Bandy About
Hello, yes, I am with the band. What does that mean exactly?
It means I can take pictures of the bar bathroom because I am "documenting."
It means the bartender gives me all the free Diet Coke I want.
It means I get to control the soundboard for vocals, and weight down the amp cord with my foot to secure the faulty connection, and carry expensive musical instruments to and from the car while the barhounds look on in confusion because that girl? in the kitten-heel loafers? clearly cannot rock out. (They're only half right.)
It means the bandmembers frequently smile and wink and laugh in my direction, and one of them even wrote some special lyrics just for me.
It means I know all the words to all the songs.
It means when we finally get home at 2:30 a.m., I can't just drag through the front door and fall face-first onto the first soft object I come to but instead I have to help haul Heavy Things up a flight of stairs into the apartment.
It means I get to grab the bassist's honkey-tonk ass between sets and go to sleep holding his hand while we hum-harmonize our favorites from the night.
***
Simon's band has now played two official gigs out in the world and earned its share of enthusiastic applause and genuine yeehaws from strangers not obligated to cheer out of familial duty (although there's a lot of that too). In their most recent show, they were scheduled to play until 12:30 (on a school night!), but because the bar was still full at the end of their final set, they just kept on going, pumping out another five or six tunes, much to everyone's delight. They've only played two shows, and they've already fallen into the scene quite naturally.
I find it hard to write about live music shows and avoid cliché, so the only semi-original perspective I can give is on what it's like to be the roadie girlfriend. It's cool. I get a front-row seat, special treatment from the bartender, and Simon grins at me now and then while he's singing. I watch his fingers mash expertly up and down the fretboard, watch his lips graze the microphone, and marvel at the spectacle that is these kick-ass/sweet/silly sounds coming from nothing more than four former strangers and their bits of fancy hardware. No one believes them when they say they're just starting out, and I want to hug all the people who bother to compliment them, not to mention all those who throw tips into the big shiny pot.
Thanks to the two frat boys who raised their Buds at the end of each song, to the dandies in their summer straw hats, to the miniature Mr. T in the black wifebeater, to the thousand-year-old lady who bobbed her head and tapped her feet and sucked down gin and tonics like they were going out of style. Thanks to the couple by the door who stayed a full set even though they were only on a second or third date and couldn't hear each other talk over the music. Thanks to the ragged band of hippies, who flowed through the swinging doors and took residence on the dance floor; I have never before seen a hippy do a hippy dance (you know what I'm talking about) to a souped-up version of Johnny Cash's "Cry." Thanks to the guy sitting at the bar all alone in his business casual khakis who took a picture of the band with his camera phone.
I feel like a proud mother, but with a good deal of lust thrown in for the musician with the crooked smile.
More faceless-except-Simon-because-I'm-paranoid pictures up in a Flickr set.
Oh, he plays and he's cute? Well done, Leah! :-)
You had me at "all the free Diet Coke I want". :)
Sounds like a great night - looks like one too!
Very cool for you both.
You guys are living a life, to be sure.
Sounds very cool! Congrats to them for doing so well!
Steve was perusing your blog last night (a rare occurance, as tends to think us bloggers a strange breed) and he noticed that Simon has the same amp that he does (the retro looking one...a Fender something or other?). Now he thinks Simon is cool. And that you are cool by association. :)
very cool shots. and getting a good reception to the first gigs is always great. good luck to them.