Blind & Wingless
11 August 2006
One of the nice benefits of my salaried position at Wicks Organ Company is the ability to slip out a few minutes early when necessity requires such action. A Friday night gig with BenWahBob at Fairmount Park seemed like a fine opportunity to exercise that option. As I have done my fair share of extra duty from time to time, I had no guilt about this whatsoever.
I rushed home, changed into some comfortable jeans and a goofy T-shirt, loaded my equipment into the van, and was on my way. I arrived at the track around 05:30, loaded in, and headed for the buffet. I was quite disappointed to find no hot wings, my usual Fairmount fare. I instead settled for some other banal choices to fill the void. Carlos and I sat at a table near the windows, eating and catching up on all the things we used to talk about on a regular basis when we worked together.
Jason Hilliard was sitting in on drums with us this night, as Bobby was in Ohio for the weekend visiting relatives. Carlos had prepared a plate for him as well, but he didn’t get a chance to eat until after the first set as he and a friend were too busy finishing the set-up of his drum kit. Jason, for those who don’t know by now, is blind. Not “blind as a bat,” though, as a bat actually has eyes and can see. Jason had his eyes removed a couple years ago and has glass implants that he likes to take out to mess with people. He’s a great guy, and an even better drummer…definitely one of the most talented with whom I’ve ever played. Of course, this can occasionally present its own problems, like trying to communicate during a song. With most drummers, you can simply use visual cues, or talk “big” so they can read your lips. Not so with Jason. As I was given the task of feeding songs to him from the setlist, I was also trying my best to let him know when to end certain songs that can potentially drag on forever. It was a challenge, to say the least.
Overall, though, the night went off pretty well. Dale screwed up some pretty simple lyrics, and we all made fun of him. When Carlos or I did the same with our parts, we were treated to an equal amount of ribbing from the others. We all seemed to have a pretty good time.
The crowd this night was a bit less than we are accustomed to seeing on a Friday night. This was attributed to the incredibly nice weather. Apparently, there was a pretty good crowd outside not willing to surrender the opportunity to be outside. They might have known that there were no hot wings. Greg told me that they had counted somewhere in the neighborhood of about 1000 people mid-way through the evening. Not bad, but, again, about 2/3 of what we’re used to seeing. They were pretty sedate for most of the night, until a few attractive ladies stepped up and started dancing to their favorite songs. After that, the party was in full swing. We even had one dark-tressed dancer in “I Dream of Genie” type attire shaking her attributes around to the amusement of all.
Since I waited over a week and a half to write this, the fog of time and distance has shrouded much of what I’m sure were very amusing little episodes in the evening’s festivities. For that delay, I apologize. This is just one more reason you should attend these things in person, rather than relying on the retelling of their highlights by a musician, of all people…and a bass player at that!
Load out went quickly at the end of the night. Even Jason was done quickly, as his friend had stayed the whole night and helped him tear down his kit. This is usually a problem for him. He can almost always find someone to take him to a gig, but they never seem to stick around to make sure he has a ride home (Duh!?!). We have in the past taken turns getting him home, but that was not necessary this time.
On the short trip home, I opted for a rare situation: no music. I just turned off the CD player and drove back to my little burg in relative silence. It was kind of odd, as there is almost always some kind of music playing in my life. But, not on this night. The tires spinning against the pavement and the air bending around the minivan were my only music.
One of the nice benefits of my salaried position at Wicks Organ Company is the ability to slip out a few minutes early when necessity requires such action. A Friday night gig with BenWahBob at Fairmount Park seemed like a fine opportunity to exercise that option. As I have done my fair share of extra duty from time to time, I had no guilt about this whatsoever.
I rushed home, changed into some comfortable jeans and a goofy T-shirt, loaded my equipment into the van, and was on my way. I arrived at the track around 05:30, loaded in, and headed for the buffet. I was quite disappointed to find no hot wings, my usual Fairmount fare. I instead settled for some other banal choices to fill the void. Carlos and I sat at a table near the windows, eating and catching up on all the things we used to talk about on a regular basis when we worked together.
Jason Hilliard was sitting in on drums with us this night, as Bobby was in Ohio for the weekend visiting relatives. Carlos had prepared a plate for him as well, but he didn’t get a chance to eat until after the first set as he and a friend were too busy finishing the set-up of his drum kit. Jason, for those who don’t know by now, is blind. Not “blind as a bat,” though, as a bat actually has eyes and can see. Jason had his eyes removed a couple years ago and has glass implants that he likes to take out to mess with people. He’s a great guy, and an even better drummer…definitely one of the most talented with whom I’ve ever played. Of course, this can occasionally present its own problems, like trying to communicate during a song. With most drummers, you can simply use visual cues, or talk “big” so they can read your lips. Not so with Jason. As I was given the task of feeding songs to him from the setlist, I was also trying my best to let him know when to end certain songs that can potentially drag on forever. It was a challenge, to say the least.
Overall, though, the night went off pretty well. Dale screwed up some pretty simple lyrics, and we all made fun of him. When Carlos or I did the same with our parts, we were treated to an equal amount of ribbing from the others. We all seemed to have a pretty good time.
The crowd this night was a bit less than we are accustomed to seeing on a Friday night. This was attributed to the incredibly nice weather. Apparently, there was a pretty good crowd outside not willing to surrender the opportunity to be outside. They might have known that there were no hot wings. Greg told me that they had counted somewhere in the neighborhood of about 1000 people mid-way through the evening. Not bad, but, again, about 2/3 of what we’re used to seeing. They were pretty sedate for most of the night, until a few attractive ladies stepped up and started dancing to their favorite songs. After that, the party was in full swing. We even had one dark-tressed dancer in “I Dream of Genie” type attire shaking her attributes around to the amusement of all.
Since I waited over a week and a half to write this, the fog of time and distance has shrouded much of what I’m sure were very amusing little episodes in the evening’s festivities. For that delay, I apologize. This is just one more reason you should attend these things in person, rather than relying on the retelling of their highlights by a musician, of all people…and a bass player at that!
Load out went quickly at the end of the night. Even Jason was done quickly, as his friend had stayed the whole night and helped him tear down his kit. This is usually a problem for him. He can almost always find someone to take him to a gig, but they never seem to stick around to make sure he has a ride home (Duh!?!). We have in the past taken turns getting him home, but that was not necessary this time.
On the short trip home, I opted for a rare situation: no music. I just turned off the CD player and drove back to my little burg in relative silence. It was kind of odd, as there is almost always some kind of music playing in my life. But, not on this night. The tires spinning against the pavement and the air bending around the minivan were my only music.
posted by Paul J. Smith | 23:26
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