I met these two Long Beach guys who play together, but due to disparate music styles, not at the same time. They like to set up somewhere, and take turns playing songs. They've expanded that idea to add more musicians, and they call it "Lorenzo and Jay's Jamboree". This time it was in the Cultural Alliance of Long Beach's art gallery/workshop/hangout above the "Shenanigans" bar in Shoreline Village, across the bay from the Queen Mary. I know! Could it get any more complicated?
Anyway, we started out with just the three of us, but more guys showed up later on until there were seven players. Most of the time there were fewer than seven people there listening, and most of them were really there to work on their art projects. But toward the end, more people came (I don't know why or where from), until we had about 20.
They were quite appreciative, despite the wildly disparate music. We had 12-string strummy guy (Lorenzo), Johnny Cash-style 12-bar blues (Jay), sings along with 50's classics on backup tracks guy, R&B guy, kinda-Irish with (terrific) harmonica guy, ukulele novelty-tunes guy, and me: 70's nostalgia pop.
Mostly, it was like an Open Mic night -- indeed, I had met Tracks and Ukulele guy before at the Sababa Open Mic. But since the room and stage were large enough that everyone could be set up ready to play, there was a lot less downtime between songs, and it went round-robin instead of each guy getting a 3 or 4 song set and done.
It also made it like a "battle of the bands" because, of course, each guy wanted to outdo the one before him. It's pretty great for beginners to not have the pressure of a solo gig, but to have some pressure to do their best.
I don't know if I'll do another one, 'cuz an hour drive each way to play 10 songs is pretty low ROI, but the guy who runs the place was apparently impressed and asked me to come back and do a solo set in two weeks. That'll definitely be worth the drive.
I got an email from a guy who had heard me play for the Santa Claus line, saying how much he liked it, and wondering if I was free to play for his family's Christmas Eve party. Since all my family stuff is on Christmas Day, I said yes.
I was hoping it was going to be more than just, like, him and his mom, but fortunately, he has a really big family and there were about 30 people there: grandma, aunts, uncles, cousins, and half-a-dozen kids.
In an email, he warned me that, since last year his grandma was too frail to attend except in her pajamas, they now have a family tradition of the whole party is in pajamas -- and I could do the same. But when I found out that it was going to be in the back yard, I decided to wear my usual 4-layer Playing In December outfit. I didn't have the luxury of hanging out under one of the heaters, or going inside to warm up, like they all did. Nobody seemed to mind that I was Out Of Uniform. And of course, they all go out and get new fun pajamas just for this.
As I was leaving, the guy told me that it was great, and especially since his mom, who usually never leaves the kitchen at these things, was compelled to come out and actually enjoy the music/party for once.
I left him with 5 Christmas CDs and 5 "Favorites" CDs, as my Christmas gifts/souvenirs for whoever wanted them.
I did so well the night before that I just had to come down again. I don't have many free nights in December to waste.
Not as many people, but still a lot of fun. Somehow, it turned into sing-along night. I had one girl sing "Baby It's Cold Outside" with me, which went great and was fun. Then a girl went through the list, but she was looking for a song for herself to sing -- somehow thinking that this was karaoke. That was awkward.
I had a pack of kids come up to sing "Let It Go", but they stayed and stayed, singing "Do You Want To Build a Snowman", and then "Frosty", "Rudolph", and "Jingle Bells". Finally their parents just had to drag them away.
I was braver about staying later, since nobody even seemed to be home at the closest house, so I was there until 10:45. Besides, I was trying to wait until a quiet spot to try to make a video of "Merry Christmas, Darling". The audio's not bad, but it was way too dark, and it's tough to be your own cameraman.
The rich people who live on the island in Naples put up incredible Christmas decorations, and huge crowds come down every year to walk around to see them. And even though I'd played almost every day for three weeks, I had to go down.
As I drove down there, the thickest fog bank I've ever seen loomed up and engulfed me. When I was playing, it was so wet that water was dripping down my amplifier and guitar, and I could barely tune the guitar with the tuning knobs so wet. The iPad screen got so wet that it would stop responding to my touch. Weird.
Anyway, it was terrific. It's like playing in Laguna, but there's no traffic noise, except the occasional putt-putt motorboat going by in the canal. And nobody's in a hurry to get anywhere, they're there to get some Christmas Spirit, so they welcome some music. Early on there are lots of families with little kids, so I can rope them in with some "Jingle Bells", "Frosty", or "Rudolph", but this year, what worked even better was "Do You Want to Build a Snowman" from "Frozen". And whenever I'd play it, lots of people would stop, and then I'd follow it with "Let It Go". At one point I had at least 50 people gathered around, with three of four kids up by me singing it, and half the teens in the audience singing along, too.
A pack of high school kids came by and I asked them to pick a Christmas song, and showed them my on-screen list. A girl asked me to do "Baby, It's Cold Outside", and I said that I'd love to, but somebody has to do the Girl Part. She said, "No, I couldn't", but her friends insisted that she could, and talked her into it. And she was great -- so much fun!
Later on, I was doing "Jingle Bell Rock" and a group was there, and one guy was singing along in a comic Elvis voice. So, of course, I fired up "Blue Christmas" next, and he looked at me with panic in his eyes and said "Is that... Oh, you're killing me." And he was right -- his wife and friends made him come up and sing it with me. Afterwards, he went over to the jar and put something in it, and then took one of my "jingle sticks" and just walked away with it. That was odd, but I think I probably came out ahead still.
