Anatomy of a gig

For those who think that the life of a rock and roll star is all glitz and glamour, here's a walk-through of a typical gig - in this case, the sold-out show Great Northern recently did at Pearl Street Warehouse in DC.

First of all, you have to get there early. Really early. We had an opening band at Pearl Street and so we had to load in and sound check first, so they could set up in front of us. We loaded in at 4 PM for a set starting at 10 PM. At least we didn't have to provide PA for this show. In cases where we do, PA setup is an hour (and a lot of extra schlepping) in and of itself.

The loading dock

Second, loading in is always complicated. For a club you usually come in some back way - through the loading dock and the kitchen, or something like that. Pearl Street shares a loading dock with another music venue, Union Stage, as well as a hotel. One of the features of many such docks is that they are usually where the establishments keep their trash dumpsters, and so they smell pretty bad. Another thing about loading docks is that they are raised about four feet so they'll be the right height for large truck deliveries. In the photo above you can see some stairs on the leading from the floor up to the dock level. That means there's no way I could wheel my gear from the car to the stage since I had to get everything up the stairs. Clyde's in Chevy Chase has a really hard to find loading dock (the first time I played there the band sent me a four page sheet of directions, complete with multiple pictures), but the dock has a cool little elevator you can load your stuff onto so you don't have to carry it up from floor to dock level. I would have been happy just to have spent my night riding up an down the little elevator. (I'm easily amused). Except that the cool elevator was, in fact, next to the usual stinky dumpsters. In contrast, Jammin' Java in Vienna has  a really easy load-in path: you can wheel right in from artist parking and it's a short distance from the stage door to the stage (they too have stinky dumpsters back by where you load in - can't escape 'em).

Another thing about loading in through some back way (in this case, through the dock, down a hallway filled with banquet chairs and other stuff from the hotel, through another door, then around the kitchen storage area, is that you get to see a lot of restaurant-sized food prep tools and quantities of food - something which fascinates me.

Gallons and gallons of hot sauce

Bar/restaurant load-ins tend to be a little easier (and maybe less stinky), but those kinds of establishments often don't have a dedicated stage, so you have to negotiate with the staff to move tables out of the way to create room for the band. Which for whatever reason they usually grumble about. And you find out things like that they have only one working outlet anywhere near the stage.

At every gig, you're going to run into someone cranky. Often it's the sound guy; in this case it was the manager, who was on our case for us to move our cars out of the dock before we had even finished unloading. When I went out to my car to move it, there was a woman from Union Stage (the other club) there working to consolidate the vehicles in the dock. She asked if I could move my car over to the side of the dock, behind our drummer's car. I said "sure". But as I was starting to move my car, the Pearl Street manager barreled up to me and said emphatically and impatiently that I need to get my car out of the dock. I told him that the other woman (who as far as I could tell, had as much jurisdiction over dock real estate as he did) had told me something different. He said, "Do you not understand what I'm saying? YOU. HAVE. TO. GO. PARK. IN. THE. GARAGE." Nice way to interact with your artists.

We knew in advance that we'd only be able to leave one car in the dock, and we had decided in advance that I would be the one to get the spot, since I had the most equipment, but the drummer's car was there, by now blocked in by a big Sprinter van, and he was nowhere in sight, so I lost my spot to him. I had to go down into the garage, where I spent twenty minutes circling for a spot because the place was swarming with fans going to see Keshi at The Anthem, Thuy at Union Stage, and of course, Great Northern at Pearl Street! I made it back just in time for sound check.

Setting up onstage

Clubs usually feed the band before or after the show. I remember possibly the worst was The Carlyle Club in Alexandria. This was a place with a steak and seafood menu, but they didn't serve us that food - instead they ordered cheap takeout pizza for the band. To add insult to injury, since they used their green room (backstage area for the band) as storage, we had to eat our cheap pizza on the floor in a service hallway. Maybe the best band food I've ever experienced was a BBQ joint which brought out a huge buffet of everything left in the kitchen at the end of the night. Pearl Street treats the band decently, if not super-fancily. They provide what is actually a pretty nice green room, which they stocked with water, soda, and some beer. (we had been promised only Miller Lite but in fact they provided some better beer). There was also a bowl of corn chips with salsa, and some pretzels - luxe! With Great Northern there is precious little backstage debauchery. Our super-fan Sue sent back her famous (family-friendly) cupcakes to add to our feast, and someone else sent back what were purported to be special cookies - but as far as I know, no one in the band touched them.

