Alas, our little feathered friend, you better run. It’s amazing that one little day out of our year means so much carnage for your kind, so my advice for flight is pretty sound. Our American celebration means the loss of many of your lives, and we gleefully glut ourselves on your loss. I’m neither condemning nor condoning our actions because I, too, have partaken in these bizarre festivities. If you were to rewind my life to those special Thursdays in Novembers past, you’d find me greasy-fingered and my belly filled with hot meat as I sit heaped, belt unfastened, on a couch in front of a television blurred with images of parades and football games that are lost to my glazed-over stare. I will not deny my slack-jawed rituals and turkey-induced-mini-comas. Heck, I’ll probably do the same thing again this year. But, I will give pause and step back to cock my head in wide-eyed wonder as I try to figure out just why we/I do the things we/I do on Thanksgiving Day as well as our actions during the other 364 days of the year… 365 in a leap year. My suggestion is we take a moment to tip our collective hat to those we tread upon as we make merry. Thank you, turkeys of the world, for letting us be human.

 

Enough with my soliloquy! I’m sure your reading this to hear about my latest gigs, so I will do my best to oblige. Since I last blogged I played in Albany, Georgia, and Pineville, North Carolina. Both were groovie, as you soon will see.

 

In Albany, I gigged at a neato coffeehouse called The Brown Bean Coffee Company. The gig was on a Wednesday, which is not a typical night to find me gigging, and it was a three-hour or so drive from Atlanta. Of course it was well worth the trek. I must apologize to my wife, though. Her car’s AC is crapping out lately, so it got a tad bit toasty on the drive over. The bad thing is that my feet get sweaty before the rest of me, and I realized mid-drive that my feet are definitely foul-smelling little creatures. I keep up with hygiene as much as the next guy, but we all have our faults. The stench had gotten so bad that Cindy did mention it, but divorce papers have yet to be filed. I guess I’m still in the clear.

 

Anyway, aside from foot odor and my Mapquest directions’ failed attempt to thwart our efforts, we made our way to the venue. The Brown Bean’s a neat coffeehouse, by the way. Reen and Christi run a heck of a place, and they sling a mean cup of coffee. Do check it out.

 

I set up my gear and discovered the lovely natural reverb the shop has. I LOVED that sound. After setting up, someone informed me that the County Fair was in town and that would hurt turnout. Really, if you had to choose between a solo bass show and a fair that has helicopter rides, which would you choose? To be honest, I’m leaning towards the helicopter… sorry. Thanks, though, to the folks that chose the solo bass show over the whirlie bird. Although turnout wasn’t huge, the people there were really great listeners and very responsive. A couple of military guys (who also play trumpet in the military band) enjoyed it enough to phone friends and tell them to come out to the show. So after a while I had a pretty good crowd. My playing was pretty much on, too. I didn’t have a mike with me, so I didn’t do a lot of chatting. I just played to play and had a ball doing so. It was nice to go to the gig and relax by just doing what I do. It was especially nice having this type of gig after performing at high pressure shows like BassUp!. Thanks to Brown Bean for having me and thanks to my friends Julie and Luke for finding the place for me to play. Sorry Julie and Luke for fouling up “the know.” It’s been years since I’ve played that tune. I will have it worked back up by next time. That’s right, Albanians (is that what you guys call yourselves?), I’ll be back at the Brown Bean on December 10^th, and there are no helicopters to save you this time.

 

Next gig was at The Well in Pineville, North Carolina, which is just outside Charlotte. Cindy, Loki, and I arrived early and got a hotel in Charlotte with plans to check out the town. When I got the hotel room, the key card wouldn’t work. I went back to the front desk twice more, both times getting bum keys. The manager on duty even came out to the room on the third try. I guess she assumed that I was attempting to operate the door improperly… you know, because it’s SOOOO hard to operate a door lock. Yes, I did find that a bit of an insult to my intelligence. I’m human so sue me. Anyway, after the manager found the door problem not to be operator error, we were given a new room. I wouldn’t be griping about this so much if this had been the only time this has happened. I stay in a bunch of hotels, and this was the fourth time magnetic card keys malfunctioned. Guys, I’m all about the progression of humanity and all, but when newfangled technology tends to crap its pants too much, it becomes time to move on. Magnetic keys are all George Jetson and junk, and I’m sure they aid in security, but I believe we’ve reached the point of diminishing return with these puppies. I want my metal keys back.