So, for the seventh year in a row, I played for the line waiting to see Santa at the big Winter Wonderland that the city of Mission Viejo puts on. It's every Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday in December up until Christmas, which made for nine nights this year.
The lady used to try and book church choirs and Girl Scout troops for some of the nights, but that was always a disaster, so she just lets me do them all now (except the one night that overlaps with her colleague's event, the Holly Trolley).
And as always, it's great fun. Kids are fun to play for, and excited kids even more so. A lot of them show up in their best Christmas outfits, because they'll be getting photos with Santa and Mrs. Claus. The setup allows the parents to stay in line, but let their kids come over to where I'm playing.
I've been bringing the "tambourine sticks" to let the kids play along, though at this age, none of them actually shake the sticks to the rhythm of the song. The downside to those is trying to keep track of them -- about one per night goes home with someone. Fortunately, they're really cheap.
Along with Santa, there's hot chocolate, cookie decorating, model trains to play with, and Christmas cartoons (with, I finally convinced them, the sound turned way down -- doesn't seem to bother the kids, though).
There are also some high school kids in Frosty and Rudolph costumes. They've been instructed to "high five" the kids instead of hugging, so they don't get knocked over. One little girl went over to Frosty and did the high-five, then excitedly shouted to her mom, way at the end of the line, "Mom! Their hands are *fluffy*!"
The lady who books me for Santa's Workshop and the Farmers' Market gigs recommended me to the head of the Mission Viejo Chamber of Commerce to play their "Holiday Mixer". See, it really is "who you know".
I was expecting a(nother) dull party, but there were a couple hundred people, and they were ready to par-tay. There was an official photographer like at a senior prom, free food (provided by local member businesses), and "Casino Night". Everyone got some free "money" at the door, and at the end of the evening, their winnings (if any) converted into raffle tickets for prizes.
So everyone was busy talking, eating, and gambling while I played, but lots of people came over to say nice things. But oddly, the guy had also booked the "Mission Viejo High School Choir". When I got the signal, I took a break and in they came -- 5 kids and the director. That hardly qualifies as a "choir", but the crowd shushed down and could maybe hear the first few songs, but then they got bored and wanted to get back to their casino games, and it got noisier and completely drowned the poor kids out. As they left, I told the director about the senior home I'd played at that's within walking distance of the school, and would be a far better venue for the kids to sing at.
I played a little more, and then they stopped the games to do the raffle, which took forever. When that was done, most everyone took it as a signal that the party was over, but some people stayed so I played a few more songs, and some couples danced to "White Christmas", etc. That was fun.
While I was packing up, the guy who organized the party came up and told me that everyone loved the music, and it "made the party", etc. So hopefully he'll hire me again sometime.
This was the Holiday Party for my brother's "Elliot Inn" lawyer club that I played for back in September. It was at a fancy restaurant's ball room in Irvine. Everybody except me was in a suit, but, you know, they're lawyers. And I did wear a tie...
It was probably twice as big of a party than the other lawyer party I played at a week earlier. So louder and "looser". No clapping, but several people came up to say nice things. And take a card.
Since it was lawyers again, I put out my "CDs are free. (My tip jar is over there -->)" sign. This is meant to invoke the usual "Suggested donation" dodge of people who don't have business licenses -- cheerleader carwashes, etc. I had thought that lawyers, especially, would get the joke, and not take me at my word and go home with free CDs.
And one guy took a CD and put in a tenner. But four more guys took CDs and put on a buck or three. So I didn't lose money on the deal, but it sure shook my faith in humanity when these guys who make a couple hundred bucks an hour for their expertise decided that mine was worth so little...
Unexpectedly, they had also scheduled a guy to give a humorous (to lawyers) speech about the wild and wooly old days of Orange County law. Luckily for them, I had set up a spare microphone that (barely) reached the podium where he stood. He finished up with only 15 minutes left of the party, so I played some more, but the place was emptying out as people decided that the end of the speech was the end of the party.
So, not great, but a better lawyer party than the last one. The CD debacle left a bad taste in my mouth, but I did get paid, so I should shut up.
Like years past, I signed up to play the "receptions" for the Mission Viejo Activities Committee's "Holly Trolley" event, where they take people around to see the winners of the Christmas lighting contest in three sightseeing buses.
There are two departure times each of the two nights, and each is preceded by an hour reception, where there's cookies, finger food, hot cider and chocolate, and music: me.
Usually, it's in the garden party space out behind City Hall, but this year, with the forecast of rain for Friday, they moved it into the big lobby. This was fine with me, 'cuz indoors is (A) better acoustics, and (B) warmer. And once they got it all set up, they kept it in the lobby for Saturday, too. There was some discussion about whether it was better there anyway, and they may keep it there for next year, too. Got my vote.
But the whole event is a little awkward, because the worst part of playing a party is getting started, and for all four of these, just as me and the guests are starting to get warmed up, somebody comes in, shouts "All aboard!" and steals my audience.
And, when I play a party, I get there early and get all set up, and then when the first guests arrive, I start playing. Of course, they're all alone in a big open room, so they're shy, and it's awkward that they're getting a personal concert, so after that first song, they don't/can't clap. Then more people show up, and when the next song is over, they follow the lead and precedent of the first set, so they don't clap, either. And so on until there's a big party going on, but the "no clapping" behavior has become the standard. But I don't let it bother me. Anymore.