The rare green room that isn't sticky and sweaty

- clean bathroom, too

Dinner backstage

I never know what clubs are going to serve the band so I often bring my own food as a backup. In this case, my car wound up so far away in the garage that I really didn't feel like running back to it for my food and so made do with what they served, which was a buffet-style spread of hamburgers (don't eat 'em), tater tots (don't eat 'em - but I cheated and ate one!), fried chicken nuggets (don't eat 'em), falafel patties (yay!) served unadorned, and salad (yay!). I had a falafel patty, salad, and my one tater tot for dinner. 

But the gigging experience is not all bad - you get to see your name in lights, and in the case of Pearl Street, walk around restricted areas of the club because you've got a cool backstage access sticker.

Our name in lights!

I can go back here. Sorry, you can't ...

... 'cuz I have this cool sticker and you don't

Sorry, you can't come in

Standing in the green room doorway, looking towards the stage.

Having an opening band (or "Supporting Act", as they say in industry parlance) is a mixed bag. It gives you a chance to hang out with your friends in the crowd and relax backstage while the other band plays. But it does mean getting there extra early, and it's twice as many people and twice as much gear to squeeze in.

Our "supporting act": Honeyfunk

Hanging out with friends and checking out the opening band

Backstage with the legendary Ron Holloway, who regaled us with stories of playing with Dizzy Gillespie and Sonny Rollins 

Then comes the magic moment. The lights come up. The crowd goes wild - their screaming is unbelievably loud. You come out. Security moves into place to keep the fans from the stage. Girls swoon. The crowd becomes just one pulsating mass, perfectly in synch with the energy you're sending from the stage. As Jackson Browne put it, you "wander 'round backstage. Till those lights come up and we hear that crowd and we remember why we came." (1) 

Onstage

There's magic synergy as tune after tune comes pouring out. And then, before you know it, it's over. To quote some more from Jackson Browne, "Let the roadies take the stage. Pack it up and tear it down." (2)

Except we don't have roadies. It's us, crawling around the floor unplugging things and coiling cables into the wee hours. Worse still if your show happens to be on springtime daylight savings night, as ours was.

"Pack it up and tear it down"

So you get home at 2 or 3 AM and (if, like me, you don't have a garage), you first have to haul all the gear into the house. For me I'm usually still buzzing with energy when I get home, so I sit around for a while - maybe have a snack - before finally at last crawling into bed with some groupie - oops, I misspoke - I mean to get some well-earned sleep. And gig night is finally over. Until next time.

(1) Browne, J. The Load-Out. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Load-Out. 1977.

(2) op. cit. "The Load-Out"

Two Vignettes

 Vignette 1

On Presidents Day I went on a bike ride with some Freezing Saddles teams. The ride was led by some young, strong riders, so it was a little fast, but those of us in the back still just about kept up. At the end of the ride we stopped for lunch at a delicious vegetarian taco place in Georgetown. Despite it being mid-February, the weather was nice enough that the ten or so of us ate outside on the patio. My cycling friend N was on the ride. She is a breast cancer survivor who chose not to have any reconstruction. After we finished our tacos she reached under her cycling jersey and from her bra cup pulled out a baked sweet potato wrapped in plastic, which she proceeded to unwrap and eat. She explained that since she "has only one boob", she uses her other bra cup as storage on bike rides. I love that she is totally casual about the whole thing, like pulling a sweet potato out of your bra is just the most normal, natural act. It certainly didn't lose her any points with the other cyclists. When N matter-of-factly explained the situation, another woman at the table, who had been working to entice N to join her for an upcoming randonneuring ride (randonneuring is crazy ultra-long distance riding - 120+ mile rides) exclaimed "Oh, you'll fit right in with my group!"

