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The Highs and Lows of the Weekend

Back on the gigs, which these days guarantees at least one airport, but probably two.

Wednesday: Flew to New York City for a private gig on a boat--one of those "cruise around Manhattan" kind of things. We cabbed it to the pier to meet the van and trailer.


photo cred: Kip!

It turned out to be a pretty mindless corporate gig, but the views were spectacular. Get paid to ride a boat around NYC on a nice Wednesday night? No problem.




Special additions to the setlist: Sailing and Arthur's Theme ("if you get caught between the moon and New York City," which we did).




The band spent the night at a hotel near Madison Square Garden--tiny hotel rooms! Plus, the dude in a cat mask watching Netflix. What the hell?



Thursday: Travel day. Our lobby call wasn't until almost noon, so I spent the morning on an exploratory run around town.




I've done the NYC/Michael Brecker tour on the blog before, so I'll skip that, but I do want to point out that this is the site of Paul Simon's 1991 "Concert in the Park"...which featured Michael Brecker! He was here!

My sister's first NYC apartment looks a lot different these days


doggie day care

the U.N.

LaGuardia food stop


Sully's landing strip


So...on to Nashville. We had the night off (this was cheaper than flying home from NYC for the night and then turning around to fly to Nashville on Friday). Several of us caught guitarist Oz Noy at 3rd and Linsley. Impressive chops from everybody in the band (including Atlanta-based drummer Darren Stanley)!


Friday: More down time. I had another exploratory run around a city.






the scene of my birth




After lunch, I took a walk around Vanderbilt's campus. College kids look like they're fourteen. I'm suddenly an old man. It also reminded me of how much I don't miss college at all.


The gig...we played the Cannery Ballroom. I had a pretty terrible/sloppy show, and by about halfway through our set I wanted to quit the band. I hated everybody in the room, the crowd, the venue, the music, myself...it was bad. I was miserable. Nights like this make me suicidal.

Saturday: On to Asheville, NC for a show at The Orange Peel, one of the coolest venues in the southeast. We hadn't visited in a couple of years, but ticket sales were pretty strong (600+)!


We were early to load in, affording us a half hour to walk around town.

No video, but this bus had a band in the front, and when they drove by, they were KILLING Free Bird. No lie. It was awesome.

My dog cannot and will not do this. Also, I can't juggle.

"I know you're gonna leave me a tip." My tip: long tones with a tuner.




Another night, another veggie burrito

I bounced back quickly from Nashville's fiasco. Great show at The Orange Peel--fun all around, the room sounded fantastic, the crowd was with us from the first note, and we played really well.


Here's a clip of Baker Street from the show:


photo cred: Zach

Three songs previous to Baker Street, I knew I was going to hop up on the front fill at the end of the song, and I got so excited that I got a massive adrenaline rush that I then had to manage for several minutes before the song even started. My plan nearly failed, though, when Monkeyboy put a foot on the box at the start of the guitar solo. Good thing his knee no longer allows him to do such things.

photo cred: Zach. Thanks to Pete for having my back.

 Sunday: Homeward bound for an Unplugged show at Venkman's in Atlanta.

Let's cut to the chase, here. Ever since I forgot how to play the intro to Christopher Cross' Sailing at a Variety Playhouse show (probably six or seven years ago now), it's been a HUGE mental hangup. It's the kind of thing where I could play the first four measures over and over for an hour, and still have to grit my teeth to get through it--it's all in my head. We played it Wednesday night in New York, and I had it right, but on this night, I started panicking three songs before we got to it in the set. Even looking at my chart right before the song began didn't help. My mind went blank, I had a false start, and then once I began, I realized I was in the wrong octave. It was a mess and I wanted to kill myself, and it's so simple! What is wrong with me?

Believe me when I say that I just stopped typing, walked over to my piano, and played it perfectly. Soooooooo....what's the big deal? No idea. Maybe we need to play it more often so that it becomes mundane. I hate myself for these four measures--really, just the first two measures. Even more.


One thought about this song: I'm at my worst when I try and play it using an organ sound instead of strings. The sound and the attack seem to rattle my ear from the first note, and then I make it more difficult by not using the sustain pedal. The next time we play this sucker, I'm going to use the Mellotron strings sound on my Nord. And the sustain pedal.

Anyway, that wrung most of the fun out of this show. I was good on just about everything else on the gig, though, and had some nice solo moments on flute (Lotta Love), piccolo (Me and Julio), and soprano sax (Hey Nineteen).

Damn you, Christopher Cross!

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