance the roar of applause was deafening. All those proud parents out there hooting and clapping and carrying on, it made everyone absolutely positive about one’s song, whether the performance was perfect or not. It was such a great thing for these nervous kids. All that work practicing over and over again. They finally got to see the fruits of their labor.
Although next time, Forrestt would double check the program he made, to make sure he didn’t accidentally omit one of his own students or list other students three times. He caught some flak for that one.
**Disclaimer** This video is from One Year ago’s recital:
