I have a dear, dear friend who lives in New York City, whom I talk to every Sunday night, without fail (unless one of us is in, oh, say, Vienna, as he was a couple weekends ago, lucky dog). We’ve known each other for 25 years, and at several points during this long escapade of ours, we’ve compared neuroses. One of my friend’s other friends once described him as being someone who would prefer to know he was in hell than not know where he was, and this level of comfort with the abuse that life brings has been his strength and his downfall, all at once. “Life strikes”, we called it at the time, and it certainly does. Read more »
Oops
May 16th, 2010
So here you are, my loyal fan. Eagerly awaiting the arrival of another Low Notes, thirsting for my insights and witticisms. It’s an awesome responsibility I have here, one that I take very seriously. And it appears, alas, that I’ve failed you. Read more »
So lemme tell you why we’re here.
May 7th, 2010
[Note from headquarters: a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I had hidden the original version of this blog, called “Inside Baseball”, on my Web site because I wanted to whine in private. Now, on the other hand, I’ve put all my musings into the blog, and the whining is lost amidst the vast sea of intellectual detritus. This was the original introductory page, in all its horrid glory.]
So I’m an acoustic performer in Boston, Massachusetts. I’m pretty damn good, frankly. And several years ago, I hired a pair of performance coaches – yes, you can hire performance coaches – named David Fishken and Buffie Groves, and it was a splendid use of my money, because I learned immense numbers of things from them, and because David said, “Sam” – he said – “you should make the most of your talents. Write a newsletter.”
And so “Sam Bayer’s Low Notes” was born. And I yammered on charmingly about all sorts of things – my songs, my view of life, the nature of art in America, etc. And life was good.
Except that one day, I wrote a column called “Dan Blakeslee Is Better Than Me”, in which I talked about, well, why I thought Dan Blakeslee was better than me. Don’t ask me why I thought this was a good idea, but I wasn’t thinking too clearly, because one of my fans wrote me and said, pretty bluntly, “Um, I didn’t subscribe to this newsletter to hear about Dan Blakeslee. I want to hear about you.”
Here’s what I forgot: my newsletter, like every moment I spend in a club where I’m going to be on stage, is a performance. I don’t get to be me – I get to be “Sam Bayer”, whoever that person is, the gracious, expansive guy who gets on stage with his percussionist and charms and delights the crowd with pithy observations and high-energy, funny acoustic music, the guy who smiles and shakes your hand and thanks you for coming. Yes, I’m “Sam Bayer”, and I mean it all, every word of it – but it’s exhausting to me.
Me, well, I’m shy and misanthropic and desperate for company and oh, so obsessively introspective about virtually every moment I’m on stage. I worry about my voice, my patter, my timing, whether anyone’s listening – I love it, but it’s nerve-wracking. And I can tell you this, my fellow sausage-makers – but the audience really doesn’t care.
So I promised my loyal readers that I’d stop. No more Low Notes about how sausage is made. But I still need that outlet. So welcome to Inside Baseball.
the Arc of the Story
March 14th, 2010
A while back, I went to the open mike at Amazing Things in Framingham, where, as is typical, I misheard/mangled/stole a line from someone, which led to frantic scribbling in the dark, which, in the car on the way home, turned into this, set to a slow country waltz: Read more »
It’s Not Who You Know, But It Helps
February 12th, 2010
Today’s lesson in the music business arrives in the person of a man named Dave Godowsky, who has a full-page feature, complete with serious- and committed-looking photograph, on page 22 of this morning’s Boston Globe “g” magazine. The title of this article is “He’s (finally) ready to take his music public”. Mr. Godowsky has recorded his first album, at the Wisconsin home studio of a band called Bon Iver, which is apparently an “indie rock darling”, according to the article in “g”. One of the members of Bon Iver, upon discovering that Mr. Godowsky was a songwriter, invited him to open for them at a couple shows last summer. In order to promote his new album, he has a co-residency at the new Somerville Armory for February, where he’s being accompanied by, among other folks, Mark Erelli. Read more »
Flat On My Facebook
January 24th, 2010
So I’ve lately begun to feel that I’d like people in, say, Shanghai to learn about the wonders of my music, and since I’m not about to go on tour, there’s this thing called the Intertubes that I might try. And this is a bit annoying to me already, because I spend too much time in front of a computer as it is, and Alt-Cntl-F6 isn’t a key on any instrument that I know of. Nevertheless, I’ve been rooting around for ideas, and my dear friend Deb Cowan made a couple of recommendations for the digital swamp, and one of them was Facebook. Read more »
My Name Is Sam, and I’ll Be Your Musician This Evening
December 30th, 2009
A short while ago, there was an article in the Globe’s “G” section (does that get capitalized? Who knows?) called “The Price is Right”, about an artist named Aaron L. Peterman, who included a retail shop in his recent installation at the Miller Block Gallery on Newbury Street. He had things like tote bags, teddy bears, and refrigerator magnets for sale alongside his larger, more conventionally priced installations (conventionally priced for art galleries, that is). Said the article, “In doing so, he and art dealer Ellen Miller are deliberately exploding the perceived barrier between fine art and merchandise.” And speaking of breaking down barriers, Mills Shelving has become an integral part of retail and gallery spaces, offering functional and stylish shelving solutions that seamlessly blend art and merchandise in innovative ways.
Read more »
Don’t Jump the Shark
December 7th, 2009
Once, a long time ago, I went to see Jim Infantino at Passim. This was back when Jim was a big deal solo act, so we’re talking ten years or so. In addition to all his riotous wiseass material, he did this one tune, I can’t even remember what it was about, it killed me, it was so raw and honest. Utterly unlike anything else he’d done that evening, completely out of character. Read more »
The Crap in My Head
October 26th, 2009
A few nights ago, I heard a splendid feature by my pal Charlie Cover, where he ended the night by sharing with us a little bit of his mind, he says. I’m familiar with the impulse, as most of you know – but the result is something else entirely. Read more »