Last week I caught the annual Christmas show of Watkins and the Rapiers.   I recommend seeing them if you get a chance.  A fine bunch of musicians, and a nice guys to boot.  They have a lot of very clever songs,  but one has really stuck with me.   "Are you man enough to say, 'Merry Christmas'".

It seems like every year you hear people starting to complain about "Happy Holidays" vs. "Merry Christmas."   And of course, there will be the obligatory news story about some group complaining about a nativity scene on some public property somewhere.   It's become as much a tradition as leaving cookies for Santa Clause on Christmas Eve.

I don't think anyone intends to offend someone by wishing them Merry Christmas.  If that offends you,  then you don't get it anyway.   We all need to lighten up a little bit and take the greeting with the spirit in which it is intended.

That being said........MERRY CHRISTMAS.

I often remind people to support live local music.  To be honest,  part of that is out of self-preservation.   It's how I make my living, after all.   But there's more to it than that.   Our area has some real treasures.   Every now and again you'll hear, and really experience something that you won't get from some big touring act that doesn't even know what city they're in tonight.

This week,  I had two musical experiences that left me feeling like I was lucky to be there.  

The first was at The Beale Street Cafe.   I play harmonica.  I'm ok,  but I don't claim to be great at it.   Well,  there was a man named Curtis Waterman there who just floored me with what he was playing.  I remember seeing Curtis years ago when I lived in Syracuse.  He had quite a reputation even then.  He recently moved to this area,  and he sat in with me while I did a few songs.  On one song in particular,  I almost couldn't finish because I just wanted to stop singing and playing so I could listen to him.  He got sounds out of the harmonica that I didn't know you could get.  It was really something.   He'll be playing around town with his band Corn Bred.   Do yourself a favor and look for them.

The second experience came a little later the same night.   I stopped by The Flipside to see what was going on at Open Mic.  My friend Connie Deming was there, and she was telling me that she had already done a gig that evening,  so she wasn't entirely feeling like she wanted to sing again.  Well, if Connie is in that room,  there's little chance that her arm isn't going to get twisted to sing,  so she went up.  She did a couple of songs that were great as usual,  then I remembered her performance at the Christmas show I put on last year at Chocolate Bar.  I asked Connie to sing O Holy Night.   The room just changed.   It got very quiet as people realized what was happening.   Connie just got inspired.  While she was singing, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.     She'll be joining Pete Collin and I at House of Hamez on Dec. 21 for our Christmas show this year.  You won't want to miss it.

Here's wishing you get the same kind of experience I was lucky enough to have twice in one night the next time you see someone perform at a different level.

My cousin's husband died suddenly and unexpectedly over the weekend.  He got up early on Saturday and had breakfast with their son.  My cousin slept late that day.  When she got up a couple hours later,  she found him in his chair.  We're all very sad about it.  John was a great guy.

It's another one of those wake-up calls we get from time to time.  The reminder that I wish we didn't need to be reminded of.    So here's my thought for you to ponder:  If you knew that someone you care about wouldn't be here tomorrow,  what would you say to them today?   If you knew you wouldn't be here tomorrow, who would you reach out to today?

Life is precious,  but fragile.  We get busy and wrapped up in our own worlds, but we never know when it is our time, or someone else's time to go.  Why wait?

There are plenty of things I wish were different.  I have wants and desires just like everyone else.  However, a bit of reflection during this holiday reminds me that the really important things in life are just fine.  I am thankful.

Here's hoping that you have every reason to give thanks on Thanksgiving.

Every so often, I send out an email letting people know what I'm up to.  (You can sign up for the list below.)    At the end of the email,  I usually say something like "Support Live, Local music,  or it just might go away."

That statement can mean a couple of things.   One might take it to mean the musicians will stop performing.   That's certainly a real a valid interpretation,  but musicians have been struggling to make it since Oog the Caveman first clunked two rocks together and liked the sound.   

The real endangered species is the music venue itself.  I've been around long enough to see a few favorites come and go.  Canaseraga Hardware & Coffee, Paradigm Cafe, Chocolate Bar, Daily Perks  just to name a few.  Some rise from the ashes as something new, and some just fade away to memories.  They each had their own reasons for closing.  Some were financial,  some had other reasons.  Whatever the reason a venue owner has for closing is their own business.   However,  as a musician,  it makes me sad that there's one less place to play.

Recently,  my friend Georgene announced that Lunahsea Cafe' in Geneseo will be closing at the end of the year.  Again, she her reasons are her own business.   But before she closes the doors,  we're going to bring some great music to the joint.   I used to host a fun open mic there,  and we're going to do one more to send the place off in style.   It's nice to be able to say goodbye. 

Time is a funny thing.  I've played gigs before where it seems like I've barely gotten my guitar out of the case and it's time to pack up.   I've also played gigs that seemed liked they would never end.     I think a lot of that perception has to do with how the audience is reacting to the music.    

I've been thinking a lot about time lately.   In about a week,  I turn 40.  (November 2nd,  in case you're going to go shopping.)    It sort of snuck up on me.   It seems like I was just turning 30,  and now a whole decade is gone.    If you had told me ten years ago that I'd be making my living as a musician,  I don't think I would have believed you.   My goals and dreams were a bit different then.   In another ten years,  I may very well be amazed that I'm doing something completely different than I am now.    Whatever the future holds,  I hope it's a fun ride.

Did you ever see anyone perform who felt they had to introduce every single song they do?   Sometimes,  the introduction is longer than the song itself.  I can't really complain too much about this because there have been times that I've been guilty of it myself.   It does make me think though.   Is the song really communicating the message you want it to if you have to explain it for five minutes before you play it?   I actually like hearing what the inspiration for a song is most of the time,  but I can't stand it when a performer tells you a long story about what inspired the song,  then the song says the exact same thing as the story the performer just told.   

I think that if the audience is left to their own interpretation of what a song means, the chances are better that  they will connect with it more strongly than if the performer spoon feeds them everything.

I've always been impressed with people who write songs easily.   I find it to be a difficult exercise.    I'm pretty good with melodies or coming up with interesting arrangements to other songs,  but lyrics have always given me trouble.

I think it's partially because songs tend to be so personal.   I'm sort of shy by nature,  and it's hard to overcome the anxiety of letting people see into your soul through your songs when you're shy.

Some recent events in my life have brought out some song ideas that were burried somewhere deep in my mind.   Whether or not the songs ever see the light of day remains to be seen,  but I'm at least working on them.

Have you ever been listening to the radio when a song comes on that takes you back to a place or time in your life that you wouldn't have thought about if not for that song?     Songs can do that.   The associative properties they have are powerful.

"If You Leave Me Now"  by Chicago always makes me think of the roller skating parties they'd have at the school when I was in 5th or 6th grade.   For some reason,  they always played that one when it was a couples skate.   "Purple Rain", by Prince takes me back to high school in an instant.     Then of course,  there are the songs that remind me of "her."    "Her"  is different for each song.  Sometimes the memories are wonderful,  sometimes they're painful.   You probably have a "her"  or maybe a "him"  that you think of when that special song pops up on the radio.

As a musician,  I find that certain songs become difficult to perform if I've associated them with someone too strongly.   I get to thinking about things other than the performance,  and I mess up.   Occasionally I even take them off my set list altogether for a while.   Other times,  doing that special song is just what I need to get me inspired.

Here's to hoping that when that one song comes on the radio,  the memories it brings to mind are pleasant ones.