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.
Saturday was rained (misted?) out, and Sunday started out the same, but finally seemed to be clear enough to give it a try. Indeed, a while after I started the sun burned through and it got downright hot. I had to take off my trademark vest! (But not the hat. Never the hat.)
My first song is always "Hotel California", and my second tends to be "The Boxer". As I was playing it, a guy saw me standing there alone doing Simon & Garfunkel, so he came over and started to sing harmony. I smiled in encouragement, but the harmony box is already singing the Garfunkel part, so he was confused at first. But then he seemed to figure it out, and jumped up a bit, inventing a "Nash", fifth-above, harmony. Then that got a little weird (and high!), so he jumped down and tried to fill in a third-below harmony instead. A noble effort.
When it was over, he complimented my "picking" and I asked him to choose the next song. He went for "Homeward Bound", and I offered to leave the harmony box off this time so he could take over. And he did a great job. It was hard to resist my now-instinctual left-foot reaching for the box buttons, but I managed to keep my foot on the ground. Turns out he's in several bands back home in Colorado, and this was quite a bit of fun for him on his vacation. Come by any time, Pete!
A family came by with a baby in a stroller and her music fan (and eyewear fashionista) big sister, so naturally I fired up "Twinkle Twinkle". That roped them in, and little Bentley pored over the picture menu and asked for "Under the Sea" and then "Do You Want to Build a Snowman?". Where's the Downtown Disney booking guy when you need him?
Three grandmas came by and stood by the rail to listen for a while. I offered them the list, and one of them read through it and surprised me by asking for "The Weight". I said, "By 'The Band'?!?", and she said, "Yes, of course. I know my music!" No slight intended -- I was just expecting her to ask for something more like "Georgia On My Mind" or "The Way You Look Tonight".
The guy who I'm reasonably sure is the owner of the coffee/ice cream shop(s) and who hassled me to turn it down on my first outing was there again, but he didn't give me any trouble this time, again. I'm either quiet enough for his taste now, or he's catching on that I'm popular and probably good for business. Most places have to pay a guy to come in and do live music.
But anyway, I'm feeling less paranoid, and getting a little braver about being a little louder. It's so blissfully quiet down there that a little is plenty -- I just really need to know if the amp is still working. If it's too quiet, I can't tell when the wireless transmitter batteries have died and I'm "off the air".
I guess the fear of being shut out in Laguna sets me up for a "double header", even on "our turn" Saturdays. But I don't want to thrash my back, feet, and fingers too much, and I need to get the batteries back on the chargers so I'll have enough juice for the evening, so I just played 10-noon again. And I had a nice brunch crowd, so that worked out.
Weirdest thing: a big angry guy came stomping down the promenade towards me, knocking over the fancy (and heavy!) metal trash cans as he passed them. But he just kept going, so after a while a lady came over and put it back up again. Dude, what was that all about?
And apparently Jesus came by while I wasn't looking and left his business card wrapped in a fiver. But there wasn't any actual contact info on the card, so maybe it wasn't so much a business card as a musical opinion. Thanks, man.
On Sunday, I played from 10:30 until about 2 when my fingers felt like hamburger and I needed one for lunch. Lots of cute kids out.
A guy came up and said that his daughter was re-opening a closed coffee shop in Laguna Beach, and he was going to take my card to her because "You'd be perfect". Sounds great, but since the "comes through" rate on these kinds of things is pretty close to zero, I won't be holding my breath...
As feared/expected, Fiddle Kid was holding The Corner hostage when we got there at 6:30, but Warren negotiated its release so we could get started at 7. Somehow, maybe because I'd already played for two hours at Dana Point, I was feeling very loose about the whole thing -- playing and singing with abandon. Or as much "abandon" as this uptight white boy gets...
Also, after 30-some years of fingerpicking and essentially forgetting how to strum, the advent of the new guitar and its strumability is getting really fun to me. I'm still not willing to try to play full-on rock songs on my acoustic guitar (and I hope that the world is with me on that), but it's fun to get a little wild on the thing.
We didn't gather many big crowds, but it didn't seem like were all alone much, either. We had plenty of small groups to play for and fulfill their requests. A cute young couple came by and stopped to listen to "Moonshadow". After they said that they were big Cat Stevens fans, I started to read them the list of his stuff that I know, but the girlfriend stopped me at "How Can I Tell You" as the perfect song for them, and they cuddled all the way through it. Cute.
My old doctor (that I can't go to anymore because my insurance changed) came through with her dad and her tween daughter. She just stomped right up to me and started talking to me even though I was kinda busy singing. She asked for "Imagine" and after someone else's "The Boxer" request, she wanted "Puff, the Magic Dragon".
She may have been a little tipsy, 'cuz she was doing the Sexy Hippie Chick Wiggle Dance to any and everything, much to the consternation of her daughter (though it didn't seem to faze her dad). It's a little awkward to see your (ex) doctor out of context, but I actually kind of prefer having a Real Human. I'm gonna have to see if they've changed policies so I can go back to her next time I need some doctoring. She's way more fun than my new one.
We had quite a lot of dancing, for some reason. One guy came up and asked for "anything by Bob Marley", so I pulled out my version of "Three Little Birds" ("Every little thing, gonna be all right"), with less embarrassment than usual. I do have an active policy to try to have at least one song by Nearly Everybody (within reason of course), and it does work out every once in a while.
A big group of bar-hoppers came through and a girl called out "Play some Gwen Stefani!" I replied that that wasn't exactly in my wheelhouse, and she immediately blurted out "Beatles!" instead. That was impressively on-second-thought perceptive -- 60 to 0 in nothing flat.
