Ice Ice Baby

I began the week with a pretty good idea of what the schedule would be.  Of course, that was before it completely changed.

When Russ called one night from Belfast (Northern Ireland), I was asking about his schedule and mentioned that we should coordinate with Jay to record our duet.  The next thing I knew, flights were being redirected, plans were changed, and instead of driving to NYC, I was to remain in the Buffalo area to record on Thursday.

Me, Jay, Joey, Russell

In the middle of it all was the "Ice Bucket Challenge."  Ok Fine...

click here for ALSA.org - It's easy to donate... Just click "donate" and follow instructions

Then came the call for next week's gigs, so there was the scramble to learn songs and get hair done (thank you Leon!!!).  Then there was the gig in Jersey on Saturday and recording on Sunday.  Oh, did I mention that a bat got in the house?

What do I take away from it all?

Go with the flow.

:)

Have a beautifully flowing week.  I hope the water's not too cold.

Namaste,

T

Little Shows: Big Impressions

People like to ask about gigs, especially ones with famous people or high-profile gigs.  “What was that like?” often gets asked of shows involving the President or television.  The answer is usually along the lines of how while that particular gig was a lot of fun and it was an honor to be a part of it, it was also very work intensive and usually in those types of situations one isn’t really afforded the opportunity to be “star-struck.”  You might have fifty songs to learn and you are very much focused on playing or singing your parts correctly and not so much on the fact that Stevie Wonder is standing in front you.  I mean, if Stevie Wonder is standing in front of you – you’d better be singing his song correctly right?  You might feel the same way if your boss’s boss’s boss, or the president of your company, was going to be evaluating you at work to see if you were working effectively, and your performance might mean a very big promotion for you.  It wouldn’t be anything at all like running into J-Lo or Prince at the supermarket.  (Did I just use J-Lo and Prince in the same sentence?)

That being said, there may be some moments when you can step back and appreciate the significance of the job at hand.  Maybe it’s a pause at rehearsal on stage underneath the Presidential emblem – or when you first set foot on the lighted American Idol set.  You may look around for a moment, taking it all in, and think “wow.”  Then it’s back to work, “pencils ready” or “eyes on your own paper” or something like that.

More often though, those special and most meaningful moments take place when people don’t often expect.  “Regular” or smaller shows could have just as much, if not more, of an impact.  Anything could happen at any point in time.  Suddenly, I am reminded of that song, “What If God Were One of Us.”  (Which Cheryl Pepsii Riley sings the CRAP out of BTW – but I digress.)  In it, the singer asks the question and probes the idea that God himself might be a stranger sitting next to us on the bus.  What if the single most significant thing we do in our whole life is to comfort a crying child who might be lost, or help an elderly woman across the street?  Or actually dial the number and become a sponsor when that “Feed the Children” infomercial comes on?

Last week, Russell and I played at a holiday party and I was blown away by a story I heard there.  It was for TSO (Transplant Support Organization) and it was just Russell and me with an amp and a keyboard (plus a guest guitarist and accordionist for a few songs).  The crowd consisted of about 90 people who had in some way been affected by organ donation.  Some were organ recipients and their family members.  Some were living donors.  Some were health care professionals and some had lost a loved one who had become an organ donor.  All were celebrating life and were joined by the common purpose of promoting donation awareness.  There were even a few politicians in attendance.  The organization’s president conveyed a story about one family’s experience.

In the story, two parents had been regularly bringing their daughter (we’ll call her Katie) to the hospital for kidney dialysis.  Often times, they would drop her off then go to the diner across the street for some lunch during their wait.  Eventually, they came to know the waitress and staff there at that little diner.  One day their waitress asked why it was that they came in so regularly.  After explaining that their daughter was at the hospital for dialysis and that only death or a kidney transplant would make her need for that treatment change – the waitress immediately said that she would be happy to give their daughter one of her kidneys!!!  After being tested and discovering that she was in fact a match, that is EXACTLY what she did!  Katie now sat at a table before us at the holiday party, nodding at the truth of how she received her new kidney.  It was unbelievable.  The speaker went on to say that the waitress had been here in the U.S. because her husband had to travel here for work.  She had never really wanted to leave her home in South America and had sometimes wondered what she was doing here at all.  After donating one of her kidneys to Katie, she felt her sense of purpose become clear.  She was here in the U.S. just so that she would meet them and help save Katie’s life.  She moved back to South America shortly thereafter, satisfied that she had accomplished her previously unknown task.

Take a deep breath in… exhale, OK.  HOW AMAZING IS THAT!?  Furthermore, if that waitress can donate one of her kidneys to a complete stranger without hesitation, why do we find it too much of a burden to donate our extra change to the guy ringing the bell outside the supermarket?  Why do we never seem to be able to find the time to spend a couple of hours volunteering for a cause that we think is important or spend quality time with a child we might know who could use some practice catching a baseball or some help with their homework?  Why do we hardly ever donate that dollar to the Make-a-Wish table at the mall or put that extra five bucks in with our heating bill to help someone cold?  Why do we just write a check for ten bucks two times a year when we attend church at Christmas and Easter?  (You know you do that…)

At the VERY least… why don’t we sign the back of our driver’s license and tell our family that in the event we or they (on our behalf) have the opportunity to save someone’s life through organ donation (after we are already gone), that we would like to do so???  Isn’t that the very LEAST we could do (I mean, we’re dead right?) and yet isn’t it also the very MOST we could do for someone else?