It's meant to be volunteer work -- everybody else there is on the Activities Committee -- along with the Santa's Workshops that I play. Between these two (four?) gigs, and the nine Workshop nights, I'm playing for them, for "free", a lot of nights. It's big fun playing for the kids so I'm OK with that, but last year they unexpectedly sent me an honorarium, which I hope they'll do again.
The Saturday Holly Trolley overlaps with, and trumps, a Santa's Workshop night, and is the only Santa night that I missed. One of the Santa's Helpers ladies told me that I really add a lot to the Workshop event, and that when I wasn't there, I was "really missed". Well, shucks...
My wife volunteered me to come play some Christmas music for the old folks at the senior center where she takes the dogs to visit twice a month. It was in a big multipurpose room, with a stage and everything. Playing *indoors*. Twice in a row!
All the old folks were very nice, and of course loved the Christmas music and some other songs to fill out the hour. Lots of them sang along on the classics: "White Christmas", "I'll Be Home...", "Winter Wonderland", "Comin' to Town", etc.
The only dark spot was a guy over at the side who would not, did not stop talking the whole time. It wasn't much of a problem for me, 'cuz once I was playing I couldn't hear him, but the poor guy next to him looked beleaguered. Staff people kept going over to try to shut him up, but had no luck. Finally one of the staff ladies went over and managed to get him talking to her, to let the other guy off the hook. She couldn't stop Mister Talkative, but she could change his target. Awfully nice of her to take that bullet...
When I finished, lots of the old folks came up to tell me how nice it was, and how much they liked the music, etc. After they were all gone, the lady who runs the program came by to tell me how much everyone enjoyed it, and if I wanted to, she could set me up on a monthly schedule, and pay me $60 per visit. That's a ways below my usual fee, but a steady gig, guaranteed nice (mostly) attentive audience, indoors, with great acoustics -- I think I may take her up on that.
Let's just say it was nothing like what I was picturing. I thought it was gonna a "Holiday Party", with like lots of people, chatting and laughing, cheerful lighting, spiked punch, inappropriate remarks, lampshades on heads -- you know, like a cocktail party you see on TV.
Instead it was an "on the way home from work" get together. No spouses, just a bunch of lawyers with nothing in common but work, talking shop for two hours while I played over in the corner like I was in a different movie. More like a company meeting than a party. Or rather like when some people get to a meeting a little early and are standing around talking.
Since I'd be in a room full of lawyers, and I'm not technically legally allowed to *sell* CDs (no business license, and no rights to the songs), I made up a sign that I was hoping they'd find amusing -- "CDs are free. My tip jar is over there -->". They had a table out for me, so I put the sign, some Christmas CDs, some regular CDs, and my song lists out. I thought, "Lawyers make a lot of money, they'll be good tippers, and I'll make more than my usual five bucks per CD".
So here I was in this dark little side room at a restaurant, the size of a living room. About 30 people total, all jammed on the other side of the room as far away from me as possible. I'd'a thought I was too loud, but the lady running the "party" told me that the volume was "just right".
They just stayed away from me like I was selling life insurance, and from the table like it was "Free Ebola". Finally near the end of the party, somebody put in two bucks, and a guy took one of each CD, and put in five bucks. So much for "Lawyers will be good tippers".
Coincidentally, the corporate lawyer from Toshiba was one of the 30 lawyers there, and we had worked together on some stuff and became friends. Before he left, he also took one of each CD and put in a ten -- my usual price.
But hey, I got paid to be there. And nobody said that your job was gonna be "fun" all the time.
I'd had a cold the previous week, and then somehow tweaked my back so I couldn't even get the amp into the van and had had to cancel last Saturday's Laguna trip, so I was determined to get down there somehow this time. Especially since I'm so busy in December that this would be my only chance to sing Christmas music in Laguna this year.
My back is still trashed, but I took a clue from NASA and hooked the amp up to the top of the hatchback with a bunch of bungee cords. At "Moon gravity", it was much easier to lift up and in.
When I drove past the corner, I was surprised to see our summertime nemesis, the Tommies, playing there. I rolled on over to the Fingerhut side anyway, but before I'd hardly started setting up, Tom came over and volunteered to move to the Tunnel. Apparently, he wasn't doing well against the loud ice cream store music and the cold. He and little Tommie would be warmer and louder in the enclosed and echoey tunnel.
Because of my back, I brought a little fold-up stool to lean against. It felt weird not to be standing, but being down a little lower pointed the monitor speaker right toward my head, which really helped me sing.
The now ever present bums were mostly over on the far bench, but the foot traffic was pretty low, so we didn't have too many people. Except for one quiet stretch late in the evening when I had four or five couples captured by "Bridge Over Troubled Water". That's really the best, when some people mean to walk on by but are pulled up short and stop.
One little boy decided that the best way to keep Mom from dragging him away was to just sit down, right there. She got the hint.
We had more than usual police presence, which I now look forward to, since I'm pretty sure they're not going to shut me down. They usually can't do anything about the bums, but just having them come by helps modulate the behavior. A cop came by to talk to Shirtless Josh, apparently called in by a woman who didn't appreciate his critique of her anatomy. Good for her. Maybe we need to call him "Clueless" Josh, since he kept insisting that it was a compliment...
At one point, an older guy for whom the term "stumble bum" was coined tried to walk through the corner. And he almost made it, but as he walked past Warren, he fell over backwards onto Warren's (empty) guitar case and into his equipment tower, tumbling over a carefully-rigged set of effects pedals. Warren and an audience member had to drag him up onto his feet and sit him on the bench to sober up a little while I tried to dispel some of the awkwardness by singing another song. Fortunately, no permanent damage to Warren's stuff.
