A few minutes ago, Kenton and I got an e-mail from Donna, the owner of the Hilltop Tavern:
Kenton: I'm very sorry but because of a disagreement with the city and code enforcement
I'm being forced to cancel all bands unless it is a private party or I hold my occupancy to 49 and that won't work for me on weekends. So keep in touch and when I get it all straightened out we'll try again. Donna
No gig. This Saturday, I'm back to being a civilian. I feel like a cop who has lost his gun and badge. It'll be a much easier weekend. But I had gotten addicted to the thrill of it all. As nervous as I was about doing a show without Nick, laid low by open heart surgery, I was still looking forward getting out there. Especially after a week of furious practicing. Even worse: I had already picked out my outfit! Is there no justice in this world?! Can anyone understand my pain?!
This is life on the fringes of show business.
If you believe that God works our daily lives, you have to wonder: is He trying to tell us something? Is it a city code problem, or Divine Intervention?
I picture God in his control room in front of a bank of glowing screens, drumming his fingers on the console and watching Kenton, Player X and myself rehearsing last Monday. He mumbles darkly.
"You'd think they'd get the message after I arranged the harmonica player's brush with mortality," He says, frowning. "Are these tone-deaf clods also blind? Am I going to have to pull out the burning bush routine? If I have to listen to that Chance guy mangle 'Close to You' one more time, I going to hit the flood button and conveniently misplace the ark blueprints."
He reaches for the telephone.
"Well, I've got contacts in the city code enforcment department," God says, punching in the numbers. "And I'm not afraid to use them."
I find this scenario strangely comforting. It's more acceptable to me than simple bad luck or poor timing. I don't want to be jinxed.
I like playing in bars. Bars are KDOG's natural habitat. We don't go over well at private parties, as we discovered. I like the people, the ambiance and I only wish they could still be filled with cigarette smoke, but the candy ass California legislature ruined that for everybody. We can play originals and nobody cares. The money's terrible, but the Heinekens and the Crown Royal are free. I'm cynical about almost everything else, but I still believe in this romantic myth.
I feel like the Martin Sheen character at the beginning of Apocalypse Now - you know, where Captain Willard waits in his hotel room for a mission. He's drunk, greasy and unshaven in his green Army underwear.
"Every moment Charlie squats in the bush, he get's stonger," Willard's voice over intones. "Every moment I spend in this room, I get weaker."
That will be me on Saturday night: waiting for a mission.
Actually, that gives me a great idea for the first KDOG music video: Rockpacalypse Now!. We are hanging out at the hotel, drunk, depressed and waiting for a gig. The Army intelligence people send us up the river and we play at Colonel Kurtz's 50th birthday bash in the jungle with Playboy Bunnies, soldiers on LSD firing flare guns and, for the big finish, the natives slaughter a calf.
In case you were wondering, being a genius isn't a burden.
I've got to play live. That's the only thing that keeps me growing and improving. I'll take any audience reaction at all, from wild applause to naked hostility.
Player X is trying to teach Kenton, Nick and I to get professional enough to play at bars that have actual caberet licenses, just so we can avoid this kind of problem. It's taking time, but I think he sees enough potential to stick with us. Right now, we're too loose and off the cuff, playing long sets, changing song arrangements on the fly and laughing when we screw up songs. If I feel like soloing at exactly the "wrong" time, that's exactly what I do.
This sort of enthusiastic amateurism is frowned upon at the "better places," where they have designer logo deodorant cakes in the pee trough.
I can't image the downer! I know that I anticipate gigs for a week. Hope Nick's doing well.
Posted by: Uncle David | March 11, 2007 at 12:19 PM