So last time, I told you about garnering a compliment from Cosy Sheridan when we both appeared at the Songwriter Shuffle at Giuseppe’s in Gloucester. This month’s tale is a somewhat different story, but oddly enough, it’ll end in a similar place.
As you may recall, I’m in the middle of finally recording my next album, at Jeff Root’s studio, the Root Cellar, out in the wilds of Westminster. I don’t enjoy recording – in fact, I’d rather pull my fingernails out with pliers (which wouldn’t actually facilitate the recording process, but that’s kind of the point, I suppose) – but Jeff’s making it as enjoyable as it can be under the circumstances (me lacking fingernails and all). Jeff does a lot of recording, even though he also has a day job: my pal Jon McAuliffe has done some work with him, and Gayle Picard, irrepressable host of the Groton open mike, has recorded several albums with him. He knows what he’s doing.
Jeff’s also a marvelous songwriter – in fact, the reason I chose to do my album with Jeff was my awe at the variety of his material, the cleverness of his lyrics, and the imagination he brings to his production. And Jeff just finished yet another album, and he invited me, Jon, Gayle, and some of his old friends from his Boston rock’n’roll days to help him with his CD release show at the Bull Run this past Sunday.
I had fun. Jeff knows how to fill a room (ringers, I’m pretty sure, but I’m not complaining), and the room, indeed, was pretty full. I did three songs, and then Jon and his wife Patti did three songs, and then Gayle did three songs, and then Jeff’s old band did a few songs, and then Jeff did his feature set. And people applauded, and the music was great, and then we all went home. Just another night in the netherworld of the Boston music scene.
So ordinary, in fact, that it’s hard to keep in mind how remarkable it all is. Jon and Patti performed with some of Jeff’s sidemen. I don’t think these guys had ever heard Jon’s music before 6 PM that evening. But the set was great. Gayle performed with her backup singer and bassist, and their three-part harmonies were excellent. And I, of course, got my laughs pretty much exactly where they were supposed to be. (And I was great, too, but we covered that last month.)
No one’s ever heard of any of us, really. And probably, no one ever will. We’ll win our hundred or thousand fans, and you’ll love our music, and that will be where it ends. But we’re all pros. Our standards are high, and we know our way around a stage, and we know how to pace a set and talk to an audience and engage with our fellow musicians and set a mood and then set a different mood and send you all home feeling like you got your money’s worth. I’ve seen touring musicians who were less professional than every single person who was on that stage last Sunday.
And Boston is full of us. Classical, jazz, rock’n’roll, acoustic. We’re pros because we have to be – the competition is too fierce to win our hundred or thousand fans otherwise. And I’m really, really proud of that. I’m probably guilty of blowing my own horn a bit too often – sometimes in jest, or so I tell you – but this time I’m deadly serious: I’m incredibly grateful for all of you who read and listen, and I’m incredibly grateful for your support while I’ve learned my craft, but I’m also incredibly proud of having learned that craft, and just stunned by how many others like me there are in this town.
I wrote, a long time ago, about the deal between a performer and an audience. And I’ve spent more days than I’d like to count as an audience member listening to a performer who wasn’t pulling his or her weight. So I don’t exactly do it for you, but it’s close – I do it as part of the deal, and as an investment in enjoying the next performance that I attend. This town makes me better, and, I hope, improves your lives as well. Let’s not ever forget how rare it is.