And we had the little Mexican drunk who likes to chat people up for a while before asking to "borrow" a dollar. He thinks he's our friend, and when he came up to me for the third time to fist-bump, I had to tell him outright to stop chasing away "my customers". "Oh, I don't do that!" Yes, you do. I'm pretty sure the people sat down to listen to the music, not to make a new friend.
And then a little before 10, some of the guys who'd wandered off returned and sat right there on the main bench. One of them took to shouting "Wanna buy some weed?" over and over at the passing people. I suffered through it for a while, but it was the last straw, and I just quit mid-song and packed up.
As much as I like playing down there, I'm kinda looking forward to a month of playing places *without* drunken bums.
I'd had a cold the previous week, and then somehow tweaked my back so I couldn't even get the amp into the van and had had to cancel last Saturday's Laguna trip, so I was determined to get down there somehow this time. Especially since I'm so busy in December that this would be my only chance to sing Christmas music in Laguna this year.
My back is still trashed, but I took a clue from NASA and hooked the amp up to the top of the hatchback with a bunch of bungee cords. At "Moon gravity", it was much easier to lift up and in.
When I drove past the corner, I was surprised to see our summertime nemesis, the Tommies, playing there. I rolled on over to the Fingerhut side anyway, but before I'd hardly started setting up, Tom came over and volunteered to move to the Tunnel. Apparently, he wasn't doing well against the loud ice cream store music and the cold. He and little Tommie would be warmer and louder in the enclosed and echoey tunnel.
Because of my back, I brought a little fold-up stool to lean against. It felt weird not to be standing, but being down a little lower pointed the monitor speaker right toward my head, which really helped me sing.
The now ever present bums were mostly over on the far bench, but the foot traffic was pretty low, so we didn't have too many people. Except for one quiet stretch late in the evening when I had four or five couples captured by "Bridge Over Troubled Water". That's really the best, when some people mean to walk on by but are pulled up short and stop.
One little boy decided that the best way to keep Mom from dragging him away was to just sit down, right there. She got the hint.
We had more than usual police presence, which I now look forward to, since I'm pretty sure they're not going to shut me down. They usually can't do anything about the bums, but just having them come by helps modulate the behavior. A cop came by to talk to Shirtless Josh, apparently called in by a woman who didn't appreciate his critique of her anatomy. Good for her. Maybe we need to call him "Clueless" Josh, since he kept insisting that it was a compliment...
At one point, an older guy for whom the term "stumble bum" was coined tried to walk through the corner. And he almost made it, but as he walked past Warren, he fell over backwards onto Warren's (empty) guitar case and into his equipment tower, tumbling over a carefully-rigged set of effects pedals. Warren and an audience member had to drag him up onto his feet and sit him on the bench to sober up a little while I tried to dispel some of the awkwardness by singing another song. Fortunately, no permanent damage to Warren's stuff.
And we had the little Mexican drunk who likes to chat people up for a while before asking to "borrow" a dollar. He thinks he's our friend, and when he came up to me for the third time to fist-bump, I had to tell him outright to stop chasing away "my customers". "Oh, I don't do that!" Yes, you do. I'm pretty sure the people sat down to listen to the music, not to make a new friend.
And then a little before 10, some of the guys who'd wandered off returned and sat right there on the main bench. One of them took to shouting "Wanna buy some weed?" over and over at the passing people. I suffered through it for a while, but it was the last straw, and I just quit mid-song and packed up.
As much as I like playing down there, I'm kinda looking forward to a month of playing places *without* drunken bums.
I arrived about 6:30 to the surprise of a quartet of Dickensian carolers out on The Corner. (A) Kinda early in the year, and (B), Carolers, busking! I figured they wouldn't be there long, but when I got there they immediately started to leave, asking me if I wanted to play. I said that sure, I wanted to play, but I wanted to hear a song first! The alto asked me which one, so I asked for my favorite carol, "God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen", and she said that they didn't know it. What?!? The bass clarified that it's a five-part song (it is?), and their fifth wasn't there. They settled on "Angels We Have Heard on High", and did a respectable job of it, and then took off.
I inherited a young family as an audience, and let the little girls look through the list as I set up. Imagine my (lack of) surprise when they picked "Let It Go". One of the girls wanted to come up and sing along, but the other one didn't but got dragged up anyway, so they spent most of the song wrestling with each other over it. Anna and Elsa would have been so ashamed...
Later on, another family with two little girls came by, and they did their ballet moves (in clogs!) to "Let It Be", and then requested -- you guessed it -- "Let It Go". This pair just wanted to dance to it, not sing it. Which made for a mystery when the grandfather told me that they were flying to New York on Monday to be on the TV chat show, "The View", re-creating their viral YouTube hit singing it.
It turned into a pretty good night. For a while we had a pretty big crowd, asking for songs. But then the Australian bum showed up, pretty drunk on whatever not-smart and not-water he totes around in his "Smart Water" bottle. He was getting right in the face of this nice local couple, just as a cop car drove around the corner. The lady leapt up and flagged him down, told him what was up, and he parked, pulled the drunk out of the group, and gave him a stern talking to. He sobered up quick, and came back after a while but much subdued. Hopefully the chilling effect will last a few weeks...
The kind of great side effect was that the cops were all standing around dealing with this guy while I kept playing for the clearly appreciative crowd. I expect that the cops noticed that I'm a Good Thing, not Too Loud, and their helping me with the drunk kind of put us on The Same Side. Maybe an illusion, but it made me less worried that they'll decide to have A Talk with me sometime.
