I have three shows to tell you about. I am falling behind out of pure exhaustion. I am lucky that I am typing this on an iPad. I don’t think I would have the strength to push down actual keys on a laptop. The fingers are the second thing to go at my age.
Two years ago a lovely couple heard our band play. They said, “If we ever get married, we will hire you to play at our wedding.” Happy ending: they got married and we played their wedding rehearsal dinner. Yes, we ARE apparently available for weddings and Bar Mitvahs. It was held on Block Island, RI.
Do you know how to get to Block Island? That’s right. Practice. Because the first time you try to find Block Island you will miss it by a thousand miles. I seem to be doing nothing but grumbling about travel problems lately… so suffice it to say… it weren’t easy. We flew, got delayed, we drove, got lost… yada yada yada… we missed our ferry. That’s all you need to know. I renounce my title as Mr. Cranky Pants.
Block Island is really wonderful. We were put up in a lovely hotel and everyone at the event was terrific. I have nothing to be snarky about and frankly, I am uncomfortable with this level of contentment.
We had to get up very, very early in the AM the next day to drive six hours to Rangely, Maine. It took forever. The highway became a two lane road with signs warning us of inevitable moose collisions. Do you have any idea how disappointing it is to get all worked up about running into a moose and have zero moose crashes? I’m certainly happy for the moose but when the highway sign says, “High level of moose related accidents”… Well, damn it, I want to see moose dodging cars like a Frogger game with antlers.
But no… we pulled into the venue with our grill free of moose meat… about ten minutes before we had to play. I don’t think I have ever cut it that close before. (Quoting Lorena Bobbitt) The scene before us… a huge lake nestled in the lovely crook of serene mountains. Everyone was so nice I was immediately suspicious. The crowd sat on a hillside and we jumped up and played our little aortas out.
We raced out of town before we got too much “nice” on us and we were no longer able to function in the music business.
As I write this, we are getting ready to hit the hay after a tremendous show at Jonathan’s in Ogonquit, Maine.
Upstairs at a fabulous restaurant, Jonathan’s was the kind of show we’ve dreamed about doing ever since we started this band. Almost every human in the place knew us, had our CD and memorized the words to every song. They even sang gustily along to the choruses of a NEW song, a feat unheard of by anyone who is not named Kreskin. The songs worked, the jokes worked, we felt powerful. Not godlike… but for tiny moments we certainly could have been mistaken for minor deities.
We rejoin the band to do a show in Oshkosh. It’s going to be at an airshow so there could be a lot of people there. Someone said there could potentially be six million people at the show. I don’t trust that figure so I am keeping my expectations in check and will settle for half that. A few years ago we were told that we would play for 100 thousand people at an outdoor festival. We went on as a opening act two hours before Kenny and played to fifty people in lawn chairs. I think they were actually people who happened to live IN the park so they were, sadly, unfamiliar with our material. But they asked for our empties when we finished drinking our water, so I know for a fact they were watching us.
We learned a valuable lesson that day. Well, TWO valuable lessons if you count learning the value of recyclable water bottles on the open market. We learned that in that given situation, even though we are officially the opening act, Georgia and I will wait and come out in the middle of Kenny’s act so that we can play to the big crowd. Let’s review the life lessons I’ve learned since being on the road:
Never open an outdoor show two hours before the headliner
Bus bathrooms are for urinating only
Maine is quite possibly the most polite state in the Union
Leave the bathroom light on in hotels so you don’t stub your toe
Humor is subjective
You’re welcome.