Side Project

Look at me. Two years ago, I'd never played in a rock band (hell, I could hardly play three chords). Now, I have a "side project".

Well, sort of. I'm just about to perform live with two of my brothers, and two other guys who didn't know enough to say "no".

We've been practicing together for 8 weeks as part of the Bandworks program, which teaches folks to play as a group. Our poor instructor, Deirdre Lynds, admitted the first time we met that while she had worked with siblings in a band before, she'd never dealt with three of them at once. You can only imagine.

Still, I think we've had fun. It's been great for me to move into a slightly different role than my "hide over there and try not to screw up" bit in the Eyewitness Blues Band (let me be clear: that's how I see my role!). I'm actually going to play a couple of solos (don't worry, Jimi Hendrix, Angus Young, and Joe Satriani have nothing to fear), and willingly open my mouth to sing backing vocals. What would you think if I sang out of tune/would you stand up and walk out on me? I hope not.

It's kind of like the old line about golf: even a bad day on the course is better than a good day at the office. Same thing with music. We may have a half-dozen people in the house when we take the stage for our gig, but it'll still be rock and roll. And we'll still be nervous.

Rock on!

This Is Why We Do It

Mitch Albom wrote in this weekend's Parade magazine about a reunion of his high school band (they did it for his 50th birthday, and you can read about it here.)

Well, I never played in a band as a kid. I'm getting to do it now, as a middle-aged empty-nester with a mortgage and progressive lenses. And while I'm sure Mitch enjoyed revisiting his old memories, I'm getting to enjoy those memories as we make them.

Latest case in point: our gig over the weekend at Alameda's Webster Street Jam. Could have been a disaster. No electricity at the stage, so we started 45 minutes late (after only 15 minutes of setup time). No real soundcheck. In my haste to set up, I screwed up and couldn't get sound out of my amp until the rest of the band was playing. Oh, and we were about to premiere a song about Sarah Palin we'd just written (and rehearsed squatting on the floor of an auto repair shop).

But you know what? It all came together. Kids danced. The sun shone. Barbecue smoke wreathed the stage. Grownups laughed at the funny lines and sang along with the familiar ones.

And a first for us: somebody shot video and posted it on YouTube. Eat your heart out, Mitch Albom.

Inside the Q

It's every performer's nightmare: you're up there on stage, and the audience is walking out.

We just played a gig where there was zero chance of that happening. Truly a captive audience.

We played at San Quentin Prison.

The folks who asked us to come perform for a graduation ceremony put on by the prison group "No More Tears" swore we'd come away amazed, and I think I can speak for the entire Eyewitness Blues Band on this one: we got more out of this than did the audience.

"No More Tears" is all about getting inmates to think about their past so they can build a better future. The audience for our set included cons, those who work with them, and family members of those who've been lost to violence. This, my friend, is what they talk about when they say "real life".

Band members Mike Sugerman and Patrick Sedillo brought more than their guitars. They also carried in cameras and audio recording gear. Here's the piece they did for CBS-5, and here's Mike's KCBS radio report.

But with all due respect to Mike and Patrick's talents, there's really no way to convey the impact of going inside. Little things, like the sudden shouting when guards escorted a pair of death-row inmates past. The rule is: every other nearby inmate must turn away and put both hands on the wall. Failure to do so is interpreted as an act of aggression and you can guess what happens next.

I had a number of memorable conversations with inmates about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And I had a moment that just blew me away. I was sitting on the floor, watching the graduation ceremony, when it struck me: many of these men are smiling. Not cunning, nasty, I'm-gonna-mess-you-up smiles. Genuine, warm, loving smiles.

How much effort did it take to get from where they started to this?

The Eyewitness Blues Band has been blessed with some remarkable opportunities, but it'll be hard to top the day we went to prison.

A Most Unusual Gig

We're going to play a gig where the audience won't be allowed to dance. Where we are being told what to wear, and will have to undergo a full sevarch both arriving and departing.

We're playing at San Quentin.

I've been inside a couple of times as a reporter, but this will be a new experience. The band has been invited to help entertain inmates and guests associated with a program called "No More Tears". The program aims to bring peace to the lives of men who have often known very little of it.

We met the other day with the woman arranging our visit and learned a few of the rules:

• You can't wear blue. Or orange, yellow, red or much of anything else but black or white
• Handshakes are OK. Hugs are not.
• No gifts of any kind, not even guitar picks
• Inmates are not allowed to dance
• No drinks will be served

We've had to submit a very detailed list of the equipment we'll be bringing, and we're told the odds are good that something will go wrong at the gate. I'm sure it will be stressful at times, but I'm thrilled to have the opportunity.

Thanks, Alameda

The Beatles had Hamburg.

Could the Eyewitness Blues Band have Alameda?