As she was leaving, the lady who flagged down the cop was commiserating with us about having to deal with this drunk guy all the time. I told her that he wasn't the only one, and not even close to the worst of them. She said that since the election, there were new city council members that were aiming to clean up this homeless hang-out problem, somehow, though some members were opposing the idea. I don't know what kind of plan they have that would work -- lots of cities have this same problem -- but just enforcing the "drunk in public" laws would be a start.
I arrived about 6:30 to the surprise of a quartet of Dickensian carolers out on The Corner. (A) Kinda early in the year, and (B), Carolers, busking! I figured they wouldn't be there long, but when I got there they immediately started to leave, asking me if I wanted to play. I said that sure, I wanted to play, but I wanted to hear a song first! The alto asked me which one, so I asked for my favorite carol, "God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen", and she said that they didn't know it. What?!? The bass clarified that it's a five-part song (it is?), and their fifth wasn't there. They settled on "Angels We Have Heard on High", and did a respectable job of it, and then took off.
I inherited a young family as an audience, and let the little girls look through the list as I set up. Imagine my (lack of) surprise when they picked "Let It Go". One of the girls wanted to come up and sing along, but the other one didn't but got dragged up anyway, so they spent most of the song wrestling with each other over it. Anna and Elsa would have been so ashamed...
Later on, another family with two little girls came by, and they did their ballet moves (in clogs!) to "Let It Be", and then requested -- you guessed it -- "Let It Go". This pair just wanted to dance to it, not sing it. Which made for a mystery when the grandfather told me that they were flying to New York on Monday to be on the TV chat show, "The View", re-creating their viral YouTube hit singing it.
It turned into a pretty good night. For a while we had a pretty big crowd, asking for songs. But then the Australian bum showed up, pretty drunk on whatever not-smart and not-water he totes around in his "Smart Water" bottle. He was getting right in the face of this nice local couple, just as a cop car drove around the corner. The lady leapt up and flagged him down, told him what was up, and he parked, pulled the drunk out of the group, and gave him a stern talking to. He sobered up quick, and came back after a while but much subdued. Hopefully the chilling effect will last a few weeks...
The kind of great side effect was that the cops were all standing around dealing with this guy while I kept playing for the clearly appreciative crowd. I expect that the cops noticed that I'm a Good Thing, not Too Loud, and their helping me with the drunk kind of put us on The Same Side. Maybe an illusion, but it made me less worried that they'll decide to have A Talk with me sometime.
As she was leaving, the lady who flagged down the cop was commiserating with us about having to deal with this drunk guy all the time. I told her that he wasn't the only one, and not even close to the worst of them. She said that since the election, there were new city council members that were aiming to clean up this homeless hang-out problem, somehow, though some members were opposing the idea. I don't know what kind of plan they have that would work -- lots of cities have this same problem -- but just enforcing the "drunk in public" laws would be a start.
We'd completely written off Fridays in Laguna Beach, since too-loud-Sanchez had "claimed" the corner on Thursdays and Fridays. But I've been wondering if that really meant *every* Friday, all year round, or if we were staying away for no reason. So I drove down there.
And there he was. On The Corner, standing in front of the bench, with his stuff strewn across it. We always play across from the bench, so listeners can sit on it, but we're at the mercy of the drunks and crazies taking it over, disallowing the civilians access to it. I think maybe Sanchez hates the bums more than he likes a sitting audience.
And the repetitive nature of his music supports that -- he sounds kinda OK if you're just walking by, but if you stick around, it becomes clear that it's all the same, all night long. He doesn't need, or want, people to stay any longer than it takes to put a buck in his guitar case. I, on the other hand, always want the appreciative ones to stay as long as possible, tipping or not.
Anyway, since I couldn't play in Laguna, I went to Plan B: Belmont Shore. There are several blocks along Second Street with a vibrant nightlife -- lots of bars, restaurants, and ginchy stores, and people walking around to take it all in. Rumor had it that one could stand in front of the (obviously closed) Chase bank and play, and although Long Beach apparently has a no-amps law on the books, the guys who play there claim that the cops don't enforce it. I was counting on, at least, a first-offence Warning rather than a fine.
So I drove up PCH, passing through Newport (known no-amp law, with anecdotal reports of cops tightly enforcing it), Huntington Beach (why can't I play here?), Sunset Beach (bars, but no walking zones), and finally Belmont. By this time it was after 8, so I cruised up the street to see if there was anyone else out -- there wasn't. So I found the bank, parked, and dragged my stuff out.
But camped out along the sidewalk in front of the bank was a group of anti-war people, with card tables full of literature and portraits of dead soldiers lined up along the wall. I'm sympathetic, but I didn't want to set up close to them since their vibe wouldn't be conducive to my program, and I didn't want to interfere with theirs. So I went just around the corner of the bank, out of view of their setup, but still visible to passers-by. (They apparently weren't bothered: they smiled and shot me the Peace Sign as they left.)
Just as I was setting up, a kid rolled up on a skateboard, decided that the smooth marble floor and parking berms at this side of the bank were a cool place to skate, and proceeded to make really loud skateboard clacking noises. I figured he'd leave soon, or at least when I started playing, but, for the second time that evening, I figured wrong.
