It’s been almost 10 years now. I feel so blessed to have been given the talents I have. Whatever they are. Or, whatever they are to you. I would like to think I’m a bass player. Not a bassist. When I go to put my bass under a tour bus… then I’ll be a bassist. Until that day comes, I have just one request.
So it starts. The day of, if you will. That morning of feeling where your body goes, “Hey, you’re playing tonight!”. It’s hard to contain yourself at that point. So many thoughts and emotions go through your head. Does my preamp need a 9-volt? Should I get some new strings today? Do I have any money? Who are we even playing with tonight? What should I wear? All meaningless and sometimes annoying thoughts, but unless you’re lucky enough to have a tech, the questions in your mind are endless before load in and sound check. As I get out of bed, my mind starts to wear down and get back to my very short term minded brain. No, I’m not a planner. Just ask my family. As for a day like today, there was a lot that needed to happen. Did they all make it? Nope. Not at all. It just didn’t work out that way. Thanks to Twitter, Facebook, and now Tumblr, I was able to start plugging this evenings show early. Looking like it would be a good crowd, I was starting to get excited as I checked the confirmed list.
Moving forward, I see myself at the point of getting prepared to dawn the ever so silly approach of making myself presentable in a music venue setting. AS stupid it may seem, I’m a poor attempt at looking the part. I shower, trim, and press. But for what? A chance to see or meet someone I’ve never met before? To be presentable and look edgy? I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t my intent. As it turns out, I think thats what most musicians do.
Getting to the venue, I see my band mates setting up their stuff and getting ready to soundcheck. We’re a blessed group. With the kind efforts of the guys, we played 12th and Porter this evening. Killer place. Just incredible. When I first moved up to Spring Hill, TN (for you readers not acquainted with the area, thats 30 minutes south of Nashville) I visited this establishment for their new years event. Had a great time, and was blown away by the lights and sound. In that, being able to say that I’ve played there, is a great feeling. To some of you reading this, it probably doesn’t mean much, but to me, wow. I was pumped. After setting up my rig, everything hit me. It almost made all my efforts for the past 10 years come to a screeching halt. But seeing as how I needed to get it together and soundcheck, I let it roll off my back.
As we sound checked, I felt so great. Feeling the low frequency of my bass now filling a large room made my heart grow 10 sizes. It was just unbelievable that in that exact moment, my fingers pronounced a note, that was sent to pickups, that were guided to an amplifier, that was then rerouted to a mixing console, that was then ran to another amp, where it flew out from paper cones and magnets into a whirlwind of noise and air hitting the ears of other humans and having it processing instantaneously in their mind so that what I was doing with my left brain made sense to them! It’s so unreal! It makes my mind think I could possibly be speaking to other humans in the form of noise. Not language or speech. Our levels were checked, and my energy restored. But for some reason I just knew something was going to let me down. And on almost every occasion like tonight, it has.
I reflect now on the times where I played in church with my mom. What a killer time that was. My early years of bass-hood, were spent listening. In fact, I really started my whole music infatuation on piano. From there, I became just enamored with drums. I would ask constantly if I could sit down and get behind a drum set. With the sticks in hand, I would attempt to play one beat I heard every Monday night. Hulk Hogan’s theme song. I’m serious. Hulk Hogan had this almost power ballad of a entrance track. “When it comes crashin’ down and it hurts inside” would always fill my head as I would mix the dropping of my right foot, and the waving of my hands. After realizing that I really wanted to play, the late Chuck Isble taught me the basics of playing auxiliary percussion. Even though I didn’t understand it at first, he humbled me into really staying committed, and not giving me the distinctive honor of playing in the main praise band. From there I played drums for maybe two years, never having a drum set of my own. Fast forward to freshman year of high school, and after assuming that my brief introduction to guitar warranted my ability to play bass, I then started playing bass. Ricky Smith, a guitar player at a church I was playing for at the time, loaned me this Grateful Dead/Fankenstrat looking bass. It had the GD bears on it, with some black, blue, and pale green splatter paint all over it. I cleaned it up, and I still have it today. In saying all of that, when I joined the praise team my mom played piano for, it really challenged me and inspired me to keep playing. Not to mention my years in high school spent playing for a show choir and various bands kept my interest up. There is no story of struggle here. No real act of heroism. Just a boy trying to find out what he was meant to do. I’m no virtuoso, but I really love doing this. And it is really the only thing I ever want to do for as long as I live. However, a night like tonight makes me not give a shit.
I said all of this to say this… It almost makes me quit when I think of who I want to see when I get done playing, and them not being there. It’s kinda like, when you bring home a report card, and in my case, that never happened because I loathed school, but stay with me… you bring home a killer report card that gets some freedom. But unfortunately for you, nobody is home. Or you finally get the courage to call someone and they’ve changed their number. Or it’s someones birthday, but if you called them, they wouldn’t answer anyway. Or when you want to wish someone well and see how their doing, but you royally embarrassed yourself in front of them and theres no way you could ever sit down and fix what you’d done. I’m not saying I quit. I’m not saying that as of right now, I don’t give a shit. All that I’m saying is that, I really wish I could share nights like tonight, with everyone I’ve ever met. If I knew you would read this, I’d put a list down of everyone I could think of that I would have wanted to be there tonight.. including yours.
I love meeting strangers, and I love getting hugs from my bandmates, producer, and some acquaintances, but I’m envious of others. I would love to see my dad at a show again. I would probably not be able to focus if my grandparents could have been there tonight. I would be so proud to know they were there. If you’re lucky enough to have that support around you constantly, be so very cautious to absorb that in and live it out. I’m lucky enough to still have my mother, father, uncles, aunts, cousins, my sisters, and my wonderful surviving grandparents. Some people I know only have foster families, or just one parent living. So please don’t make me out to be a jerk that doesn’t know pain. I know I’m lucky. I’m lucky to be playing music. But it almost makes me quit knowing that I’m unable to share these moments with all of you.
Tonight, I left early for two reasons. The first being I felt like Gary Coleman was in my stomach blowing balloons, and the second being, it hurt my heart seeing and not seeing. I’ll close by saying something that usually keeps me from “blogging”. I am very thankful and I really hate publicly complaining like this. I tend to view blogging as narcissistic. I really do cherish the opportunity I had tonight, and the talents God has given me. So yeah. Goodnight.
