From Zeppelin and Yvonne Elliman to Rachmaninoff in 24 hours

Sometimes my favorite weekends are the ones that are the most incongruous.  Judy and I had something like that about a year ago in Toronto when we went to the Hockey Hall of Fame in the afternoon and heard Colin Carr play the Bach Suite for Solo Cello in the evening.

This weekend was something like that.  I had a gig on Friday playing for two Old Town School ensembles.  The first was Led Zeppelin Acoustic, um, led by Richard Pettengill.  It was flattering for him to ask, and it was a great opportunity for me to play some music I've always liked. We led off with "Ramble On" and covered five or six other tunes, two of which I sat out entirely: "That's the Way" and "Going to California." 

At one point, during "The Rain Song" (one of my favorite Led Zeppelin songs), I heard a cheer from the folks there.  "Wow, they must really enjoy us!"  It gives a musician - or me, anyway - some pleasure in knowing that people like your performance and react to it.  More disheartening, however, was later learning that the cheering was for a goal that the Blackhawks scored against San Jose, and most of the people there were watching the Hawks play rather than to listen to the music.

I think that may have been some sort of cosmic payback.  As an undergraduate in Akron I went out with some friends and we were listening to a cover band (you could tell they were serious - matching outfits and all that) when I and others let out a whoop mid-song.  Sure, the music was good, but Len Barker had finished a perfect game against Toronto, and the moment was captured on the big screen TV in the corner.  Not only was it a historic moment, it was a Cleveland Indians victory, and those were rare enough to warrant celebration regardless of who was playing.

In all, though, the set went well.  I returned after dropping Judy home (she just can't party like she used to) and then played the disco set. 

Talk about a struggle, and I don't think it was just me.  The venue, Moe's Tavern, is not very friendly in terms of acoustics.  The stage is rather small, so we have several people crammed into a small space. Some of our group were playing beside the stage.  On top of that, we were loud - very loud.  For the first time, I played with ear plugs, and I found that to be a major benefit.  I could feel the bass in my chest, a sign that things may be too loud for me. "Stayin' Alive" and "Dancing Queen" went well, but I noticed that my left arm was feeling rather sore.  "Great.  How am I going to get through this set?"

I had an inkling when we started "If I Can't Have You" that the song wouldn't go well.  Unfortunately, I was right.  I blame the acoustics - we played it rather well in practice the night before!  Still, there's enough rhythmic cross-ups to keep us on our toes.  We wobbled, we pulled through, we found our footing, we wobbled again. 

We pulled through the last two songs, and by then I felt that I was hanging on by a thread.  My left arm was hurting, so I tried an "open grip" method of playing the hi-hat with the left hand and playing the snare with the right.  (To see somebody do that really well, check out Return to Forever's Lenny White on "Medieval Overture," at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjOYscEN6Qc.)  And the strobe light effect didn't help me either.  I was playing with ear plugs, my eyes half-closed - a bit too cloistered for my own good. 

The set was over, I gathered my things, got in the car, and drove home.  My left elbow was throbbing, I was unsure about my performance, so when I got home I sat on the couch and did a decompression of sorts. 

Saturday I woke up, tried to stretch my arm, and thought "Is this what Sandy Koufax went through his last few years with the Dodgers?"  Every little stretch or movement hurt.  "Okay," I thought, "it may be time to play guitar for a few days.  Or weeks.  Time to rest up."

Judy had planned a "date day" for me, so we went to the Garfield Park Conservatory (the smell of ferns and plants is sorely missed and greatly appreciated in late February), then to Hyde Park where we heard some excellent choral music by the Rockefeller Chapel Choir.  The featured piece was Rachmaninoff's "Vespers."  The choir sang in the back balcony as the audience focused on a piece of art on the altar.  How to describe - two sliver-shaped pieces stood about ten or fifteen feet from each other, and as the piece started, a light emerged from each piece - one at the top of the piece on the left, the other at the bottom of the piece on the right.  During the piece the two points of light inched upwards or downwards, making the piece look like the passing of a full moon during the night.  Given that "Vespers" is a piece of sacred music reflecting a night vigil, the piece was quite effective as a visual accompaniment.

Two of the early pieces in the set were also quite moving.  "Water Night" by Eric Whitacre had some drop-dead beautiful passages, and there was also a piece, premiered that night, which also struck me.  "Marta Niegs" ("March Snow") was composed by Katherine Pukinskis, with text by Latvian poet Zinaida Lazda.  I was fortunate enough to meet Katherine after the show and told her how I liked her piece.  She is only 26, and I can't imagine anyone that young composing such beautiful music.  I'm not sure it's fitting to say in the world of choral music, but I'll say it anyway: the kid's got chops.  Classical music, like jazz, takes an incredible work ethic, and I'm impressed by anyone who has that degree of dedication.  I've become a fan of Katherine and wish her the best. 

So, from Led Zeppelin and disco to choral music in 24 hours.  After a night of one, I sure needed the other.  And the arm?  Well, we'll give it a few more days.  Just don't ask me to pitch batting practice anytime soon.