ROCKTOBERFEST POST-MORTEM (&C.)...

I think we done good at the Rocktoberfest. The audience was small but appreciative; they listened, laughed in all the right places, danced to Woody Guthrie’s “Dance a Little Longer,” and their feet were tapping to Southern Pigfish’s “For Their Own Ends.” (It still amazes me how many people like that song.) Best rendition yet of Betty Holt’s “Our Own Little Stimulus Plan”—of all the songs we did, really. (We got paid, too. I like getting paid.)

Best song? By far, “Tillamook Railroad Blues.” The setlist calls it a “deliberate blues,” but it’s got a lot of musical choreography in it—and at this point, we’ve got every note (and pause) perfect. And Mike’s harmonies are beautiful (they were beautiful on Stan Good’s “Un-Easy Street,” too).

Nice comments from those who heard us. I think (maybe I just hope) we’re carving ourselves out an important niche here: we’re the equal, I think, of any talent in the area, and we have a following—and we play exclusively original material. And audiences seem to like the songs. Now, if they’d start asking other bands to play some of our material, we might really be onto something.

We’re going to be sans both Mike and Doc for the Sept. 25 concert at the Bay City Arts Center. I asked Charlie Wooldridge (BCAC’s vice-president) to substitute on lead guitar (we played together in the “board/staff band” open mike at the Arts Center in July), and he’s willing; I left him a setlist and CDs, and maybe we’ll have a chance to play a little Friday night if I can get back from Lafayette early enough (if I work really hard at it, I can make the trip in just under 2 hours). John will be coming back from a conference, and may not get there till just before showtime. Sound engineer Jim Nelson and I will set up everything early Saturday (and try to rig it so we can record the performance, too).

At this point, September 25 is our last performance of Concert Season; I haven’t pressed for a gig from the Garibaldi Museum (and they haven’t pressed for one from me, either)—it would be nice to do, but it has been really hard juggling gigs with a full-time job out of town, and work on the house. There’s the wedding October 31: I’ve got commitments from Chris, and John, and Doc, but Mike won’t be available. (Doc can carry the lead work on his own—we’ve practiced that way, and it works. Lot of new material to learn, though.)

It was suggested we do “The Frog Next Door” as part of the Wedding Setlist—it is a love song, and it has live animals in it (and it’s a blues, too). It’d be a good substitute for “One: I Love You,” which is a cute love song, but about a stalker nonetheless, and we’re not supposed to “do” stalkers in the Wedding Set. Another possibility is a rockabilly number I musicated for a kid (he’s 37) in Norway, O.N. Vindstad, hight “Simple Questions.” An interesting take on the “boy meets girl” song—in Vindstad’s, the boy never does meet the girl. And it’s got some great lines. (Most of the songs I’ve musicated for other folks do, I think. I am attracted to good writing.)

And I have arranged (I think) to get a hyperactive young kitten filmed to star in the music video of “The Dog’s Song.” Need some still shots for the Rap; I think I have some old photos of Baby Amy, our gigantic Doberman, back when she was young (and only the size of a small horse), and I’d like to get a mug shot or two of the kitten, too. Amy was kind of my role model for the old dog in the song; she had the Old Dog Routine down (and had to contend with little kittens in the house, too).

No meetings this week, and no music till this weekend; the truck will get its alternator fixed, and get a long-overdue tune-up and oil change—things one can afford when one has a job—and I’ve got RAM chips to add to StuartLittle so I won’t keep getting “low on memory” error messages, and the graphic-design software to install, too. Goal is to be able to do the music video of “The Dog’s Song" on StuartLittle. Three jobs to apply for, too; the Lafayette gig may be a big time-consumer, but it’s not going to last forever.

Joe