*poke* *poke*
“It’s raining outside!”
Blackness fades to brightness. I find myself laying in bed listening to the soft patter of rain in the early morning. It’s comforting, sure, but I’m tired.
“What time is it?” I ask groggily,
“I don’t know, it’s early. Wake up!”
“O gawd. I’m tired.”
“You’re always a sleepy head in the morning,” She accuses.
“I’m a musician!”
My answer and excuse for everything.
She wakes and readies for work, leaving me to slumber an extra 20 minutes before I’m forced to rise. I know it’s going to be a long day, so I take my time.
I shower and remember that I need to turn the water heater up. The hot water faucet is up all the way and the cold is not on at all. I don’t think that’s right, but my brain never functions too well at this time of day.
Now I’m clean and I step out on the balcony with a fresh cup of joe. It’s a beautiful day. It’s 9 am, the rain has stopped and the sun is out. That’s got to be the most beautiful weather known to man. The colors are vibrant and everything is still dripping. I inhale deeply of this day, knowing I will not be able to enjoy much of it.
I plop down in front of my computer screen to check my email. I respond to several notes concerning load-in times and gig schedules, as well as work related stuff regarding the up-coming guitar competition that I am involved in organizing. Busy already, great.
I quickly browse a couple of news sites and music blogs when I make this discovery. Today is October 10th! The new Radiohead album is out today! Their official site where you can download the music is not responding at 9:30 am, no doubt from their entire fanbase attempting to download the songs all at once. I quickly find the bittorrent and proceed to leach.
I put on the Cowboy Junkies ‘The Trinity Session’ album and get ready for my day. Sweet Jane!
Beep Beep
The text message says:
“Can you come in early today?”
Super. I look at the computer. It shows my download at 40%. I’ve got to get this crap on my ipod before I head out the door. The only place I get solid listening time in now days is in my car. I respond with a quick text, “I’ll try, I’m in the middle of something.” I feel very self centered after pressing the send button. “It’s okay,” I re-assure myself, “Tomorrow is going to be just as busy, you’ve got to get it now.” After twenty minutes or so the download is complete and I hit the road, listening to new music all the way.
I arrive at the music store to find that Pat has called in sick, hence the early request. I set out to finalize the guitar competition stuff I’m working on in between helping customers with guitars. It’s really not a bad scene. I get to act like I know what I’m talking about, and I’ve been there long enough where I’m starting to convince myself.
Several hours go by, some work is accomplished and some food is consumed. I have about an hour break before I must come back to teach my bass students for the day. I decide to head down to post office to mail some bills and then down to my rehearsal studio to play my poor, neglected upright bass. She is so sad these days, all of my time has been going into my electric basses and my new guitars.
An hour slows to a halt when you’ve got nothing to do. The opposite effect happens, of course, when you’ve got somewhere to be.
I rush back to the store barely in time to make my first lesson. I love my students. Well, most of them anyways. They really are a good bunch of kids. And most of them practice too, which makes all the difference.
I look at the schedule and have a small panic attack. I see that I have a half-hour student scheduled at 5. I have a gig in Pismo Beach at 6, which is a 30 minute drive. That leaves no room for error at all. I thought I had scheduled this better, but I screwed myself. Again.
We play some James Brown, some Primus, some Jazz, some scales, some theory, some exercises, and some more James Brown. My last lesson is done and I dash for the door. 5:30 pm, rush hour traffic. Even in the little town of San Luis Obispo south bound freeway traffic can come to a halt between 5 and 6.
I take the back road to Pismo Beach, grooving to the newly downloaded album, and arrive at the spot at exactly 5:56.
“Hey, we play in four minutes, and I got busted for starting late last week, so let’s hit it,” Says Mike, the drummer.
Laughs are had. Handshakes and welcomes are exchanged. I’m ready to play in 1 minute flat when I hear this news;
“So I forgot my hi-hats.”
Oh yeah, the drummer who’s trying to bust me for running late has forgotten the most important part of his drums. Especially when playing jazz, you’ve simply GOT to have hi-hats! He sets up a make shift version using a large crash cymbal on bottom and a small splash on top, looking like some sort of perverted bird bath or fruit basket. We give him his share of grief and start the gig.
Dave does his typical thing where he counts the song off to himself and expects everyone to just fall in. He does his custom endings and intros that aren’t written and assumes we know what the hell he’s doing. He’s a funny cat. It’s a good thing he shreds on the vibes, or he wouldn’t be getting away with that behavior.
We have a great time, and I actually solicit applause for my bass solos several times throughout the evening, which only re-enforces my already fragile ego. Jake and I order Bicardi and cokes, and we watch in shock as he serves them in pint glasses. And they’re strong. It tastes like Bicardi with a little bit of coke.
The second set plays on it’s own. I think that’s the Bicardi speaking. There’s a nice mixed crowd hanging out at the Sea Venture on a Wednesday night. It’s kid of surprising how happening it really is. Old people, young people, beautiful people, local people and tourist people all mixed up like a spicy jambalaya. A spicy jambalaya that’s way into jazz on a wednesday night.
I get paid at the end of the night, less than I expected, which is a reoccurring theme in my life right now, and pack up my stuff. I have a great conversation with Rick the conga player about some latin stuff, and we both agree that Gonzalo Rubalcaba is the best thing out there right now. I believe the exact term we agreed on was ‘motherfucker’.
Just as quickly as I arrived I depart. The drive home is slow and easy. Another day has been digested, and this one was good.
And new Radiohead album is pretty good too.
