I learned a trick many years ago: Do things differently and intensely and it makes an impact. Generally, I am a light, social kind of dude. I go out of my way to say hi to everyone and shake hands or even hug all the cats in the band before we start a performance. At the very least, I’ll connect with everyone even on some superficial level and get a sense of comfort with everyone. It’s fun to experiment with other ways of being…
I was living in Ithaca and playing with a trio: drums, sax and trumpet. We had a a regular thing at a pretty cool club. My favorite part of it was playing with a great drummer named Brian Wilson. (Since he’s been getting more and more acclaim and showing up on all kinds of international posters he has changed his name to Wille B.) Anyway, I just showed up one night and kept my head down and didn’t say a word to anyone. Not even a glance. I kept all my energy to myself determined to communicate only through musical interaction on stage. The result was a burning intensity from all the players. We came out of the gate with an extreme focus and a real desire to listen to each other and interact.
My trip to Belleville last night was a big drag. The L train took me to a dead-end transfer – no G train. The resultant shuttle bus took me a really long time and then I had to catch the F. This happens to everyone in New York at some point. Whatever. I had a coffee in my hands and my horn and my backpack. And then the bus is so hot that I have to take my jacket off and its turning into a schlepp of epic proportions. Headphones were my salvation and I was rocking out to some heavy King Crimson and eventually a double shot of James Brown. “Papa Don’t Take No Mess.” I sure don’t.
I got to the club late and kept my headphones on. Didn’t look at nobody. Went right to the stage. Took the horn out. Put my jacket away. Stared at the floor until Hyde and Hands joined me on the stage. They started into the riff from Smokestack Lightening and I started into some lyrics I made up on the spot around “Bad Bad Whiskey” It was some good spontaneous music. Tin Pan rarely does anything free improv anyway, so this was an unrestricted treat. The fact that I hadn’t even said hi to anyone yet made the outburst of my voice and lyrics a much bigger statement. Gravitas, ladies and gentlemen, is only purchased through life’s tougher experiences and I’m not talking about a lame bus trip.
Gravitas = magnetism. Somehow, even though it was a Sunday when many were watching the Grammy’s the little room filled on up with folks that had heard about us and brought their friends. It was our first real “show” at Belleville. The house was full enough to make for the environment we had dreamed about for that space.
I think that Thursdays in February will be easier to make this environment happen again and again.
To depart with an encouraging thought. A friendly gentleman introduced himself to us and said that he used to work for A&M records back in the day. He said that we reminded him of Nora Jones, not in the style or sound, but in the sense that she had been working in tiny, under-rated rooms for some time. When she released her record she was expecting to sell about 2000 and she wound up selling 20,000,000. This man affirmed that we were on that level of quality and impact.