Laguna Beach has its "Hospitality Night" on the first Friday of December, when they close off their main street for a big "block party", and Santa comes by to light up the historic pepper tree in front of city hall. My friend in the Laguna Beach Historic Society has me come play from the front porch of their downtown historic bungalow headquarters, hoping to entice some passers-by to come in and look at their historic artifacts and photos.
And it certainly worked. Despite the cold Santa Ana winds, lots of people were out, and most of them stopped for a while to listen (sometimes pointedly crossing the street to do so). Fortunately, the wind graciously mostly died down while I was playing, coming back with a vengeance just as I was leaving and driving home.
I had someone to play for almost the whole time, and three or four times I had the entire sidewalk jammed with listeners. And I must have had a dozen groups stop to listen for a while, and then someone says, "You know, I've never been in here", and someone else, "Let's go in, then!", so it worked beautifully as a promo for the Historic Society.
Several times I had people come up onto the porch and sing along, softly. One lady seemed reasonably bold, so I asked her to sing the Girl Part to "Baby, It's Cold Outside", and she made a swing at it, but turned out to not actually know the tune outside of the first few lines. Oh well, fun for both of us anyway.
Anyway, it was fun -- and great to have a gig where I get to play the schmaltzy Christmas songs and people actually listen and appreciate it. I can't really do those at my nine Santa Claus gigs.
It was clouded over and seemed like it was gonna get really cold -- which made for a great sunset, but I wasn't expecting many people to be out. But it wasn't too bad, and we had plenty of people come by, especially a lot of families with kids. I think I hit a new record of "Twinkle Twinkles" per evening.
One little baby lit up with a smile so big that her dad had to grab the pacifier before it fell out of her mouth. She was so small that I didn't really expect her to even recognize it, but nope, she was All In.
A big ol' cowboy came up and asked me to sing a song for his girlfriend back in New York (?) to show her how much he misses her. Wanted me to insert her name, "Billie Joey" into the song. Uhhh, what now? So I tried to think of a "missing you" song, but couldn't, and had him scan the list.
He went for "Carolina In My Mind", which, OK, at least the syllables line up, but it didn't really make much sense when I sang it as "Gone to Billie Joey in my mind". But he seemed happy with the video he took of it, and dropped, apparently, all the change in his pocket into the tip jar. Now we know what I'll do for a buck eighty-seven...
I'd worked up two new songs to try, and both worked pretty well. One was a bluegrass-tinged version of Bruce Springsteen's "I'm On Fire" that I stole from a YouTube video I stumbled upon. I've always liked that song, and I'm loving this version of it.
The other was "Seven Bridges Road" by the Eagles, which, for some reason, I've been asked for several times lately. The first and last verses are a capella five-part harmony, so I don't know why people keep thinking that there's any way a single guy could pull it off, but I guess it's flattering that they overestimate me to the point that they think I could.
But I decided to give it a go with the harmony box, not really expecting to get away with it, but it works, and it works *really* well. Indeed, the worst part of the song is the middle section where the flatpicked guitar comes in, and I'm terrible at flatpicking, so I'm faking/stumbling my way through it. But that might just be a matter of practice, and now I have a reason to.
Anyway, it's quite a rush to stand out there and just *sing*, unaccompanied and bald-faced. And not just "sing", but "belt". Dunno if it's exhilaration or fear, though. Is there a difference?
I hadn't played down there in six weeks, so I was really looking forward to it. Of course it's way past tourist season, but we had people to play to the whole time.
Since my month off of performing, I feel a lot "looser". Surprisingly, I seem to have forgotten almost nothing about how to play the songs, but being so distant from the last time playing them has somehow given me a freedom to reinterpret them, and not play them identically to how I always have. It's hard to describe, but it's fun -- and, I think, more "musical". (Or, I suppose, less -- if what it is is just a newfound sloppiness...)
