As I continue to gain experience not only as the drummer, the guitar player, sometimes the bass player, and the backup vocals trapped in an iPad, but also as the roadie, the booker, the baker, and the candlestick maker, in Euphemism’s Prism, I see more clearly that live music is an ambiguous phrase with at least three senses.
There is the live audience, feeding energy and purpose to the live musician(s). The audience, of course, cannot reside on a track in an iPad, but must be physically in the room, sometimes dancing, smiling, holding hands, etc. Then there is the live musician(s), serving up a chef’s concoction of sounds through body and breath, joyfully using the tools of the art they have honed. Then there is the group together on common ground that holds fast only for this event, cannot be replicated though it can be filmed or recorded, the experience of satisfying a basic human need like belonging, connecting, making contact with fellow travelers through space and time. Music is a social glue.
Last night, I performed at the Fig Tree in Roseville, California, on an evening in August when Northern California was being ravaged by wild fires and the air was thick with smoke, an orange haze spread like melted stale butter over the frame of the air. Alpha COVID was all but retired, its spread taken over by the mutant delta, airborne as invisible smoke cloaked in the smoke from the fires, and deadly for the unvaccinated, including the children. I forgot to, but intended to, play my take on Bad Moon Rising where we get the warning don’t go round tonight.
Of course, though I announced this gig to all of my friends long ago, though many had wanted to come, few of them could make it. I was touched by the breadth and sincerity of the texts apologizing for not showing up, though not surprised. My friends are rooting for me in this venture into second childhood, and I deeply appreciate it. With collective action like staying home if a risk is perceived, encouraging vaccination, and modifying our shared relationship with our environment, we shall prevail, and I may yet make it to the Ed Sullivan show. Until then I’ll keep posting event dates, and all of us will do everything we can to minimize the risk of danger, especially when we see a bad moon on the rise.