Down At The End Of Lonely Street

Things are quiet these days. The tourist season here starts in April, when the city sponsors "Quilt Week", an international show of homemade comforter art. Starting in May, they close the six blocks to the river every Saturday, after 7PM, and have singers and bands play until well after dark. It unofficially ends with the annual charity barbecue. This year, thousands from all over America swarmed in for a taste of everything from funnel cakes to frozen pickle juice (ugh). But after the last week in September, this place can be a ghost town.

Now, the challenge is finding work when the pickings are slim. My Friday gig had all of six people in for the 2 1/2 hours I worked last week, and one of them was an off-duty employee. The week before, it was two. The manager's not happy; he closed the kitchen at 8PM (they start dinner at six) and sent everyone home early. Just him, the bartender and me. For those two weeks in total, I didn't make more than $20 in tips. I hope I can afford my rent increase.

My British friend Barry tried to get something going last Saturday, but to no avail. All the places that booked live entertainment already had their talent in place. I'm gonna have to scramble for some holiday action. Ironically, lots of people want to have live music, but they can't afford to book decent bands. If I can get some technology my way, maybe a laptop with MIDI capabilities and a multi-timbral synth, I can program some backing tracks to play along with; not just covers of other people's songs, but my own originals as well. They'll hire a one-man band, and not even blink at my price -- it'll still be cheaper than a 4-piece.

Today (?) it's your birthday

If you've read my first post, you'll know that I share a birthday with John Lennon. So, you might understand my surprise when they sprung a party on me, a day early, at the antique store. There was the closest thing we have to a crowd -- Dahn, husband Larry and their 3-year-old girl; Todd and his new wife; Barry and his S.O.; some friends from the neighborhood, one of whom brought her new fella; my bro-in-law, my stepson and my honey. Some of the local guys who always come to the Sunday jam were in there, and everyone got their share of cake and soda.

We fell in to playing at the usual time, and then at about 4 o'clock, they all sang "Happy Birthday". Got some nice goodies, but one that touched me was the little girl's handmade card. She didn't know me from a hole in the wall, and she made that for me, construction paper, magic marker and all... and said "I love you" when it was time for her and the fam to go. How sweet.

I played at Todd's wedding last week. He's the lead singer, songwriter and guitarist for our little band "Five On Friday". He and his lady have been together for some time, but they decided it was time to get married. Todd wanted to have it Hawaiian luau-style, since he said he "couldn't stand the thought of being in some ridiculous monkey suit." This meant flowered shirts, tiki torches, and even some grass skirts -- although there were clothes on underneath.

Unfortunately, western Kentucky isn't as warm as Honolulu at the end of September. I was outdoors, playing solo guitar, fumbling, hoping no one would notice. If I gave them anything close to what they wanted, I'm glad, but I think I could have played better. Sometimes I really want to impress people, and I can't get my hands to play what my mind thinks they should. Oh well, I guess that's why practice was invented.