Anyway, Warren got there plenty early to make sure to get The Corner, called me with the good news and I got there and we were playing by 6:45. The early start turned out to be a very good thing because at 8:40, the beat cops came by to inform us that The Captain had decided to enforce the part of the city statute that prohibits amplifier use after 9pm. This is a real bummer since frequently it only gets really fun after nine, and we've been known to play well past midnight.
At least this didn't come down during the summer. As it is, the audience was starting to fade away anyway, but this will put a serious crimp in how much fun it is to play down there.
The funny part is that, in answer to Warren's query, the policewoman said that, yes, it was in response to complaints from the local businesses. Which is ludicrous, since they're all closed by 9pm, except the ice cream store that stays open as long as there are people buying ice cream, for which they are quite pleased to have us out there bringing people over.
I wonder how hard it is for a non-Laguna resident to get the city to change a law...
When I pulled past the corner at 4:30, Chris the Catatonic Fiddle Player was there. But by the time I had parked and walked down there he was just leaving (though he reappeared about 8:00 to presumptuously demand a long string of requests. What was up with that?) I nabbed The Corner, but it meant that I started so early that the batteries died at 10. I suppose they did me a favor, cutting me off at 5 hours, but there were still people around...
Anyway, it was a pretty good night, I consistently had people around to play for but only any really big crowds a few times. (Warren had abandoned me for a band he wanted to see up at the Sawdust Festival. Me, I'm savagely boycotting the Sawdust because of my unexplained and unjustified black-balling. I'm sure they're feeling the sting.)
I did have a cute puppy, and one very successful “Let It Go” singalong. And one big teenage girl dance party and they dragged in some teenage boys from up the street a ways to dance to "Hey There, Delilah", "Don't Stop Believing" and more. That was fun.
But there was some potential new competition. A very large guy and very small lady walked by with a cart full of equipment: guitar, a full-size standup bass fiddle, amps, etc. They went down to the alley and played 60s rock 'n' roll. I heard "Magic Carpet Ride" and "Get Together". Complainin' Doug came by and he thought that they were pretty good, but I couldn't hear them from such a distance to know that for sure. I just have a bad feeling that they're yet another group angling to snag The Corner...
A lady came by and listen for a while and then came up and asked me if I play parties. I told her I did and she asked how much for how long and I told her. That seemed to meet her approval and she asked me to play at her mom's house party tomorrow evening. Unfortunately that's exactly when I already have a house party gig! I only play 10 parties a year -- how did this happen!?!
She wandered off but came back after a while and asked if I knew anybody else that could come and play. I told her, "Well, I play music, but I'm not really in any kid of "music players club..."
Later on, a guy came up and said that he had no cash, so he had liked my Facebook page instead. Cool -- that works for me.
And a funny old guy, snappily dressed in his tweed sports coat and straight from the Old Country, came right up and said, "I luff yer myuzeek! But! Do you know any... Bobe Die-len?" I do know a few, but they're really other people's versions of Dylan songs: "Mr. Tambourine Man" by The Byrds, and "Don't Think Twice" by Peter, Paul, and Mary, which is the one I did for him. Seemed to be sufficient, but I should probably try to find a song I can play more like ol' Bobe himself, just for these die hards.
I went to Minnesota for a week to visit my inexplicably-moved old music friend from high school. He managed to set us up a duo gig at the place he plays semi-regularly, whose name is variable, but usually some variant of "Captain's Lakeside Bar and Grill".
It was like nothing we have in California. Kind of a complex, with a ballroom with bar, a small restaurant, and a big patio. And a campground attached. And because it was Friday, a Meat Raffle where they raffle, like, meat. Every Friday. And people come out expressly to get in on the raffle. Of the meat.
Toto, I don't think we're in California anymore.
We played on the patio, and there were already some people there, and one nice lady who clapped loudly right from the first song, yelling "Awesome!" and such after each one. Other people came, and given a choice of sitting at tables far from us or right up close, most of them chose up close, which is flattering.
