The Bit Part Blues - Part 3 - The Gig

Here's a picture of toast and me just before we left his apartment (I'm the one on the left, by the way):

C took this. 

And here's another:

C took this after W hit him in the balls.

So, Toast and I arrived at The Pig N' Whistle, where we met up with Zach, who had brought his girlfriend, Caley. Jon came soon after with his girlfriend whom I met only briefly, so her name escapes me. We musicians had to pay a five dollar cover, but I didn't have anything, so I asked toast to spot me. I'm pretty sure I bought him a burrito a week previous, anyway.

It turns out, this blues jam was more of an individual musician thing; they didn't typically get bands coming in to play. They put us on the list anyway and said they'd see what they could do to allow us to play together. Fortunately, we were first to sign up. However, before we could go on, a house band took the stage and played. For an hour and a half. That may not seem too bad, but you have to remember, we were sitting there, waiting to play our first show ever. Jon had never performed as a guitarist, and I'd never performed as a musician. Agni had never done a show. High tension and indefinite waiting do not a comfortable combination make. Toast went out the back door and started smoking with some guy he'd just met, who made the astute observation,

"Yeah, they should definitely let you guys go on as a band. I mean, you're the only ones who brought girls." My step dad, Mark, had come to watch us, as well, which I appreciated. Personally, I couldn't sit still. I paced all over the place. I kept going out the back door, walking around the parking lot, walking back into the bar, doing pull ups without tiring myself out too much, chatting nervously with Caley and Mark. I wanted to hit some drums, and this band on stage was really starting to piss me off. Their drummer was pretty impressive, though. In fact, the whole band was really tight. Just... Not that exciting, I thought. Apparently, they'd been at this for three years, so that all made sense.

Finally, finally, after all the covers and guest musicians and the break and whatever, the announcer said,

"Up first... We have a band...!" It sounded like he was going for a question, but decided to make it a statement at the last second. By this point, I was too relieved to bother being that nervous, though nerves were still a thing. They never stopped being a thing, you know.

I sat down at the drum kit, which belonged to some guy I didn't know, and got ready to play. I put his Vic Firth sticks to the side, pulling out my Regal Tip 5Bs instead. It was a solid kit, though. He had K Custom cymbals, which are really pretty damn nice, and the drums themselves were a classic jazz kit. Pearl, if memory serves. The most striking difference from mine, though, was the fact that this had only one tom drum and one crash cymbal. That meant I'd have to crash on the ride to get any variety out of my cymbals, and my fills wouldn't really have anywhere to go while on the drums. If you don't know what I'm talking about, just nod your head, it's okay.

Soon enough, Zach made an awkward introduction, and we went right into One Way Out by the Allman Brothers Band. This song is fast, but we'd practiced it plenty, so I was able to keep up, except there was one moment when I decided I could fit two crashes some place where I really couldn't. I quickly got back on track, though, and we kept going right through it. That's the thing about performing; you don't have time to mourn your mistakes, you just roll right through them. I was surprised by how little such a big mistake bothered me, honestly. It was exhilarating. We were finally playing live for a room full of people. Made my heart sing, it did.

Soon enough, the song was over, but they let us do another, so we went into Hendrix's Voodoo Chile. In this song, I ride on the crash cymbal, which means that it's loud. Sure enough, a minute in, one of the guys running the show leaned forward and made the "quiet" gesture, which involves pointing downward and wagging your hand. To be fair, I was really wailing on the drums, so I figured that maybe he was afraid I'd break the cymbal. I switched to hitting the ride, which wasn't as impressive-sounding, but I kept up the volume on the rest of my drums. A half minute later, he stepped out in front of us and made the same gesture to me, frantically this time. He seemed angry. I got the message and played more quietly, trying not to let it throw me off.

Towards the end of the song, Zach put the guitar behind his head, got on his knees, and pulled off a flawless solo. The guy is really impressive like that, he practices stage antics all the time. Soon, though, it was over. Zach said... something... I grabbed my sticks, my bandmates unplugged, and we left the stage. On my way out, I approached the sound guy.

"Hey, sorry about that, man," I said. "I don't know how to play quietly."

"Yeah, I can tell," he snipped. He turned away from me and started fiddling with some knobs on the sound board, making it clear that the conversation was over. I made a sound halfway between a cough and a chuckle and walked over to Mark. He'd been shouting like a soccer hooligan the whole time we were on stage, and had also captured it on video on his ipod. Unfortunately, the high volume in the room didn't work too well with its built-in microphone, we were soon to learn.

"You guys rocked," he said. "I mean, those other guys were good and tight and whatever, but you? You rocked." That's one of the things I really like about Mark. He's never afraid to show his enthusiasm. We left soon after and gave Toast a ride back to his apartment.

And that's the story of how, as Jon puts it, we "popped my cherry." Frankly, it was pretty amazing.