From Donna Summer to Bach in 48 hours

This was another week that ran the gamut in terms of musical styles.  Monday was practice with the Twangdogs minus Janna, who somehow scratched her cornea and was out.  (The woes continued the next day when Jack, our guitarist/bassist/electric banjo player, lopped off the very tip of a finger when a door closed on it and is out four weeks.  We're Chicago's only band with an injured reserve list.)

Wednesday was the "Bad Boys" practice, and we focused on Al Green tunes.  In it we (hopefully) learned that in songs that can meander over a two-chord pattern, learning to play different chord shapes, rhythm patterns, or just dropping out for bars at a time is an admirable goal.  As our instructor John Mead said, "You know the chords.  Now it's a matter of when to play them."  Drummers can even face that challenge - when to do a fill, or a rim-click, or just hi-hat.  One of the more enjoyable tasks for me, when drumming, is to see how many sounds I can get from a drum kit.  Such discoveries come in handy when trying to vary the sound as much as possible within a lengthy jam.

The Disco ensemble on Thursday is an example of that.  Donna Summer's "Love to Love You Baby" went to some 12-15 minutes in our hands, and still fell short of the original 17 minutes on record.  It allowed Cathy Goodman to do some rather humorous improvising on vocals as well (just how many times can someone repeat "Love to Love You Baby" and make it sound interesting?).  So what do I do?  This is pretty much a hi-hat-and-bass-drum song, and I have to find some way to keep things moving.  Who knew disco could be so difficult?

On "Shame Shame Shame," Cathy and Joe Grandolfo shared vocals (Joe's voice nowhere near the falsetto on the original, thank the Lord) and did the bump during the instrumental passages.  It's an image that keeps my eyes glued to the snare drum.  The dance is goofy, not exactly fluid, but if I watch too long I start laughing and everything gets thrown off.

Now - where does Bach come in to all this?  Saturday Judy and I went to the Chicago Symphony and heard them perform "Mass in B Minor."  The pre-concert lecture was done by a Stephen Alltop, professor of music at Northwestern as well as conductor.  (Find out about him at http://www.stephenalltop.com/.  Dude has credentials, that's for sure.)  I was fascinated by how much he knew not only about Bach but of the piece as well.  There are all sorts of nuances in the music that Stephen pointed out, such as Bach's fixation on the number 14 (if A=1, B=2, C=3, then H=8.  B+A+C+H=2+1+3+8=14, just the number of notes in one of the main themes in the piece), and a grand idea that for those in Bach's time (or afterwards, since the piece debuted after his death), a big swell in the music could be the equivalent of our seeing a grand explosion on TV or the movies - or a Kiss concert.  There is so much more to Bach's music - to much of classical music - that escapes our ears, and it's always a great experience to dive in once in a while and experience something on the high end.  And, as Keith Emerson pointed out by incorporating the Brandenburg Concertos in his days with the Nice, are classical and rock really that far apart?

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.