Imagine

Saturday night's gig at The Food Lover's Market was special in quite a few ways. Firstly, I had to drop my teenaged son in Claremont an hour before I needed to be at my gig, so I had a very early start. Usually I get there between 6 and 6:30pm, but this time I got there just after 5. What was already special about the day was that it had rained all day! And not soft, gentle rain (jazz standard, Gentle Rain -beautiful piece!), but quite a heavy downpour. Superb for the garden, but not for my instruments as I was loading my car, nor for my hair! So I got to my gig looking like a wet dog, and sought (unsuccessfully) to find a "cool" attitude that would make the look seem intentional. On the best of days, my hair does its own thing, so I wondered, after the rain had put paid to the efforts of the shampoo and conditioner, what exactly my hair would decide to do that night, when it dried! See above photos! Haha! There are some things in life I can control, and then there's my hair!

So I carted my equipment upstairs, with the help of the doorman, and saw, to my delight, the high chairs we'd asked the owner for, a few weeks ago. The entire bandstand looked better, because we now also have our speakers on stands. I've always had a funny relationship with high chairs, at gigs! I hate chairs that are slippery and ones that don't accommodate my....em.... let's say, "girth", but I particularly don't get along with chairs that swivel! And the new chairs at FLM do exactly that, so now Wayne and I are a swinging duo. You dare not sneeze, because when you open your eyes, you might just have your back towards the audience!

After I'd set up, I ordered a cup of coffee, and sat down to do some planning for my 6 December show. That was a valuable timeslot, for me. It also gave me time to dry, to unwind and to prepare mentally for the gig. As a mom, it's hard to find a whole lot of time to sit and write. Of course, being a "part-time" mom, I get every second week to myself, so I try to regulate my space craving to coincide with that schedule, but, as you can imagine, it doesn't quite work that way. There's nothing organic about this way of living. After 9 years of it, I should know.

But, back to the gig.
I did three of my own compositions, and that always makes the gig more special for me. More than that, Wayne's playing adds a whole new dimension to my compositions. It's such a personal thing, such a risk, in a way, performing songs you've written: you can't help but be very invested in the moment. At restaurants, people talk all the time while you're singing, and you sort of end up singing for yourself and your friends who're actually listening. Which is why some musicians take stupid chances at gigs, settling for the path of least resistance, playing the same old material for years, not rehearsing, not freshening up their acts, allowing stupid mistakes to remain uncorrected, week after week. I don't subscribe to such mediocrity - I'm there to do a job, a job I love, so I'm going to work hard before, during and after the gig, always putting my best out there. That's one of the reasons I enjoy working with Wayne - he's a total perfectionist, and a consummate professional. I'm learning so much from him.

My partner was there, and that's always super-cool for me. He's such a supportive guy. I often wonder if he doesn't get sick and tired of coming to the gigs, but when I look up at a certain time of the night, there he is, and the little spark inside of me grows into a flame. What can I say...... he's my Achilles heel.

There was a big group of people who insisted on sitting up close to the bandstand, who spoke and laughed loudly all night, and took no notice of the music. After our very last song, our own version of John Lennon's "Imagine", they applauded like we were superstars. Imagine!