I started anyway, at very low volume -- new place, paranoid me. Lots of people walked by, and a lot of them broke the "no eye contact" street rule and quite a few actually smiled. And a grand total of nine of them pulled out a buck for me. But even so, it was kind of pleasant. Still had the Harley and Lambo noise problem that we get in Laguna, but not nearly as much. A cop car went by three times during the two hours that I was there, and although he took a good long look at me as he cruised by, he never stopped.
I did have a few people stop and listen just a bit. There was a bus stop bench right across from me, and a few people would sit there for a while, and one young guy laid down on it, closed his eyes, smiled, and tapped his feet for a dozen songs, but most people realize that it's not for general sitting.
About 10:00, I realized that, despite almost nobody stopping, I was having a good time. Part of it was a pretty good sound (reflection from the tile-walled bank?), but another part of it was because of the lack of "assistance". No bums scaring away the people (not that there were many), and nobody helping me out with loud drunken singing along or "funny" song requests.
Unfortunately, realizing that apparently jinxed it. Along came an old guy who promptly parked on the bus stop bench, and started shouting/suggesting 70's rock bands and songs, and bellowing pieces of "Oye Como Va" and "Sunshine of Your Love", as if I should, or even could, play them. He also took to shouting "Thank you!" at the end of each of my songs, as if he was the lead singer addressing the crowd. I initially tried to reason with him that those songs rather required a bass and drummer, but it didn't faze him, so I just started ignoring him and playing the most pointedly non-rock songs I know.
That didn't work either, so I packed up at 10:20 and went home. As I passed by the taxi broker guy, he asked me how I did. I told him: Not too well, but I presume that more people are out on Saturdays. He said that there were, but that the most people are out from 11pm 'til 2am. That explained why he himself had shown up at 10:00, and although it was an intriguing idea, I wasn't really prepared to test it out right then and there.
We'd completely written off Fridays in Laguna Beach, since too-loud-Sanchez had "claimed" the corner on Thursdays and Fridays. But I've been wondering if that really meant *every* Friday, all year round, or if we were staying away for no reason. So I drove down there.
And there he was. On The Corner, standing in front of the bench, with his stuff strewn across it. We always play across from the bench, so listeners can sit on it, but we're at the mercy of the drunks and crazies taking it over, disallowing the civilians access to it. I think maybe Sanchez hates the bums more than he likes a sitting audience.
And the repetitive nature of his music supports that -- he sounds kinda OK if you're just walking by, but if you stick around, it becomes clear that it's all the same, all night long. He doesn't need, or want, people to stay any longer than it takes to put a buck in his guitar case. I, on the other hand, always want the appreciative ones to stay as long as possible, tipping or not.
Anyway, since I couldn't play in Laguna, I went to Plan B: Belmont Shore. There are several blocks along Second Street with a vibrant nightlife -- lots of bars, restaurants, and ginchy stores, and people walking around to take it all in. Rumor had it that one could stand in front of the (obviously closed) Chase bank and play, and although Long Beach apparently has a no-amps law on the books, the guys who play there claim that the cops don't enforce it. I was counting on, at least, a first-offence Warning rather than a fine.
So I drove up PCH, passing through Newport (known no-amp law, with anecdotal reports of cops tightly enforcing it), Huntington Beach (why can't I play here?), Sunset Beach (bars, but no walking zones), and finally Belmont. By this time it was after 8, so I cruised up the street to see if there was anyone else out -- there wasn't. So I found the bank, parked, and dragged my stuff out.
But camped out along the sidewalk in front of the bank was a group of anti-war people, with card tables full of literature and portraits of dead soldiers lined up along the wall. I'm sympathetic, but I didn't want to set up close to them since their vibe wouldn't be conducive to my program, and I didn't want to interfere with theirs. So I went just around the corner of the bank, out of view of their setup, but still visible to passers-by. (They apparently weren't bothered: they smiled and shot me the Peace Sign as they left.)
Just as I was setting up, a kid rolled up on a skateboard, decided that the smooth marble floor and parking berms at this side of the bank were a cool place to skate, and proceeded to make really loud skateboard clacking noises. I figured he'd leave soon, or at least when I started playing, but, for the second time that evening, I figured wrong.
I started anyway, at very low volume -- new place, paranoid me. Lots of people walked by, and a lot of them broke the "no eye contact" street rule and quite a few actually smiled. And a grand total of nine of them pulled out a buck for me. But even so, it was kind of pleasant. Still had the Harley and Lambo noise problem that we get in Laguna, but not nearly as much. A cop car went by three times during the two hours that I was there, and although he took a good long look at me as he cruised by, he never stopped.
I did have a few people stop and listen just a bit. There was a bus stop bench right across from me, and a few people would sit there for a while, and one young guy laid down on it, closed his eyes, smiled, and tapped his feet for a dozen songs, but most people realize that it's not for general sitting.
About 10:00, I realized that, despite almost nobody stopping, I was having a good time. Part of it was a pretty good sound (reflection from the tile-walled bank?), but another part of it was because of the lack of "assistance". No bums scaring away the people (not that there were many), and nobody helping me out with loud drunken singing along or "funny" song requests.
Unfortunately, realizing that apparently jinxed it. Along came an old guy who promptly parked on the bus stop bench, and started shouting/suggesting 70's rock bands and songs, and bellowing pieces of "Oye Como Va" and "Sunshine of Your Love", as if I should, or even could, play them. He also took to shouting "Thank you!" at the end of each of my songs, as if he was the lead singer addressing the crowd. I initially tried to reason with him that those songs rather required a bass and drummer, but it didn't faze him, so I just started ignoring him and playing the most pointedly non-rock songs I know.
