Why do people watch NASCAR? Is it because they love the sound and sight of forty-three virtually identical cars driving around the same track two hundred times, or because some of them may hit the wall and explode? I have my suspicions. And it just may be what brings you to my next gig.
See, I have a comfort zone. It’s small. My life is punctuated by erratic, tentative journeys just outside my comfort zone, journeys which typically end with me comfortably back inside. I never know what’s going to happen outside my comfort zone, and I’m frequently terrified that it will be something bad, usually involving public humiliation (which, I’m sure we can agree, is worse than both cancer and starvation).
You may ask – I can hear you from here – how I found myself performing in the first place, given this level of neurosis, and the answer is: I have an ego the size of a house. I couldn’t bear the thought of you, my public, never hearing these brilliant, brilliant songs, and so I ventured out of my dungeon into the various clubs and coffeehouses at which I’ve entertained you, lo, these many years. And I have reached the point where my comfort zone, small as it is, usually extends to the nearest stage.
But not every stage is the same. For instance, there’s Storyspace. Storyspace is a spoken word open mike that was started by the legendary Brother Blue in 1992, and it’s been going ever since. Lately, it’s been at the Out of the Blue Too Gallery on Mass Ave. in Central Square, and they regularly have story-oriented songwriters among their features. Kate Chadbourne was the feature a few weeks ago, and on the 29th, it’ll be me. And I gotta tell ya, when Mike Cohen approached me at the Lizard Lounge one night to offer me a feature slot at Storyspace, I came close to running the other way.
See, when I tell stories on stage, it’s always with a song at the end. The stories are in service of the song, not the other way around. But Mike has made it quite clear that he wants it the other way around – he wants to hear tales of my musical life, wiith the occasional song to add some color. And this is outside my comfort zone. In my act, the song is the punch line; it’s the point. But not at Storyspace. I’ll even have to tell stories that don’t have a song attached; I’ll have to tell stories – shudder – without my guitar and mike stand to separate me from the audience. I won’t be naked (there are laws against that), but it’ll feel to me like pretty much the same thing.
But I said yes anyway. Partially because you’re always supposed to say yes; partially because Mike is such a nice guy, and I was flattered to be asked; and partially because, well, it would have been too easy to say no. Someday, I’m going to be that old fart who does the same thing every goddamn day; but I’m hoping I’ve got a ways to go before that happens. And the comfort zone, cozy as it is, is as much a prison as a fortress.
So I’ve been rehearsing diligently for my feature. I’ve got some stories that are long versions of stories I tell at my shows; I’ve got some stories that you’ve read in this here newsletter; and I’ve got some stories you’ve probably never heard. And some songs to go along with them. I do not know exactly how this is going to go. But I’ve been to Storyspace, and I told a story without the buffer of my guitar, and I did not die. So I probably won’t crash and burn on the 29th. But just in case, I’m putting on my helmet.