I usually only play at the Spectrum on Saturdays, but this Saturday was Halloween. Since I like to play somewhere at least once per weekend, at the last minute I asked the Spectrum people if I could play on Friday instead. I appear to be the only sucker they have playing in the Food Court these days, so I got it.
I got there a little late, 'cuz it's hard to get there at 5:30 on a work day, but nobody was exactly there waiting for me -- there were literally 2 people in the whole outdoor area. I expected it to be lighter than on a Saturday, but not *this* light. More people eventually showed up, but it stayed pretty quiet. I figured it was a lesson well learned -- stick to Saturdays.
Still, it was pretty fun. I had some people listening most of the time, and the usual packs of roving teens. At one point, a small group showed up and a girl was on a "dare hunt" of some kind, and needed to come up and sing a song. Fine with me -- what have *I* got to lose? She turned out to be even worse than she'd claimed, completely tone and rhythm-deaf on "Yesterday" (even with me singing in her ear), so I shut it down after two verses.
Then another girl (from a different roving pack) decided that she wanted to sing too, and did almost as badly on (a similarly-shortened) "Hey There Delilah". I was surprised because usually people with the guts to get up have a little talent to back it up.
I wore my "Shaun of the Dead" costume, which consists mainly of a short-sleeved white shirt, a red tie, and a red nametag (sorry no pictures -- I forgot the camera), which had gone over big-time at OCHSA earlier, but it's a bit subtle and obscure and nobody seemed to recognize it with a guitar in front of it. Admittedly, you've either seen that movie or you haven't -- but I ended up asking a few people directly if they'd seen it, and once reminded of the movie, they suddenly understood that I was wearing the costume. Not nearly as satisfying as having someone recognize it spontaneously -- and a bit painful to think that everyone else just figured that that outfit was just how big a geek I was...
I also brought some little Tootsie Rolls to give away, but since my hands are both busy most of the time, didn't really get a chance to do so much. And it turns out that throwing little candies at people in the semi-darkness doesn't work very well, either.
I had worked up "Ghost Riders in the Sky" (again) for the occasion, and played it a few times, with the harmony box chiming in on the "Yip-ee-i-ay" parts. Sounded really cool.
There was a group of teenage Asian kids who brought their dinner out and inexplicably sat at an up-front table. They were studiously-too-cool to acknowledge me, and ate and smoked and talked for a long time without so much as looking up. But apparently they were listening closer than they pretended to be, 'cuz when someone else took me up on my offer to play requests from the song lists available on the table, one of the girls couldn't help herself, got a list, and started requesting songs -- which they ended up staying around quite a while for. It's pretty satisfying when you can visibly turn some people around.
And towards the end, I had a 20-something couple come by who were *really* into it, for no apparent reason. They sat for a long time, asked for several songs, refused to ask for more ("All your stuff is great -- play whatever you want!"), and clapped and "Whoo-ed" at the end of any and everything. Then some teens came by and dragged some chairs around to form a "front row", and they were asking for stuff (and, typically, not listening to the songs they asked for), but being enthusiastic in between songs. Between them, they made my night.
It seemed like there wasn't very many people there, so I wasn't expecting much in the tip jar, but it totaled $85! The really odd part (and, I guess, explanation) is that there was a twenty, 3 fives, and 3 sets of 5 ones folded together. That means that I made the first $50 off of only 7 generous people -- without selling a single CD, or even noticing anyone who seemed particularly (twenty-bucks' worth) entranced.
It's becoming pretty obvious that people tip a single guy more (sometimes a lot more) than a "band" (even of only 2). I'm obviously basing that on a very limited data-set, but I certainly don't think that "we" (when Warren's there) sound worse than "I" do, and the set list and "performance" is nearly identical. I can only guess that people feel either (a) sorry for, or (b) more personally connected to, a single guy standing there playing. Not that I want Warren to stop coming -- I'm not in this for the money -- but it's an interesting bit of psychology.
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