We had a great time the other night at the Alameda Towne Centre shopping center. All sorts of set-up headaches (no sense re-living the misery here, but here's all you need to know: we started our sound check 11 minutes before showtime), but when the bell rang, we were there.

The audience was supportive and engaged. Kids dancing, parents bobbing their heads to the beat, and even plenty of senior citizens smiling along with us.

It's a great little venue: a temporary stage smack in the middle of an outdoor shopping center. A hundred or so folding chairs. Plenty of space for kids to dash around. And a new restaurant called Zeytini, with jam-packed outdoor tables full of people listening to the show.

Playing live is an interesting thing: you know right away if you're "on", but you don't really know how it sounds to the audience. You look for clues: are they laughing at the funny lines? Are they dancing or at least tapping their feet? Are they scrunching up their faces and walking away?

All we saw was positive feedback, and plenty of people came up afterward to say they thought we'd sounded great.

Even better: the lady from the shopping center said she loved it, and they want us back.

Hamburg, here we come.

Keyboards

We're a couple of days away from our next gig. It'll be hard to top our last gig for pure coolness--big crowd, great stage, great vibe.

But this time, we're playing with a different lineup. Sug won't be there (he's in New York on a family vacation), and Alameda piano whiz Kelly Park will be sitting in on keyboards.

It's an interesting step for the band. We go from being a tight-knit band of co-workers who share the same inside jokes and the same collective history to...well, I'm not sure, but I do know it's different.

Kelly, of course, will shine. He's an amazing musician and a wonderful personality, and there's something about a keyboard that can really fill out the sound of a band.

Ought to be fun. See you there!

We Did It!

I'll never run the 100 meters in less than 10 seconds, or break 50 seconds in the 100 freestyle.

But I do own a world record today!

Well, technically, I will share it with 2,051 others once the Guinness people certify it. We gathered in Concord's Todos Santos Plaza and played "This Land Is Your Land" over and over, in what will now be listed as the largest guitar ensemble ever.

That's me in the photo (courtesy of ace concert photographer Robert Hakin), pulling my best Pete Townshend as we struck the final chord, with 60's icon Country Joe McDonald (in the green shirt) looking on.

It was a truly amazing experience to be up on the stage, looking out over a sea of people with guitars. Old, young, virtuoso, beginner, tie-dye, coat-and-tie. The vibe after we set the record was even better: folks wandering around with their guitars, propping them up next to the table while having dinner, gently strumming familiar tunes while complete strangers tapped time or broke into song.

I've said it before about music: it's like sex. Decent by yourself, but really great when shared with others.

World Record Attempt

Another Eyewitness Blues Band moment that money can't buy: we're helping headline an attempt to break a world record.

OK, it's one of those funky Guinness records: "Largest Guitar Ensemble". Organizers hope to get 2008 (or more) guitar players to show up in Concord in a couple of days to all play "This Land Is Your Land" at the same time. Country Joe McDonald will lead the rendition, and your favorite blues/rock band will open the show, then help Country Joe lead the crowd.

Can't wait. Three chords, man. I'll be playing Kim Wonderley's Takamine acoustic-electric. Sweet guitar, although it does not carry the slogan that graced Woody Guthrie's guitar: "This machine kills fascists".

How Do We Do It?

Patrick got his shift changed a few days ago. In the current economy, it's good that everyone's working, but I think we now have the following times available when everyone in the band is free to rehearse and/or perform:

12pm - 3pm on Saturdays

That's pretty much it. Any other time slot requires at least one person to take a day off work.

Crazy.

The New PA Thing

Full disclosure: since the Eyewitness Blues Band sort of happened by accident, we never really had a proper set of gear. We've begged, borrowed and stolen PA gear for our gigs from Day One.

Thank goodness my brother Craig has quite a stable of audio gear (and has been willing to let us use it). But patience has its limits.

Back in January, Doug and I popped for a pair of JBL monitor speakers and stands, just before we played back-to-back gigs. The speakers performed spectacularly. The same can not be said for the PA amps we hauled with us to the second gig.

It was a near-disaster, saved at the last second when we pressed a drastically-underpowered backup amp (also borrowed) into service and worked without the stage monitors that backup amp was supposed to power. Not a very pleasant way to perform, worried that the jury-rigged setup would crater at any moment.

So now, we've taken the next step. We just bought a Yamaha powered mixer which should take care of us in small-to-medium sized gigs (anything bigger is guaranteed to have a house sound system we can use). It's a slightly-modernized version of the unit Craig had been loaning us, so we already sort of know our way around it.

Got a great deal, too, through an eBay seller in San Jose. But you have to wonder about karma: the reason the guy was selling the amp was because he'd bought if for his band, which broke up before they ever used it.