We started out in front of a little gazebo thing, but it started to rain, so we had to back up underneath it so we wouldn't kill our electronics or, you know, selves. Fortunately, the tables all had umbrellas, and this is Minnesota so nobody left because of the rain, or even seem to notice, really. What's a little rain when there's meat being raffled?
We did all songs from my book, since Bobby can follow and enhance anybody, and I'm useless. Sometimes he played bass, and sometimes the new guitar we'd bought on our road trip to his favorite gigantic guitar store over in Wisconsin. I struggled a little with the loaner not-my-guitar and its too-skinny neck, but mostly got away with it.
And people really seemed to like us, even though we weren't ('cuz I can't) doing country or bar songs. Bobby had warned me off of doing the really mellow stuff that's my forte, but as the evening progressed, it seemed that there was room for some of that, and as he began to relent on that stance, I started to cheat a bit.
Anyway, several people came up to say how good we sounded, and we got two (!) job offers, one of which Bobby signed up for on the spot, though only as a solo, obviously. Even the owner reportedly said that it was a shame that I don't live here 'cuz she'd like to have us back, and apparently she never compliments anybody.
Part way through we took a break (Bobby: Let's take a break. Me: What's a "break"?), and then Bobby decided to just let me play some more as a solo, which was fun too, mostly 'cuz I got to choose songs that he wouldn't have allowed if he was up there: "Fire and Rain", "Over the Rainbow", etc.
Anyway, it was easily the most-fun gig I've had in a long time, because of the wildly different venue, the incredible response (if smallish audience), and because it was a blast to be playing with Bobby again. And because even the Meat Raffle people liked us -- they came right up and said so.
When I got to the corner, the didgeridoo boys were there again, but this time, they were just setting up, not about to tear down. I shoulda just cut and run (to Dana Point), but Warren thought we might do OK on the no-longer-Fingerhut corner, so I set up there. He was wrong. Almost nobody stopped all night. And it put us too close to Charles, who screams into an all-treble amp along with his all-treble Telecaster, and new competition Uke Girl, who decided to set up in the alcove just up Forest. That put us at the nexus of three other bands, all no more than 50 feet away.
The only brief highlights were a lady and her boyfriend dancing away to several songs in a row, one little girl who danced in the cloud of my new bubble machine, and the arrival of the Elliot sisters (friends from high school) and their assorted husbands and brothers.
We also had an old Toshiba colleague who requested his favorite song (The Boxer) just as my microphone started acting up. We had actually accumulated a small crowd at that point (small, but the largest of the night), but after my 10 minutes of screwing around trying to figure out why it was fading in and out (a symptom I'd never seen before), they were all dispersed, except our friend. And after his song, he was gone, too, and we were left to play to only our reflections in the store window again.
The didgeridoo boys left around 10:00, and we moved over to the ice cream corner, hoping to get something going, but it was too late. We did have a *super* friendly kid who had stopped to admire the music while we were on the other side, and helped me move my stuff over -- but he left when Lena, a local bipolar lady, came by and started cussing him out for no reason at all. Indeed, her rantings got so out of hand that we just decided that enough was enough, and packed up to go home.
When I got to the corner, the didgeridoo boys were there again, but this time, they were just setting up, not about to tear down. I shoulda just cut and run (to Dana Point), but Warren thought we might do OK on the no-longer-Fingerhut corner, so I set up there. He was wrong. Almost nobody stopped all night. And it put us too close to Charles, who screams into an all-treble amp along with his all-treble Telecaster, and new competition Uke Girl, who decided to set up in the alcove just up Forest. That put us at the nexus of three other bands, all no more than 50 feet away.
The only brief highlights were a lady and her boyfriend dancing away to several songs in a row, one little girl who danced in the cloud of my new bubble machine, and the arrival of the Elliot sisters (friends from high school) and their assorted husbands and brothers.
