Keith at Tommy Bahama -- Wednesday, 28Jan2015

I decided that it was time to just march into Tommy Bahama (on PCH just a block south of The Corner) and ask the manager if I could play there. So I did and they told me that the General Manager made those decisions, but he wasn't in -- come back tomorrow.

Deflated but smarter, I came back and asked for the GM, gave him a flyer and CD, and asked what I have to do. He said that I needed to audition, but that he was going on a week-long trip tomorrow. I told him that I had my stuff in the car and could play right now, and he agreed.

That turned out to be a mistake in several ways. One, my car was far away and all uphill, so by the time I was back with the stuff and started, I was winded and sweating. Two, it was only late afternoon, so the place was nearly empty and not really ready to join in yet. And three, although the GM didn't mention it, there was another guy coming in to play the evening set.

So I played my nine best songs to the backs of the half-dozen people at the bar and the Sports TV, getting some nice smiles and two dollars, but not much else. And the GM spent almost the whole time in his office where he *might* have been able to hear me, but certainly couldn't gauge the crowd's reaction, such as it was.

Then the other guy walked in with his guitar case, gave me a "What the heck?" look, and continued on to find the GM. Who came out and thanked me and all, and said he'd call, but I could tell it hadn't gone well. (And, of course, he never called.)

I tore down as fast as I could and took my stuff back to the car. But I couldn't resist coming back to stand outside and hear what this other guy sounded like. And frankly, I'm way better than him. He just stood there strumming country rock songs like "Cripple Creek". Competent, but that's all.

But of course, it's not all about skill. Maybe the GM just liked his repertoire better than mine. Or he's the nephew, who knows?

But it's certainly put a damper on my enthusiasm for trying to find an indoor/paying gig. Now I'm afraid to even try other places, for fear of burning more bridges. Drat.