I found this clip of us playing Careless Whisper at the Reagan Rock prom .
Saturday night I played with the Yacht Rock Schooner (our b band), covering the second keyboard part as well as the sax/flute duties. Also subbing in were Mark Bencuya and Greg Lee. I asked Greg if it was difficult to sing without playing bass at the same time--I remember Sting saying that some songs are very difficult to perform if he is used to playing at the same time. He said no--it was difficult to sing songs he's never sung before!
Since it was the Schooner, we got to play Lonely Boy, which as you might know is one of my personal favorites. It's a fun song to play, and I like the fact that I get to be an essential part of the band on that one. The usual mode of operations is for Bencuya to handle the most essential keyboard part; I am am much better suited to string parts and things of that sort which cannot derail the band when I suffer the inevitable disaster. Lonely Boy is a rare moment when I get to be "the man" and Bencuya's responsibility is in the strings.
So...last night? Three mistakes--nothing horrible. In the first verse, the piano fills in between the chords in the progression with a repeated A. I started thinking about it too much and tripped a little bit. The other two mistakes were a bit uglier--between the guitar solo and the final verse is a break down to just the piano. I was sailing along just fine, and then I started thinking about the chords (up until then I was just playing, and not consciously thinking). Once my brain (and its annoying little voice) started in--right in the spot where I REALLY wanted to be perfect, I was toast. It was kind of like the GPS on my phone, which is messed up and tells me to turn right as I pass through an intersection. "You are currently playing an A minor triad, though the chord here is really F# half diminished." This little monologue caused me to play and E Major triad and then a cluster of some sort, instead of B sus to B. My apologies. Just like my Sailing episode, I can play it just fine twenty-nine out of thirty times. You caught me at number thirty.
That was a little disappointing, but nothing that crushed my soul.
I got into some pretty good sax solos last night--I wonder why it is that the Schooner inspires me to better stuff? My guess would be two things: #1, we are on a small stage and nowhere for me to move, so I focus more on playing and less on showmanship; #2, we are on a small stage and I can hear my monitor well, so I tend to not overblow.
One thing I've noticed in the past (and again last night) is that the drummer tends to end songs in the middle of my phrases. I think in eight measure phrases, and I assume that everybody can hear the "sentence structure" of what I'm doing. On more than one solo last night, things were brought to a halt on the third measure of a phrase--it feels like I'm stopping in the middle of a word! Very strange. I don't know if he cannot hear me or maybe is listening to something else, but ending in the weird spots like that is very uncomfortable.
Tonight's church gig was a medley of frustrations. When we were setting up, the hand drummer informed me that he turned himself way up because a member of the congregation said he was inaudible. I'll check it out, I said. Once the mass began, I was making my adjustments (one of which was cranking him up even more because I could hardly get any sound from his microphone). When I walked past the band to go hear how things sounded in the middle of the cathedral, I noticed he was playing his drum with two fingers. No wonder he cannot be heard! The solution is not to turn him up, but for him to play a little harder. I was flabbergasted. He usually wears headphones--he's hearing the main outputs from the board--so how can he be unaware of whether or not he can be heard? I have his microphone so hot it was picking up more of the piano than him. If you want to be heard, you've got to give me something to work with!
There were multiple vocals solos last night that came without warning. Is it really that difficult to turn around and say "I sing a solo on verse two." Can you give me a heads up? Do you want me to bump you up or not?
The evening was too amateurish for me to tolerate.
The clincher came at the end of the mass when the priest gave away gift certificates to two dads--one with the youngest child and one with the oldest. I had the youngest child, and then a man in the front row volunteered that his child was younger--still in the womb! So, of course, being a Catholic church, the father of the unborn (and thus younger than my five year old) won the prize. Ain't that a bitch? That guy should be ashamed of himself--as my wife pointed out, the only thing that guy's done at this point is impregnate his wife, and there's a big difference between that and fatherhood. Afterwards, the priest said to me "you almost got it!" I should have kicked him in the nuts--he doesn't need those to be a "father."
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