This is supposed to be my music website, but we're quickly approaching April 15.   If you're an American,  you know what that means:  tax day.   I finished figuring my taxes last night,  and I'm not happy about it. 

I have a proposal:  At every level of government,  any proposal for an expense must be accompanied by a figure of what it will cost the individual taxpayer.   The numbers that we get now are so huge that they don't mean anything to the average guy,  and we tend to tune them out.  "Two billion for a transportation bill?   Sure,  go ahead."     But if they came to you and said, "Hey Joe, we need $85 from you to put up a sign announcing that this highway is named after your congressman," you'd start to question the necessity of things a little more.

OK,  give me a day or two to stew about it,  then I'll post something a little cheerier.

Compliments have always been difficult for me.  Not giving them, but receiving them.  I used to discount them until someone once called me on it.  "Take a compliment, you jerk!"    So I learned to say a gracious thank you instead of pointing out to the complimenter what was wrong with their statement.  

Well,  "thank you"  just replaced some self depricating remark,  but I didn't always really consider what was in the compliment.   Then the other night,  someone whom I respect considerably paid me a compliment that really blew me away.   It was more than just the basic, "hey you sound good"    He really took the time to consider what he was saying,  and I have to tell you,  I was touched.

I'm not going to write what was said, or who said it.   But if you're reading this,  I hope you'll consider what it could mean to someone to pay them a genuine, considered compliment from the heart.

For the past several months,  I've been very fortunate to have two, three,  or even four gigs a week.  Recently,  someone who lives in Rochester asked me how come I never play out anymore.   I looked at them like they had three heads.  I've been busier than ever.   Then I realized,  I haven't played a gig in Rochester in Months.   With the exception of a couple of times in Honeoye Falls, which is closer to Livingston County,   I haven't even played in Monroe County for a public gig since last October.

     Although I don't have much in the way or Rochester appearances on my calendar right now,   W.B. Blues recently finished a demo cd,  and we hope to use it to get some gigs in Rochester.    Don't get me wrong,  I'm grateful for all the work I've had in the southern tier in the last half year or so,  but it would be nice to get a little exposure in the city too.

 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.