Three True Events
BASS MAKES THE WORLD GO ROUND
No matter to whom you perform, it’s the response of the audience that makes a show fun. A really good audience can be children, because seeing them stomp and run with joy makes you smile and feel good about your artistic contribution to the next generation. Equally important is the encouragement of making that next generation, which sometimes requires good vibes, alcohol and a bass solo. Now most people at the mention of a bass solo think of overindulgent musicians and/or moose mating calls. We at BLUE ON GREEN challenge such thinking. One night at ONEIL’S IRISH PUB in San Mateo, BLUE ON GREEN performed to a particularly wily crowd dancing to our rendition of a rocking blues number called I CANT HOLD OUT. I don’t know what got into me. Maybe it was a lapse in my judgment, but I called out for a bass solo after the second verse. The thump-thump of the acoustic bass suddenly dominated the sound, as I announced to the dancing mass that it was time to “get it on with that big bottom”. Suddenly a woman appeared with her “backside” to the band. As I explained the finer nature of the tones of the low down bass, this woman proceeded to repeatedly spank her behind, egging on the bassist. There was no stopping her, or the bass solo. As she continued, the crowd danced into a frenzy, waving their hands, while the bass summed up the force behind the cycle of life– its that low down “bottom-end” that make the world go round.
DRUMMERS HAVE DEEP POCKETS
The intriguing element of being in a band is the people that you meet by chance. One summer, BLUE ON GREEN had the fortune of performing outdoors in the Civic Center of San Francisco. If you’re not familiar with San Francisco, the Civic Center houses the City, State and Federal buildings, most notably, its’ beautiful City Hall, with its gold gilded dome (modeled after those in France). The Civic Center also is the hangout of the homeless and individuals on drugs. It is a comfortable mix for which bureaucrats, druggies and the homeless seem to blend together into a mélange of city life. Performing music to such a crowd could seem blasé. The bureaucrats sit comfortably in their chairs eating lunch while the others twirl and dance- some with their faces contorted with their eyes having a far off, distant look. No matter. The sun is out, people are dancing and we are “jamming”. Suddenly, a disheveled dancer rushes the stage, nearly tripping over a guitar cord, heading for somewhere unknown to us. Yet, he knows his goal, he lunges toward the drummer yelling to him as the music crescendos- “can you spare some change?” Does this person know something about musicians? Are drummers paid more than the rest of us? Are drummers perceived as more sympathetic to homelessness? (Perhaps being close to it themselves?) Do drummers have deep pockets?
WHIP IT GOOD
I can’t say I miss traveling and performing in large venues. All that driving in a van for hours and hours, just to arrive at a venue at 5PM for a performance that doesn’t start till 10PM. Then it’s a late night of packing up and then a sleeping arrangement on a less than comfortable couch or too-soft hotel bed. Its much easier to find entertainment closer to home. In my town of Pacifica is a little bar called WINTERS TAVERN. Its a homey kind of bar with a shuffleboard and karaoke nights. Its also a bar favored by bikers. One Friday night BLUE ON GREEN performed to what appeared to be a biker homecoming. Our rendition of the DOORS song, ROADHOUSE BLUES was getting everyone revved up. I sang, “Keep your eyes on the road and your hand upon the wheel”. “Yaaaaah!” went the crowd, with their beers bottles thrust into the air. Just as the song ended, there appeared to be the beginning of a hippie circle dance, or (most likely) a fight. The crowd balled up and we saw something flailing in the air and come down again. What was it? Was it a Third Reich swizzle stick? Worse- it was a riding crop, and it was coming down on the “back-side” of a biker girlfriend (I presume), who was asking for “more” and “harder”. BIZAAR!!! Seconds later, a man came running into the bar yelling “JIMBOS DOWN!” The crowd rushed out the door and down the street. Of course we followed. When we arrived, Jimbo was limping and was being helped up. Gas was spilling on the pavement from the downed bike and a woman was defending herself from a biker-inquisitor, yelling, “I just came to help cuz I saw him hurt. It was that woman over there that hit him”. Yep, sure enough the other woman who had maliciously aimed her car, and purposely hit Jimbo was none other than Jimbo’s wife. Then the sound of a siren approaching… quickly, the bike was pushed out of sight, and the bikers disappeared back into the bar none to soon for the cops had arrived only to find some hapless onlookers and no evidence.
CONTACT: blueongreenmusic@yahoo.com