We also had an old Toshiba colleague who requested his favorite song (The Boxer) just as my microphone started acting up. We had actually accumulated a small crowd at that point (small, but the largest of the night), but after my 10 minutes of screwing around trying to figure out why it was fading in and out (a symptom I'd never seen before), they were all dispersed, except our friend. And after his song, he was gone, too, and we were left to play to only our reflections in the store window again.
The didgeridoo boys left around 10:00, and we moved over to the ice cream corner, hoping to get something going, but it was too late. We did have a *super* friendly kid who had stopped to admire the music while we were on the other side, and helped me move my stuff over -- but he left when Lena, a local bipolar lady, came by and started cussing him out for no reason at all. Indeed, her rantings got so out of hand that we just decided that enough was enough, and packed up to go home.
I tried to get there early, but the summer traffic jam got me. When I got to The Corner at 6, there was a Digeridoo and Hand Pan band already set up, playing cool weird drone-y space music. Fortunately, they were just about done and turned the spot over to me.
I was near the end of the first verse of "Country Roads" when a kid came by whose dad said that it was his favorite song and that he knew all the words -- so I called him up, "Let It Go" style. And he did, too.
The bubble machine was, of course, a big hit. One family stopped and the kids asked for song after song, but none of them were from "Little Mermaid"! I finally resorted to turning it on for "Over the Rainbow". Close enough, right?
Another family stopped and the dad was completely thrilled that I knew "Moonshadow", reportedly a *huge* favorite of his little boy. But everybody *except* the little boy was stoked to hear it, despite their excited urging -- I think it was way past his bedtime...
Crazy local character David stopped by, with his wacky no-bones dance moves and caricature "business" (he gives them away for free, since he's still learning the trade). Somehow he always arrives when I'm in the middle of a slow mellow song (what are the odds?!?), and his herky-jerky chicken dance doesn't quite work, but he throws it out there anyway. He did a sketch of Warren and I, as shown. I'm sure he'll improve with time.
Anyway, a nice busy day and evening, with lots of people out. Strangely not as many in my Target Market as usual, which affected the audience and tip jar. But we had some fun and made some people happy, and that's what it's about.
Last weekend I nearly died out there playing in the sun in this heatwave, so I found me a cleverly-adjustable sun umbrella, and attached an extendable window-washing pole to the amp's rolling cart to get it up high enough to clear me and my hat. Took some finagling to get it positioned right, but it worked great. A nice lady came by and said, "Oh good, you got an umbrella. I was worried about you!" Nice to have that one out of the way, but there are plenty of other reasons to worry about me...
I also finally broke down and bought an "Under the Sea" bubble wand the last time I was at Disneyland. Then in a perfect storm of happenstances, two sisters came by, each holding their Ariel Barbies. I showed them the list, and they chose "Part of Your World", my favorite song from "The Little Mermaid", and I fired up the bubble machine, as I played it. Four (or more?) more little kids appeared from nowhere, and it was a bubble party!
Of course, what I hadn't thought of was, once you start, how can you turn it off? I stood there for a while after the song was over wondering, "Why did I go to all that trouble to learn how to play this guitar?"
I went down from 9 to 11 on Saturday morning, just to try to determine when the best time to be down there is. And then I went down again in the evening and had a pretty big crowd around 7:30. And then again on Sunday, brunch-time. Somewhere along the line, a lady picked up a business card, and on Sunday afternoon she emailed me and hired me to play a birthday party in September. That's how it's *supposed* to work!
Now that all the art festivals are open, it's getting tough (and expensive!) to park down there, but it's worth it. Nice night, lots of people. It never really "clicked" somehow, but fun anyway.
A couple of little girls with too-big ice cream cones wanted "Let It Go" (imagine my surprise!), and the littler one came up to theoretically sing along, but she was far too interested in the ice cream to actually do any singing. Cute, though.
It was the first weekend since the release of the global "Pokemon Go" phenomenon, and hundreds of people were playing as they walked by. You can tell who's playing (versus just texting or trying to find the next bar on the map) 'cuz they almost always have an external battery wired to the phone they're glued to, since the game is a huge battery drain.
