I played guitar for someone the other night while she sang.  It wasn't exactly the first time she's sung in public,  but it isn't something she does regularly,  so she was a bit nervous.   I told her to get over it.   After a song or two,  she relaxed and everything was just fine.    It got me thinking though about the first time I performed in public.  I was in the high school musical.   I didn't have a major role,  but I had a few lines and had to sing a song or two.   I just about puked before going on stage.

If you ever take a public speaking course,  the first thing they will tell you is that most people fear public speaking more than they fear death.  Personally,  I think that's a line of B.S.  someone made up to sell more public speaking courses,   but the underlying theme isn't lost on me.   Getting up in front of a group of people who are all looking at you and waiting for you to do something can be nerve wracking.  Nobody really wants to be judged.    The thing to realize is that we're often our own worst critics.  Most audiences aren't going to notice minor mistakes anyway, and are pretty forgiving if they do.

The important thing is to give it a try.

The other night,  I did an acoustic gig.   I don't mean I used my acoustic guitar as opposed to an electric.    I mean no amp,  no microphone, no gadgets.  I played for a group of people who had spent the day hiking in the woods.   The gig was at a small cabin in the woods playing for about a dozen people.   We sat around the wood stove with oil lamps and candles.   It was very intimate. 

I got to thinking about how important music must have been before TV and X-box and the internet,  or even the family radio.  A few generations ago,  before every teenager had his own SUV to drive,  and his own cell phone,  or his own wireless laptop,  the family sat in the parlor together while someone played guitar or piano or violin.  Not only was it a form of entertainment,  it was a way for families to bond and enjoy a common experience.   I think the average kid today would look at you like you had three heads if you suggested that some evening you turn off the TV, computer, cell phone, playstation, and ipod  while you all sit in the living room and listen to Uncle Ed play the accordion.

I don't have any delusions that I'm going to ever be world famous as a musician.  I've achieved a modest amount of success on a local level,  and I'm enjoying it like crazy.   I'd like to be just a little bit bigger,  however.   Just enough to have some roadies.  

Lately most of my gigs have ended relatively early in the evening,  and packing up isn't a big deal.  Last night,  I had a late one.   The first late one I've had in a while as a matter of fact.   As I was winding up cords and lifting heavy equipment,  I was thinking how nice it would be to finish playing,  then walk off stage and know that a crew of roadies was going to take care of everything while I go relax and flirt with the waitresses.

I've been thinking about Springtime.  It's really my favorite time of year.  Everything is so full of promise.   The days get longer,  the weather gets warmer, and that dull brown starts turning to green.  

As I look at the calendar,  the thing that hits me this year is that I haven't booked many gigs for the springtime yet.  I've been very fortunate so far this year to have a number of places that have booked me on a regular basis.   The Brown Hound, Club 57, The Sierra Inn,  and The Rabbit Room have been good to me,  and I'm grateful for it.  Still,  the actual booking of dates is my least favorite part of what I do.  It's kind of like going on a never ending job interview.   I suppose that's the incentive for me to give it my best every time I play.   Well,  time to make some calls.

I had an interesting gig last weekend.  Without boring you with too many details,  there was a little bit of trouble with some of the people in the place I was playing.   No fight broke out,  but there was a lot of shouting and tension in the air.   The owner ended up throwing out this group of troublemakers.

As a performer,  it raised an interesting question for me.   What do I do?   I felt kind of dumb continuing to sing and play while all of this is happening five feet away from me.    At the same time,  I felt like if the music suddenly stopped,  it would have drawn more attention to the matter and possibly would have disturbed more of the patrons than had already been disturbed.  

Last week I stopped by the Flipside's open mic night.   There was a guy playing guitar behind someone who was singing.   I commented to Jeff Riales how tasty his playing was.   They guy obviously has some serious chops,  but he wasn't at all flashy about it.  Very understated and restrained.   Jeff replied,  "He must know the old addage:  Never miss an opportunity to not play."

Man,  does that make sense to me.   I wish more people understood that its ok to not play every single beat of every single measure in a song.   I think some people get nervous or uncomfortable if they're on stage and they're not doing something.    I think a lot of that comes from the Jam Band scene where everyone is playing all at the same time for long periods of time.   I've written before that I don't have much use for that.    I prefer the old jazz tradition where everyone gets a chance to show what they've got,  but they're not stepping all over each other all the time.   A few well placed spaces can be more powerful than a flurry of notes.