Catching Lightning in a Bottle, or The Birth of a Band

The Fretknot Friday open mic at the Independence Tap (on Irving Park Road) is becoming quite a project.  Kip Plourde, the host/soundman, has worked tirelessly over the past three years to make Fretknot Friday a success.  This past Friday there were 18 names on the sign-up sheet.  At the end of a work week, something like Fretknot Friday is a great diversion, an opportunity to meet up with friends and catch some live music.

Number four on the sign-up list this past Friday was Mike Mann, but Mike wasn't content to play by himself.  He proceded to round up an impromptu band - Ed Johnson on bass, John Mead on guitar, and me on drums.  At the last minute he invited Andrea Bunch for additional vocals.  The set list was only three songs, and that was subject to change up to the point we took the stage.  (Which, to those not familiar with open mics, is rather common.  Open mics are trying times, "trying" in the sense of trotting out a new song, or inviting some friends to come up and play with you, or getting on stage for the first time - trying your stage persona.)

So we played three songs, all of which we were pretty much familar with - Fred Neil's "The Other Side of This Life," an original of Mike's, "Seattle," and an old blues standard the title and origin of which I'm not familiar with, but I know the hook line is "I'm seeing double / In a whole lot of trouble."  (Mike - fill me in!)

So we played.  I can't remember the last time I played with a group of people who weren't glued to the song book.  Mike was in charge the whole time, singing, playing guitar, and calling chord changes to John ("Four!  One!")  and checking on Ed and me to make sure we knew the changes and tag endings.  He was Peyton Manning with a twelve-string. 

And it all came together - perhaps better than anyone expected.  We were reading each other the entire set, a constant exercise in communication among the musicians - often wordless - that made the performance work.  For example, on the last song John took a lead over the verse, and Mike gave him the go-ahead to take another verse.  Seeing that, I thought "Hm.  The solo goes on.  Ratchet up the drums a bit."  Andrea's sense of anticipating (and finding) the right times to come in with supporting vocals and incidental tambourine was dead-on, and Ed was as solid on bass as could be.

I like to think that we may have seen the birth of a band at that point (which is all I need - another band to play in).  I heard the phrase "twelve-minute band" after our set, and the name made sense to me.  It took Mike about twelve minutes to come up with a band, and our set was twelve minutes. 

So I don't know if the five of us will play again as a unit, but it may not matter.  The memory of that set - of five people being in the moment, of someone (or a group of someones) finding that deep-down whatever that that eliminates everything else but that moment - will last for quite some time.

And maybe that's why I continue to hit things.