Some of my old Indian Princess friends came by, and naturally wanted to hear my Princess campout greatest hit, "Waltzing With Bears". I never play it anymore, but it's still in The Book, and I mostly remembered how to play it.
Around midnight an older fellow showed up and hung around at the side bench, apparently waiting for us to finish, 'cuz as soon as I gave up at 12:30 and started tearing down, he came over to rant at me about how there are plenty of "number ones" and these musicians these days don't play them. I pointed out that this was pretty much *exactly* my philosophy too -- I play the most-known hits of the best-known bands (in an admittedly time-limited swath) -- but he kept telling me, again and again about the "number ones" like it was some kind of X-Files conspiracy. I'm with you, dude, and I'm on it!
I decided to try some different times, to see when the best time to play is. So I went from 9-11:30 and also in the evening 6:30-10:30. Neither was great, but both were OK.
In the morning, the Harbor Patrol/Sheriff/Fire boat came and docked right next to where I was playing. I thought, "Oh boy; here we go.", but decided to just keep playing and let them interrupt if they thought they had a reason to shake me down. I have my Permit, and am following (most of) the Rules laid down, so I should be OK. So I just kept playing, and playing, and they never even came by. Must have just come for some coffee.
And then on Saturday night, another heavily belt-accessorized guy came tromping up the Promenade towards me in his mil-spec boots, but he cut across the patio and never even approached me, either. Now, I'm glad nobody's called me out (yet), but why did I go to all the trouble to get that Permit if nobody's gonna check it?!?
(I actually think that I'm doing it so brazenly, and sounding completely professional, that they just have to assume I'm legit, so they don't hassle me. Which it great, I guess.)
I decided that I had to try Saturday night, just as a place to play when it's not Our Turn in Laguna. But it was kind of tough to gather an audience, because the patio space is owned by the coffee/ice cream shop, and they take the chairs away in the evening (even though they're still open!), which seems kind of mean.
But I can still play to the people strolling (and jogging, and dog-walking) by, and I had a pair of moms come by with their two bestie daughters. After I roped the girls in with my picture-menu Kids' request list, they just plopped down to listen. Some college girls came by and decided that they could do that, too, and we had us a great little concert there for a while.
A family came by who had recently relocated here from Pennsylvania, so they wanted all the "California" songs: the one about the hotel, and "Ventura Highway", and then they mercifully branched out into other types of songs. They stayed for at least an hour, and while I was playing for them, I looked over and there was a little dinghy docked over the railing, and the people were just chilling and listening to me like they had front row concert tickets. Apparently they could hear just fine from over there, although I'm theoretically not supposed to send any sound out over the water.
A 12-year-old kid came up to me and asked if I knew "Peaceful Easy Feeling". I do, and after he had sternly instructed his dad to take pictures and video, I played it, and he stood next to me and acted out the words in gestures -- I don't think he was even singing. Not sure what that was about. After the song, as he was walking away, he stopped and asked, "Can we order you for, like, a party?" I suppose so, kid, but I'm not a pizza...
On Sunday, I went down again in the morning, though it was already too hot. A nice old lady was up at the tables and she waved, then blew me a kiss, and stayed the whole time I was there, reading her book and clapping loudly between songs. Sweet.
I've been putting business cards down next to the tip jar, and lots of them disappear when I play down there. I hope something eventually comes of that...
Another pretty great night -- summer's definitely finally here. A lot of traffic on the way down there and parking was a nightmare, but worth it. Lots of friendly listeners, requests, dancing, free ice cream, and tips. We must be getting better -- we seem to be inspiring lots more five-dollar bills these days, and somebody slipped in a five Euro note. Cool.
Had another "Let It Go" singalong, and also played "Do You Want to Build a Snowman", though a teenaged girl on the bench was vastly more thrilled about it than the little girl I was playing it for.