I have an idea… Let’s all find a New Year’s resolution this year that makes sense.  Maybe we can all try to be at least a little bit like our favorite South American waitress.  How about if we find SOMETHING to do for someone else – and actually DO IT, even if it’s as simple as signing our driver's license?

P.S.

That little show was a good one.  J

More info:

http://www.transplantsupport.org/faqs.html

cake photo by Danielle Graham

UPDATE 12-12-11:

I have just learned that signing the back of your driver's license is no longer the most up-to-date or efficient way to indicate your desire to be an organ donor.  The Transplant Support Organization is encouraging people to enroll in their state's "Donate Life Registry."  Click here: http://donatelife.net/ to find simple, easy ways to register in your state.

#GigsGoneWrong

Here’s a text message I sent to Russ about how a gig was going recently.  There are three things you should know:  1.) Russ is my husband and fellow musician.  2.) “Jeeves” is my GPS navigator.  3.) Names have been changed to protect the “not so innocent.”

“At dead end, Jeeves told me to make a left… then no mic cuz no outlet, then no monitors, then car would’ve got ticket if Little Sam didn’t move – now I gotta pay him to figure out where the hell he put it”

Russ responded:

“Lovely.  Can you pay him in pistachios?”

-------------------------------

This is not an unusual conversation for us.  In fact, the whole experience was not that unusual. 

It all started just prior to a seven-hour car ride from Buffalo.  Because we were crunched for time, I asked Russ to create a playlist for me on my iPod with the songs I needed to learn for that weekend’s show.  I would listen while driving.  We were both driving from Buffalo to the NYC area, but in two separate cars.  He based the playlist on the email I had received containing gig info, and was going to also include some additional songs I mentioned.  Shortly into the drive I realized that four songs were missing from the playlist.  Luckily, they were already on my iPod so creating another “On The Go” list from the road was not too difficult.  I could have done it while driving – although I am NOT saying that THAT is what I did.

After the long drive and the unpacking of car, walking of dogs, and sketchy sleeping… after the waking up groggy and hunting for food because of an empty fridge and no coffee, getting ready for the gig was even more hectic than usual.  It always takes longer when you have to dig through your suitcase to find every little thing you need and have to unpack and repack your gig bag and find your damn shoes and winter coat.  I was running late so I asked Russ for help again.  He printed my gig directions and transferred my song lyrics from iPod to iPad (thanks Russ).  Finally I was out the door.

Of COURSE there was a questionable amount of gas in the car (I’d probably make it to the gig – but all the way back home? – Would there be a gas station near the venue?)  I had recently run out of gas on the way home from a gig in Jersey because there were NO gas stations open nearby at that hour, and I didn’t want to go through THAT again!  I stopped at the bottom of the Palisades for cheap gas.  There was hardly a line!  Great!  While the guy was filling the tank I glanced at the directions Russ had printed (I had been using my navigator, Jeeves, until then).  To my horror they directed me nowhere near where I was.  How could they vary so wildly from Jeeves?!?!  I called Russ.

Russ said, “Oh yeah… The shortest route could lead you straight into traffic where you could be sitting for hours, so I chose a different route avoiding all of that.”  Great.  Now I was stuck on the route with all of the potential traffic jam-ups.  I felt the blood rush to my chest in a bout of undue stress.  I asked Russ to read me the gig email (which there was no time to print because my computer ran out of battery just as I was walking out the door) to make sure there was nothing ELSE I might’ve missed.

Argh!  There was another song listed in the email that I hadn’t listened to!  What was THAT?!?!  Russ said it had a male lead vocal and he hadn’t thought I needed it when he made the playlist.  “But there may be important background vocals!”  I was getting exasperated.  Fine.  He emailed me a YouTube link to the song to view once I got to the gig.  I should’ve put together my own playlist anyway.  I was more annoyed that Russ hadn’t walked the dogs yet.  (And Russ turned out to be right about the song… I hadn’t needed it… but don’t tell HIM that OK?)

Traffic was light throughout the city, so I was doing fine on time.  I wasn’t even really that concerned when I missed my exit and ended up on local residential roads in a totally unfamiliar area.  It wasn’t until I came to a complete stop at a dead end facing the water and heard Jeeves say, “make a left here” that I started to panic again.  “JEEVES!” I said out loud, “You are just WRONG.”  I turned the car around, ignoring Jeeves’ attempts to get me to “turn around when possible.”  Glancing at the clock, I realized I was still doing fine on time and relaxed.  I kept driving until a “recalculation” led me to the venue, and after a couple of u-turns trying to figure out how the hell to access the parking lot, I pulled up to the valet guys.

