Gigs, memory, and the harsh proof of the MP3

As if fighting a cold and putting in a 55-hour week at work this week wasn't enough, I played a mini-gig Friday at the Old Town School, and a full gig with the MTV Ensemble at the Independence Tap last night.  And today I'm feeling every bit my age.

The Friday giglet went well.  I played with the Disco Ensemble, and we did justice to "Stayin' Alive," "Dancing Queen," and the Emotions' "Best of My Love."  The first two songs were treated as a medley and the segue went flawlessly, a bit of a surprise to me.  One of the singers had a small mirrored ball that she put on the floor in front of the stage.  It reminded me of Stonehenge in "Spinal Tap" - way undersized and still charming in an underwhelming sense.

I also sat in on the Roots of Rock ensemble.  The first song was "Hound Dog," done in the original Big Mama Thornton bluesy vein rather than the Elvis rockabilly way.  The second, "One Night," was done in the Elvis way, and I made one big flub during the song that taught me something (albeit a bit late, but isn't that always the way?) - stay within yourself.  I think I found myself trying to do too much and got crossed up.  I recovered, but the yell of frustration was quite audible: "Arrgghh!"  The final was a medley of "My Baby Left Me" and "That's All Right."  I was able to read the songs and players well, and that was one fun romp.  So much so that fellow Twangdog Quincy came up to me and said "We have to put that in our set!  It's got my vote!"

"It's got two of mine!" I said.  So the set, and the night, ended on a high note for me, and I'm a bit excited to bring some good ol' two-step rompers into the Twangdogs set.  We could have a blast with that.

Last night the MTV Ensemble ended its year-long run with a set that was shaky in some spots, but in the end we all connected.  Our set was pushed to the last of three acts - the first band were a heavy metal outfit that were loud and rather competent, but I didn't hear anything in the music that really grabbed me.  The second group, including some folks I've seen at the Old Town School, were competent and surprisingly quiet.  Still, the set ran a bit long, leaving us to scramble to set up.  I got the drums up in about five or seven minutes and waited for all the others to get set.  It's odd - the drums take less time to set up than some guitar setups. 

The set started with Madonna's "Borderline" and The Human League's "Don't You Want Me" - two songs that involve incessant beating on the high-hat.  By the end of the second song I was starting to feel the effects.  The closest thing to a ballad was "Don't Dream It's Over."  So, even though there were some clunker moments during the set, and a constant struggle with hearing the singers ("Edge of Seventeen" was an exercise in flying blind, and "West End Girls" seemed to go in all different directions), there were some good efforts.  "A Million Miles Away" went without a hitch, "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic" went surprising well, especially since John was savvy enough to print up a to-the-word chart.  I was thrilled - it was finally my chance to be Stewart Copeland.  Perhaps the best moment was the intro, after the little high-hat flourish and the keyboards came in - the audience cheered its approval.  (One can imagine Brubeck hearing the audience on the opening of "Blue Rondo a la Turk" and "Take Five" - who could get tired of that?)  Pat Benatar's "We Belong," handed so ably by Cathy Goodman on vocals, put John in a much calmer mood.  We finished off the second set with another tough one (for me, anyway), Duran Duran's "Rio", and for our "encore" we played two of the dumber songs in our repertoire: "Jessie's Girl" and "Addicted to Love."  For "Addicted" I kicked off with the drums, and there was an "ah!" of recognition and, one hopes, anticipation.  I never had that kind of reaction and for a fraction of a second I thought "this is why people play music."  If you've never felt a rush of adrenaline at a moment like that you've either been playing music too long or you have felt it but might be too cool to admit it.  It all worked - half the ensemble was doing that pivot dance that the women did in the original video, there were no blown chords, the stops and starts were on spot.  We left the audience happy and yelling for more - more Stevie Nicks, especially. 

It made for a long night, though - Judy and I dropped off the drums at 6.30, went to dinner, and packed up the drums at around 12.30.  And now, as I write this, the evidence comes in - the mp3 files.  It's amazing how one's memory can change things from just fifteen hours ago.  To be fair, it's one microphone recording all of us in a less-than-accomodating room, so it's hardly state-of-the-art recording.  (I am in dire need of a bass drum microphone), but as Ralph Towner said, the tape recorder doesn't lie - neither do mp3 files.  And so the examining, the critical listening, the combing over every bar, beat, crash and fill begins.  The unexamined life, as Plato said, may not be worth living, but why does the examination have to be so darn deflating?