Near midnight, a couple showed up and the guy was delighted to find "Your Song" on the list because it was "their song". He's shown here applying chapstick in anticipation of some smooching during their slow dance to it.
It was delightfully free of bum interference all night, until the very end when sweet but addled and Way Too Friendly Wendy came by. But it was almost midnight and time to quit anyway -- I couldn't get any of the Woo Girls to stop, despite my best efforts.
I sure wish we could play there every Saturday, but at least Tom seems to be holding to the deal of trading off every other one. It could be worse.
I've finally broken my "Every Gig" rule for these posts, in that I didn't post one for last time at Uncorked, simply because nothing novel happened. But this time was different...
Not *all* that different, but it was really fun because there were *some* people there, but it wasn't full, so it was quieter and people were more inclined to listen and request songs. I had some appreciative people at first, and one guy asked me to play "Vincent", which *never* gets requested, and a lady wanted me to play "Lemon Tree" because her husband had never heard it. Um, OK.
But as it got later, it mostly emptied out, and then a couple came in and Mister Big Beard was *totally* down to pick some songs. And he did, wall to wall, for an hour or so, until an older couple came in and he insisted -- no, demanded -- that they pick some.
The old guy decided that looking at the list was "cheating", so he just named stuff, songs or artists, that he wanted to hear. I knew a few of them, and had "adjacent" songs for the rest. Like, he asked if I knew any Marty Robbins, and I played "Cool Water" instead. I ended up playing a bunch of stuff off of my "Seniors" list that I created for when I play at the old folk's home: "Tennessee Waltz", "South of the Border", "Today", "I'll Never Find Another You", "Moon River", etc. It was refreshing to get away from my Top Twenty for once.
When it was closing time, the lady went up to one of the guys and told him how great it was to come in there and hear some soft, nice music, and how they'd definitely be back. Sometimes I wonder if I'm "worth my salt" playing there, but I hope that helps them feel like I'm justified.
Wow! That's more like it! That's the Laguna gigs we used to know and love! Lots of people out, young and old (my target demo!), generous with their time, attention, requests, and tips! We played virtually all requested songs from 7:00 until a little after midnight when the batteries gave up.
For some reason it was a big night for "Hey, Jude" and "Bridge Over Troubled Water". Had a great "Let It Go" singalong, with two little girls being watched by at least 20 cute-struck bystanders. Requests were stacking up three deep at times. One guy asked for "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes", and when its turn came around, I announced, "OK, I'm gonna play 'Suite: Judy Blue Eyes' for this guy, though I'm pretty sure he only asked for it to see if I could pull it off". He laughed hard at that, so apparently I was right. Fortunately, I pretty much can.
I was playing "Hotel California" to a pretty big crowd, and during the last verse, two VERY LOUD Harleys pulled over at the curb right behind me, completely drowning me out. I turned around and pointedly gave them several dirty looks, but kept playing, hoping they'd leave soon. But they didn't, so during the usually-fingerpicked final instrumental verse/outro, I gave up and switched to exaggeratedly slam-strumming the chords as loud as I could instead, much to the amusement of the crowd.
Warren had gone down earlier than I did, to make sure to snag The Corner, and he brought his mic and stand to do some tunes before I got there. Once I did, he went off for a snack, and a teenage girl saw the mic and came up and said, "Can I sing a duet?" I said sure, and she sang along, kinda, to "Hotel California". Fortunately, Warren had left the thing off...
But then again at midnight, a pair of drunk Woo Girls showed up and one saw the mic and wanted to sing. Since almost nobody was around that late, I let her sing along to "Landslide", one of the few Obviously Girl songs on my list (though I do it a minor third lower than the recording). She wanted to do another one, so I fired up "It's My Party". She was game enough, but, you know, drunk, and I guess the batteries decided to play critic, 'cuz just before the end of it, the amp just died.