They told me to park along the side of the building, next to the dumpsters, and things were looking up when I got the last parking spot there.  Never mind the way the horn player drove up behind me, rolled down his window and informed me that I was no longer his friend for taking that last spot.  J  I unloaded my mic, stand and gig bag and headed inside after knocking on the window of the car next to me, where the male vocalist was listening to his songs, and making him jump.  I smiled after successfully scaring him.  (This particular group I work with is full of old friends who banter constantly and make things extra fun.)  We both laughed and I trudged up the ramp toward the front doors of the venue.

Once inside, I set up my equipment, said hello to the other female lead vocalist (who is very nice and whom I hadn’t seen in years), changed my shoes, put the bags away and got ready to sing.  When the sound guy/guitar player asked me to check my mic and it didn’t work, I noticed that there was no power running to the wireless receiver.  The kid helping out (Little Sam) said there was a bad outlet.  There was no time for anyone to run out to the car where the spare power strip was.  “Use this.”  The bandleader handed me an extra cordless mic.  Why did I even bring my mic if there was already an extra one here?  It didn’t matter.  Someone said, “Go Tan!” while playing a “B” and I started singing “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.” 

It was then that we realized that the monitors (speakers for the band and vocalists to hear themselves) weren’t working.  “Oh yeah,” the sound guy said, “They’re not working.  I don’t know what’s wrong with them.”  Good times, good times.  I smiled as I remembered that I just recently retweeted a Twitter post, under the trend #gigsgonewrong, about a sketchy monitor system (I had added, “What monitors!!?? LOL”).

Oh well.  I was still having fun.  I didn’t even mind when the extra mic ran out of battery or when the bandleader accidentally introduced the newlyweds while the parents were entering the room and my rendition of “This Will Be” was rudely interrupted by the protest of several hundred people and we had to do a “do over.”  (This was actually not as big a deal as it sounds here.)  It wasn’t even a big deal when someone told me they had to move my car because the Sheriff was outside ready to give the whole band tickets for parking near the dumpsters.  It was fine.  I just handed over my keys to Little Sam who moved the car.

When the keys were returned and I was told I didn’t get a ticket and that the car was now safely parked “way on the other side” (probably two miles away – God know where), I said to the male vocalist: “Wait a minute… he’s gonna get it for me at the end of the night right?”  He just laughed.  Then I said, “Wait a minute… I don’t have to TIP him do I!?”  (More laughter.)  Then I asked, “How am I even going to FIND the car at the end of the night!?”  He replied, with more laughter still, “That’s why you gotta pay him!”  (This was followed by cackles of laughter.)  GAW!!!  Fine.  During the break, I asked Little Sam if he would accept payment in gum. J  He seemed intrigued by the idea so I had high hopes that I would get off easily.  (Even though I knew that I only had one stale piece of gum in my purse.)

The broken glass on the floor (dropped by guests), the drunken girls who seemed to be flirting and flashing us, the busted ear drum I had from walking in front of the speaker just as the bandleader yelled something – none of it really bothered me.  Every crazy thing gone wrong only seemed to add to the charm of the evening.  The band was doing a great job despite everything (even the drummer’s sprained ankle) and the people were having a wonderful time.  The event was a smashing success!  Everyone LOVED the band and we ate well.  We even were served salad and dessert in addition to our choice of entrées (a MAJOR gig plus if you ask me)!  All of my bandmates were jovial and the whole gig was great fun!  I even stayed around for an hour after the show talking and listening to the others’ original music/videos.  I even gave Little Sam five bucks for helping with the car. J

Over the years, there’ve been many #gigsgonewrong.  Some were REALLY wrong.  There was the time my boyfriend left with another girl, and the time I threw up into a paper bag during a guitar solo (stomach virus, not alcohol).  This was the same gig where I let the bass player drive my car and I thought he was going to kill us.  He SAID he had a license, but I don’t know.  There was the time the drummer didn’t show up because he was in JAIL, there was the one where I had pneumonia and gargled with lidocaine to get through it, and the time the sound truck broke down and we arrived at the venue to find that the hotel manager, who hired us, had broken out in stress hives by the time the speakers arrived on the back of a tow truck.  There was the time *I* arrived by tow truck!  I could go on and on here… I mean, how about when the bi-polar bass player didn’t take his meds and told the corporate client that she was a f’n c#%! then went on a rampage knocking things over?  There are plenty more examples of #gigsgonewrong, but I digress.

The point is…. (am I EVER going to get one?)  The point is that these crazy things happen often.  Most of the time, nobody in the audience even realizes, and we have a great show!  Here’s another point: if you want quiet predictability, DON’T be a musician – or even in business for yourself at all for that matter.  Remember the movie “Parenthood?”  This is a “rollercoaster ride.”  Buckle up baby, and as Robbie (from the studio) says, “Have FUN!”