 

Alright, rant over. Now back to your regularly scheduled, groovie, laid-back Darren.  

 

Okay, right, so the gig. We left Loki in the hotel room, trekked over to The Well, and got there just as Spicher was hanging my name in lights (a photo of said name in lights is here). We were early enough to go grab some grub with Spicher, which gave me a chance to get to know him better. Quite a deep-thinking, compassionate being that Spicher is. Once we got back to the venue, I finished setting up my rig. I had a devil of a time trying to get a good sound. I don’t know what it was. Good tone was just evading me that night. Hmmmm. I guess one day I will be enough of a seasoned musician to untangle that problematic knot.

 

I started my set around 8:30 to an intimate crowd. “Intimate” is musician speak for “small audience.” Not that the folks that were at the show were not cool; they most certainly were cool. I appreciate each and every one of them for coming to the show, but I was just hoping for more people to be there. When I played The Well with Trip Wamsley several months back, the place had a ton of folks. Of course Trip has carved out a bit of a niche for himself there. A lot of the fault is mine, too, as I didn’t promote the show at all save for a few emails to a couple of friends. You know how friends are. “Maybe we can catch you next time” is an oft used phrase. That’s not being negative or bitter. That’s just being honest. I love my friends, I want to ask them how many “next times” do you think there will be in life?

 

Aside from sound and turnout issues, I convinced myself that I was going to have a fun gig. You know what? I did. The people were great and the coffee was wonderful. My playing was a bit weak at moments, though. Being that The Well is Trip’s stomping grounds, I was preoccupied with the worry that folks wouldn’t dig my music and perhaps they’d compare me too much to the bass wizardry that is Trip Wamsley. Yes, yes, yes, feelings of inadequacy are silly, but that doesn’t make them any less real. Doubt is a constant thing I struggle with. As a soloist it can at times be very debilitating, but, you know, I’m beginning to suspect that’s the nature of the beast, all part of the show, and fuel for the fire. I defy any solo performer who claims to have never experienced a moment of self-doubt.

 

Moving past all that, I did have a great time. I even did a rap just to show those Pinevillians (hehe) how we do in the A-T-L. Too bad you guys that didn’t come to the show missed it. It was THAT good. Word to big bird. Oh yeah, at the end of my second set, Spicher and Matt came up to do a three-man bass jam. It got a bit muddy and self-indulgent at times, but for the most part there were some nifty ideas thrown out into the world. We even treaded into Stevie Wonder territory with a few minutes of jammin’ on “Uptight.” Matt and Spicher, you guys are great players, and I expect some major grooviness to come from your general direction in the near future. Keep slinging that bass! I’ll be back at The Well along with Trip Wamsley and Brady Muckelroy on February 25, 2006. Be there.

 

Okay people, next gig is at Mocha Match in Decatur, Georgia. This is my town and my first time to play at this venue. Please pack the place out for me. I so long to see your cheery faces watching me intently. Heh. Oh yes, due to the swiftly encroaching holidays I must mention that bass CDs make great gifts. The purchase of my CDs here definitely helps support my nasty habits of staying well-fed and warm in the winter. Since I know that making a living solely as a music teacher and a solo bassist is more of a financial dare than a sound equitable venture, I encourage you to seek out other solo bassists and check out their CDs as well. I totally recommend Trip Wamsley, Brady Muckelroy, Michael Manring, and Steve Lawson. There’s even more to choose from here.The more you nice folks support us, the more music we can put out into the world. Think about it. Toodles for now!