This actually turned into three events this time. There's a party the night before, the Fête itself, and I played at the reception after the Fête. In order:
The party is always at a mansion up on the cliff overlooking the city and ocean. All the musicians are invited, and the members of the Sister Cities Association that puts on the Fête. Some of the performers play at the party, and the talent recruiter, Ken, always asks me to. The first year I came to the party, the sound system was terrible, so last year I brought my own. This year I told Ken I'd be bringing my own stuff and he swore that I didn't need to because another group (gypsy music) was bringing theirs, and it's a good one. It wasn't. Yes, partial fault of the loud and boomy room, but I did a lot better with my own stuff last year -- and I won't fall for it next year, neither.
The performers stand against the all-glass wall, with paper shades blocking the blaring sun. But as I was playing, the sun was finally setting, and the owner opened the motorized shades so people could watch it. While the little motors were grinding away, I quickly fired up the guitar parts of "Here Comes the Sun", which everyone recognized as Pretty Clever. But then they turned on me when the shade opening was done and I quit playing it. Sorry folks -- it's a great song of course, but I only have time for 5 or 6 songs, and it's regrettably not one of my best.
Inexplicably, I spent most of the night hanging out with the youngest people there, a 5-piece R&B (!) band called "Caramelle". The singer just graduated from high school, and the rest are early collegians. Nice bunch of kids. A subset got up and did a few songs, including their trademark mashup of "I Will Survive" and "Fly Me to the Moon". Very clever.
This was my fifth year at the Fête, and I was at the same spot in front of Johnny Rockets. We're having a heat wave, so there were lots of people out for the beach, but it was more fun than last year because this time they seemed to be more willing to stop and listen for a while. Several couples that were at the party came by to hear a bit more, which was flattering. One Russian guy straight out of a John Landis comedy stopped and made his wife endure several songs before she was able to drag him away.
Two years ago, I just moved from "my spot" to The Corner after the Fête was over and played some more. But this year, Tom let us know that he was going to bogart The Corner, again, so I had an idea: I asked the Sister Cities lady to ask the restaurant if it would be OK for me to play during their after-Fête reception. I figured it could be a back-door audition to maybe play there for real, or at least more opportunity to see if these Laguna Beach society people might know of any coffee shops or wine bars or even just private parties that I could play at.
And that may have worked, a little. But the playing itself fell squarely into "Be careful what you wish for" territory. It was *really* loud in there, with the live room and all the people having their party -- which is fine, but it's no fun to stand at the edge and play into.
Afterwards, my friend made a point of introducing me to the Manager and General Manager, and they both smiled and nodded and made "Yes, yes, very nice" noises, but clearly they have no intention of dislodging George who's been playing there for, literally, 20 years.
But you know what? You're welcome to it, George. That doesn't look like any fun to me at all, and I'm glad to have it out of my system.
When the Artisan Faire lady texted me last minute to see if I was available to play, I told her that I was already booked in Laguna that day, and if I did come, I'd have to quit at noon to make it there on time. She apparently had no other options, so signed me up anyway, 10-12 instead of 10-2.
I was glad I only had to stand there for two hours because, as always, it was nearly deserted. And it got me out of the sun before the real heat set in. But it gave me a chance to try my new sound system in a parking lot setting. Turns out it's got plenty of power to do that, but I can't use three quarters of it because the guitar feedback sets in. But I could get it plenty loud enough to cover this ever-shrinking and ghost town-quiet event.
So I played for almost nobody, with occasional scatterings of applause from the vendors out there, and the very few customers. I did have one lady come by and buy one of my 25-song "Favorites" CDs. She stood there reading through the song list on it and sadly said, "I know every song on here; how bad is that?" And I said, "No, that's *good*!" I guess she thought it meant that she was old, but doesn't it mean the same thing about me, then?
The Mission Viejo "City Events" sign on the main intersection by City Hall is on my way home from Laguna. I was shocked to catch my name on it just as the light turned green. You'd'a thought the Faire lady would have mentioned that.
