Tuesday Night Blues

Wow. What a dull night. So dull I couldn't think of anything to blog about, so here I am, writing about how there's nothing special to do at all. I went to the Avenue for a little while, but with just Kera, Justin, Brandi and myself there, it wasn't much of a fun night at all, so they closed down early, and back I came.

My brother is at the Bryce Jordan Center, working the Dave Matthews Band show. Yay. Hippie magnet of a show that is. Bet the whole place smells like patchouli and haven't-showered-in-a-while. In all honesty, I do like one Dave Matthews song, Satelites. Nice, easy going song, and a good use of Matthews' nasaly voice.

Speaking of working shows, I'm due to return to the roadie scene this Saturday, helping Big Jim do sound for Face Down, featuring my boy Nate Socoski and John's good buddy Chris Kane. Should be a bitchin' rock and roll show given the promo pieces they have up over at the Ave. I know these guys have mad talent for sure, so I'm looking forward to not paying a cover and getting paid (not much, but something) to rock out once again.

And suddenly, I remember why I love the live music scene in the first place. When I started roadie-ing for Tom's bands back in College, I fell in love with the life. First Plan 9, then Dick Dastardly. Just going out, moving a few slides, pushing a few buttons and drinking a few beers was enough to keep me lugging drums and speaker cabinets to and from the car.

And that's how I got addicted to the stage. But we all how how that story has played out. I'm still doing small-time Karaoke contests for a little bit of cash, and just going out to keep myself practiced once or twice a week. Don't get me wrong, I love going to the Ave. or Mary's and singing, but it's not what I really want. What sucks is, I can't have what I really want right now. My situation won't allow me to make a commitment to a project.

Tempered Edge was all well and good. The tunes were worth believing in, but Bill's "originals only" attitude got us nowhere show-wise. It was hard to book a band who's Guitar Player could only make weekend shows, every once in a while at best. Mel at Pete N' Mel's liked us plenty good, but still, we never had a crowd of more than 20. Better than zero, yes, but not enough (just seven times in two years total) to make a solid commitment to.

Thank the maker for John and Sherry. Those two have been SO gracious to me, and I love them to death for it. Letting me sit on my little stool and sing some songs with them. Me and my fake superstition about Sherry's mic stand, which was in reality a joke about how short she is compared to me. Doing Hotel California that one Bike Night at the Avenue with Paul on accoustic lead. Fumbling through Stairway to Heaven. Swapping my name for that of Freddie Mercury on Crazy Little Thing Called Love. Floyd blocks.

Having fun.

That's why I'm addicted to the stage. It's not about the kudos (though they are nice), it's about having a good time.

Go figure, this turns into a rant about music. I'd best curb that now.

Yep, just another boring Tuesday night in lovely Houtzdale, PA. Hopefully, my scenery changes soon. I don't know how many more of these impossibly frigid winters I can take. The ball is freaking out, that's for sure...