Hackneyed

Last entry I waxed (and milked) drippily about restoring my love of music. Well, it should be pointed out that my dream gig was quickly followed by a gig that was. . . well, not a dream. That was my Hackney show.

It wasn’t actually a bad gig at all. It was a fine gig. And hell, unlike my other gigs, it did pay me £30 and—unprecedented for London clubs—gave me free beer. But I basically tore through 26 songs while the well-meaning punters did their best to hear each other’s conversation over my crooning. It felt a little like substitute teaching: part of me was devastated I couldn’t get the class’s attention, the rest of me just didn’t give a shit because I was just doing it for the money. I mean, I’m happy to be background music, but the fact is, pop singer/songwriters don’t make good background music.

I need to learn a good bossa nova. Now that’s good background music.

Hopefully I’ll find redemption tonight. I’m playing a show here in London at my favorite—make that favourite—local club, 12 Bar. As I’ve described before, it’s a very odd little performance space, but odd in the way that sort of bonds audience and performer. Best thing about tonight is that I’ll be playing the whole set as a duo. Enough with the solo shows! Tonight my buddy, Gary Wicks, will be joining me on upright bass. He’s a hoss with serious jazz/classical chops, and perhaps even more impressively he’s usually paid handsomely for a 45 minute set. . . Needless to say, 12 Bar’s remunerative policies aren’t up to that level, so tonight Gary’s just being a nice guy.