That didn't work either, so I packed up at 10:20 and went home. As I passed by the taxi broker guy, he asked me how I did. I told him: Not too well, but I presume that more people are out on Saturdays. He said that there were, but that the most people are out from 11pm 'til 2am. That explained why he himself had shown up at 10:00, and although it was an intriguing idea, I wasn't really prepared to test it out right then and there.
A guy who works for the city and knows me from my playing at the Santa's Workshop hired me to play for his combined wife-birthday and wedding anniversary party. I thought, "Oh boy, I get to play indoors!", but it turns out it was on the "terrace" at the Community Center, outdoors after all. Oh well.
But that's OK, I'm used to it, and I got paid. It was a kinda fancy, but pretty quiet affair. They put up a little stage under an Easy-up, which was nice -- makes me feel like I'm For Real. But like always at a party, I start playing when the first guests get there, and it's too quiet and small for them to applaud after the songs, and as the party fills up (to a hundred or so), that atmosphere lingers. So I was "background music" -- which is fine. I could tell that people were enjoying it by the smiles, if not the applause.
The tricky part of playing a party is that the audience doesn't turn over. At the street corner, I could play six songs in a rotation and almost nobody (except the bums) would notice. But at the party, I had to play three and a half hours without repeating any songs. Fortunately, I happen to know plenty of songs so it's no problem to do just that.
The best part was that there were lots of affluent-looking people there, and quite a few of them came up to get my business card. Presumably, they liked my stuff and are thinking of hiring me for their upcoming events. One lady said she was with the Dana Point Yacht Club and they have "socials" that I'd be perfect for. I gave her an "Audition CD", just to try and cement that idea. And another lady specifically asked me if I knew any Christmas songs, to play at her Christmas party. Why, yes. Yes I do.
A guy who works for the city and knows me from my playing at the Santa's Workshop hired me to play for his combined wife-birthday and wedding anniversary party. I thought, "Oh boy, I get to play indoors!", but it turns out it was on the "terrace" at the Community Center, outdoors after all. Oh well.
But that's OK, I'm used to it, and I got paid. It was a kinda fancy, but pretty quiet affair. They put up a little stage under an Easy-up, which was nice -- makes me feel like I'm For Real. But like always at a party, I start playing when the first guests get there, and it's too quiet and small for them to applaud after the songs, and as the party fills up (to a hundred or so), that atmosphere lingers. So I was "background music" -- which is fine. I could tell that people were enjoying it by the smiles, if not the applause.
The tricky part of playing a party is that the audience doesn't turn over. At the street corner, I could play six songs in a rotation and almost nobody (except the bums) would notice. But at the party, I had to play three and a half hours without repeating any songs. Fortunately, I happen to know plenty of songs so it's no problem to do just that.
The best part was that there were lots of affluent-looking people there, and quite a few of them came up to get my business card. Presumably, they liked my stuff and are thinking of hiring me for their upcoming events. One lady said she was with the Dana Point Yacht Club and they have "socials" that I'd be perfect for. I gave her an "Audition CD", just to try and cement that idea. And another lady specifically asked me if I knew any Christmas songs, to play at her Christmas party. Why, yes. Yes I do.
At the previous week's Open Mic Night, I'd wowed 'em, and the organizer asked me to come back and be the "Featured Performer" this week. Which meant that I'd get to play a half hour, not just four songs. I'm always up for playing more, and hoped that there would be more "civilians" (i.e., people who were not there waiting their turn to play), and especially, that the owner would get a more complete "audition" from me.
There were a lot of ladies in the patio area, but they were there for a birthday, not to listen to the music, so, oh well. But I did play better, and got to do more of a variety of my stuff. And the owner, who can hear the music from anywhere in the place, actually came out from the kitchen area to watch and listen when I fired up "Over the Rainbow", which I took as a good sign.
As the Featured Performer, I went first again, but I stayed to listen to the other guys, too. It went about the same as before -- nice people, earnest, and trying their best. I guess we all have to start somewhere. George, the ukulele guy, sang some more of his songs. I keep wondering why, as he's writing the melody, he doesn't make it fit his vocal range. But he writes 'em so low, he can't even sing 'em. And then, of course, we can't understand the lyrics, so whatever the point of the song was, is lost.
"Buck Fifty" brought his crazy guitar-thing this time. It's a 6-string bass that he's restrung the top three strings with guitar strings, so it sounds like both a bass and guitar at the same time. Or more accurately, neither...
There were two new women there this time. Somebody told me that the first one was "really good" (she wasn't) and Schneider told me that the autoharp lady who went last was "like us: heart of the musician". Maybe so, but she didn't yet have the skills or voice of one.
Anyway, I had a chance to talk to Eddie for a while, and he told me the names of several Long Beach bars and their owners that I should go apply at, though he really thinks that I should just go into any more-local bar that has music and apply there. I guess I'm still working on getting up the nerve to do that...
At the previous week's Open Mic Night, I'd wowed 'em, and the organizer asked me to come back and be the "Featured Performer" this week. Which meant that I'd get to play a half hour, not just four songs. I'm always up for playing more, and hoped that there would be more "civilians" (i.e., people who were not there waiting their turn to play), and especially, that the owner would get a more complete "audition" from me.
There were a lot of ladies in the patio area, but they were there for a birthday, not to listen to the music, so, oh well. But I did play better, and got to do more of a variety of my stuff. And the owner, who can hear the music from anywhere in the place, actually came out from the kitchen area to watch and listen when I fired up "Over the Rainbow", which I took as a good sign.
