Tell Me Something Good

I'm feeling much better. Sitting still isn't my favorite thing to do (I think I aggravated things trying to ignore it), but otherwise it's somewhat manageable. I am looking forward to the lack of pain kicking in in a couple of weeks though.

I went to an open mic again this past weekend. I was very careful about staying hydrated because of the muscle relaxers and pain meds, which can strip me of my voice, so I was able to nip any cragginess in the bud. After having been cooped up and in bed for a few days, I really felt the need to get out. Not too much harm since I was able to keep milling about rather than sit too long. So, an early evening out was much appreciated. Hell, I've done a show with pneumonia, so singing a couple tunes while in pain isn't too far a stretch (although I was on the fence until I actually walked out the door and was on my way).

The trio was different this weekend, with exception of the bass player. They were lots of fun.

When I was there with my friend RS last weekend, he was teasing me a bit about bringing my whole book, rather than just a couple of tunes in my bag. As they went through hours of people before me, as anticipated, I had to scratch a tune here and there from my loosely-planned song list. He quickly understood as I tucked each one back in the book as it happened. This past weekend was no exception. The two I had high on the list that I've hardly heard done by others were crossed off pretty quickly--- one of them by the first person who got up.

Thankfully, I'm well aware that this can happen. I remember the days (not all that long ago) when I only had a small list of tunes in my jazz rep and being pretty well screwed if someone did them before I was up. I ended up doing a couple of tunes that were pretty dusty for me, but songs I love. With one of them, I was actually able to stump the band. Nobody in the trio had ever even heard of the ballad I did (hooray for having a love of the obscure). They seemed very grateful for something they hadn't played ad nauseum. It was all very well received, too. As much as I have my own little weirdness about singing for an audience, it is rewarding when I see in the faces that it's a job well done.

Really, when I sing, I'm playing for myself and enjoying the musical collaboration, I just let others listen in. It was the same for when I was doing improv (acting). It's the best way for me to keep the inner censor at bay and let the improvisation flow (this is jazz, after all-- going with the flow is its core principle). I don't close myself off-- I just find it feels more genuine to me if I'm not playing *to* the audience instead of *with* them. Otherwise, it's very easy to slip into cheesy lounge-type stuff.

I know I say this after every time I've taken some time off, but I missed this. As much as I don't like it to be an all-consuming, full-time thing (especially from the business side of it), I do miss music when it's not more of a regular occurrence in my life. In my soul, I know this. Even logically, I know this. But it's also very easy to run away and convince myself I don't need it. It's just another thing for me to work on. I recognize we all have our challenges. I guess what I'm trying to convey here is that it'll be easier to catch me doing these things a bit more often again.