The Sunday Musician

"Whatta week." 

Long, busy, fruitful week for me--my apologies for not blogging.  First of all, big news:  I'm opening my own teaching studio.  Not only was this a large-type decision to make (I've been teaching out of a music store), but I ran around a lot looking at spaces to lease, crunching (or at least softly kneading) numbers. etc., trying to figure it all out.  Lots of lying awake at night.   

Anyway, it's all done, and I found a wonderful space for a ridiculously low price.

AND...Molly lost her voice last week, two days before we were scheduled to entertain on Friday night.  After a bunch of phone calls, I actually managed to put together a wonderful group of guys to play--musicians I highly respect, guys I've played with over the years, but never all together.  No rehearsal, we just walked in, set up, and counted in.  I played the electrical guitar, and had to work hard to keep up.  Wow, did I have fun. 

We entertained at the year-end banquet for the Douglas Dutchers Vintage Baseball team, and a better slice-of-America you'll never find.  The banquet room at the West Shore Golf Club was suitably ancient and stained, the food was utterly delicious, and the parking lot was pitch black.  I had this conversation with Danny the Drummer, on my cell phone:

 

Danny:  So...I see the sign for the golf course, but where's the driveway?

Me:  I can see your tail lights--you're pointed the wrong way.

Danny:  I'm backing up now...turning around...am I going the right way now?

 

The day before, sitting with Helen, the president of the team as she gave orders for setting up table decorations:

Helen: (to her husband) Ron, no!  Don't put the little wicker cornucopias out until they've been filled.  Sheesh.  Where are you going?  Come back here and help me think of the names of the people that go at the head table.

Ron:  (bib overalls and heavy eye-rolling behind her back)   Did you get Wizard?

Helen:  Yes, I got him.

Ron:  Outlaw?

Helen:  I told you I got him already. 

Ron:  John?

Helen:  Yeah.

Ron:  Paul?

Helen:  Yeah.

Ron:  (under his breath, and with a wink to me) Peter, Paul and the other apostles?

 

Helen announcing the order in which the tables (all ten of them...) will walk through the food line:

Helen:  The head table will go first, then the rest of you--starting with you guys (pointing) and then you guys in the back will go last.

Woman in the Back:  Can't we go first?  My husband gets cranky when we have to wait to eat.

Helen:  I'm sorry, but it was your choice to marry him.

They managed to exercise a sense of formality and ceremony that was un-selfconcious, self-deprecating and hilarious.  The boys and I played an hour and a half, people danced, and I was out of there by midnight.  I'm pretty sure the four of us will never play together again.  It was a lining-up of the planets.  As we were packing up, Rich the Bass Player introduced me to a guy named Steve who plays on the league.  Steve apparently used to be a highly-in-demand sound guy, working with the likes of Led Zepellin and other big names.  He and Rich, both in their fifties, now donate their talents to the Douglas Community Church on Sunday mornings. 

Another big week coming up as I start painting and preparing the studio, get some advertising going, navigate the sure-to-be-tricky waters of leaving the music store, and try and set myself up to take credit cards. 

Stay tune-Ed.