As the Featured Performer, I went first again, but I stayed to listen to the other guys, too. It went about the same as before -- nice people, earnest, and trying their best. I guess we all have to start somewhere. George, the ukulele guy, sang some more of his songs. I keep wondering why, as he's writing the melody, he doesn't make it fit his vocal range. But he writes 'em so low, he can't even sing 'em. And then, of course, we can't understand the lyrics, so whatever the point of the song was, is lost.
"Buck Fifty" brought his crazy guitar-thing this time. It's a 6-string bass that he's restrung the top three strings with guitar strings, so it sounds like both a bass and guitar at the same time. Or more accurately, neither...
There were two new women there this time. Somebody told me that the first one was "really good" (she wasn't) and Schneider told me that the autoharp lady who went last was "like us: heart of the musician". Maybe so, but she didn't yet have the skills or voice of one.
Anyway, I had a chance to talk to Eddie for a while, and he told me the names of several Long Beach bars and their owners that I should go apply at, though he really thinks that I should just go into any more-local bar that has music and apply there. I guess I'm still working on getting up the nerve to do that...
My daughter is taking a TV production class at the college, and they needed some musicians to come in for the kids to get experience making "live TV". I volunteered.
They treat it like it's going out live, so there's no rehearsal and they don't know anything about the songs -- when/if there's an instrumental verse, when it ends, etc. They have to play it by ear as it were, with the director cutting from camera to camera on instinct. It's like those backstage views of them producing the Academy Awards show, with a guy yelling, "Cut to camera 2!"
The kids take turns acting as cameramen, stage, tech, and actual directors, etc. I just had to try to play my songs without mistakes so they could do their respective jobs around me. Which was harder than it sounds...
I started with "You've Got a Friend", 'cuz I've played so much that I can play it in my sleep. (Of course I also played my best song, "Over the Rainbow", and then, for something not quite so mellow, "Please Come to Boston".) But I'm used to being able to sneak a glance at the music stand to see if I'm, you know, singing the second verse second, and maybe peek at the chords that are coming up. They kept telling me that I didn't, but then strongly implied that I did, have to look into the active camera, or better yet, smile at it.
Now I know that, as a performer, I'm supposed to maintain eye contact with the audience, blah, blah, blah. And I try to, but mostly I like to make sure the music doesn't get screwed up, so I keep more of an eye on the book than the people. And when I do look up, I can look wherever I want to.
But with the pressure to not make any mistakes, and then being obliged to look up at the constantly moving target of whichever of the three cameras had its red light on -- well, it sounds easy, but wasn't, for me anyway. And you can (or at least *I* can) see the discomfort in my eyes as I try to look up, but then panic about the next chord or lyric, or notice that I'm looking at the wrong camera. And I made mistakes in places I've never made them before, like getting the cities out of order in "Please Come to Boston".
After each song, we'd all jam into the little control room to watch the playback, and a critique and compliment session from the director and teacher. Then the kids would get musical chaired into new positions for the next song.
So, nerve-wracking but fun, and I ended up with some pretty nice videos to post on my webpage and Facebook, and maybe use to get some gigs. But the weirdest part was spending the afternoon being referred to as "The Talent". It's oddly impersonal but complimentary at the same time.
My daughter is taking a TV production class at the college, and they needed some musicians to come in for the kids to get experience making "live TV". I volunteered.
They treat it like it's going out live, so there's no rehearsal and they don't know anything about the songs -- when/if there's an instrumental verse, when it ends, etc. They have to play it by ear as it were, with the director cutting from camera to camera on instinct. It's like those backstage views of them producing the Academy Awards show, with a guy yelling, "Cut to camera 2!"
The kids take turns acting as cameramen, stage, tech, and actual directors, etc. I just had to try to play my songs without mistakes so they could do their respective jobs around me. Which was harder than it sounds...
I started with "You've Got a Friend", 'cuz I've played so much that I can play it in my sleep. (Of course I also played my best song, "Over the Rainbow", and then, for something not quite so mellow, "Please Come to Boston".) But I'm used to being able to sneak a glance at the music stand to see if I'm, you know, singing the second verse second, and maybe peek at the chords that are coming up. They kept telling me that I didn't, but then strongly implied that I did, have to look into the active camera, or better yet, smile at it.
Now I know that, as a performer, I'm supposed to maintain eye contact with the audience, blah, blah, blah. And I try to, but mostly I like to make sure the music doesn't get screwed up, so I keep more of an eye on the book than the people. And when I do look up, I can look wherever I want to.
But with the pressure to not make any mistakes, and then being obliged to look up at the constantly moving target of whichever of the three cameras had its red light on -- well, it sounds easy, but wasn't, for me anyway. And you can (or at least *I* can) see the discomfort in my eyes as I try to look up, but then panic about the next chord or lyric, or notice that I'm looking at the wrong camera. And I made mistakes in places I've never made them before, like getting the cities out of order in "Please Come to Boston".
After each song, we'd all jam into the little control room to watch the playback, and a critique and compliment session from the director and teacher. Then the kids would get musical chaired into new positions for the next song.
So, nerve-wracking but fun, and I ended up with some pretty nice videos to post on my webpage and Facebook, and maybe use to get some gigs. But the weirdest part was spending the afternoon being referred to as "The Talent". It's oddly impersonal but complimentary at the same time.