Presidents Day Ride Group

Vignette 2

At a recent Great Northern performance, someone came up to me and said that at first he couldn't tell if it was me or Marty (another keyboard player in the local jam band scene) because I was wearing a hat like Marty wears. Well. First of all, I am a hat guy, and I was a little offended to have been described as looking like Marty because I was wearing a hat, not looking like me. Secondly, it is clear that I am wearing a porkpie, while Marty favors a Trilby (sometimes referred to as a stingy brim fedora). Buddy, if you can't tell the difference between hat styles you shouldn't be commenting on people's hats.

Which does raise the question of why keyboard players are hat people. Four keyboard players cover most of the waterfront in the local jam band scene: if you go out to see a local band playing Grateful Dead music, chances are good that the guy in the keyboard chair is going to be Will, Marty, Murph or me. And we're all hat-wearers. Marty with his Trilbys, Will with his porkpies, Murph with his bowler or cap, and me with a range of styles. I mean, it's not 100%. Lee of Allman Others isn't a hat guy, nor is Shep, and so on. But still ... 

In my case it has to do with the fact that I play head down a lot of the time, and if I'm not wearing a hat people are just seeing my shiny little dome. More generally, while guitarists and bassists get to strut their big, um, instruments, and drummers are back there dynamically hitting things, playing the keyboard is not all that visually different than paying bills. You're essentially sitting at a desk typing on a keyboard. I could be up on stage entering data into TurboTax and it wouldn't look much different. Maybe we keyboardists sense that we're not entertaining to look at and use wardrobe to spice up our stage appearance a little bit.

 

Thai Massage - maybe?

Some friends got me a gift certificate to a Thai massage place for my birthday. They figured I might enjoy Thai bodywork, which is an admixture of massage, Twister, yoga, and wrestling. I waited until after the holidays and finally made an appointment for my massage last week.

The brochure which came with my gift certificate listed three massage options: Traditional Thai Yoga Bodywork ($139 for 90 minutes), Signature, which is described as a blend of Eastern and Western techniques (also $139), and Signature Deluxe, which is Signature plus hot oil ($140). When I called to make my reservation the woman with whom I spoke insisted that there were only two options: Traditional Thai and hot oil. She asked the amount of my gift certificate and when I told her "$139" she said, "oh, that's the amount for Traditional Thai - that's what I'll put you down for". There was a bit of a language barrier in our conversation and I just couldn't get across to her the ideas that (a) I wanted to understand my options before choosing one, and (b) if appropriate I would come up with the one dollar to cover the difference between my gift certificate value and the cost of the Signature Deluxe. Eventually I gave up and just accepted her choice of the Traditional Thai, since that option was interesting to me anyway.

It was cold and rainy the day of my massage, but I was greeted warmly when I showed up. The first thing they have you do is change into these funky Thai pajamas. Then they give you a foot bath - not really my thing, but not a negative, except that it was really hot. As I soaked I told Tina, my masseuse, that this was my first time there and I didn't really know what to expect. She looked surprised, saying that the reservation specifically asked for her. I said no, unless my friends who got me the gift certificate somehow specified it - but it was hard to see how that would have worked, since when I made the reservation I wasn't asked for any sort of gift certificate number or other identifier. But it didn't matter - fate had brought the two of us together.

In my Thai massage PJ's

Tina asked me what I wanted her to work on, and in reply I said that I didn't really have any specific issues. She then asked, "You want relaxing?", to which I answered yes - who doesn't like relaxation? This turned out to be a big mistake, since once she heard I was interested in relaxation she made up her mind that the hot oil massage was what I wanted, a position from which she could not be dissuaded. As with when I made my reservation, I tried to explain to her that I wanted to better understand my options before deciding, but everything I said was met with an identical response that hot oil was what I wanted. I have experienced this kind of stonewalling before - mostly from people from other cultures. I have no basis for saying this other than my own experience, but I think Americans' idea of negotiation (current politics notwithstanding) is for both sides to state their opening positions then immediately begin to look for common ground, whereas in some other cultures the approach seems to be to stick to your initial bid for as many iterations as possible, hoping to get the other party to concede first. I experienced this in the past when I shopped in Itaewon in Seoul, and again here - no matter what I said, Tina would repeat the exact same response that what I wanted was a hot oil massage. And she indeed won the negotiation - after a few laps of this I shrugged and agreed to the hot oil massage.

In short, the massage itself was quite enjoyable and, dare I say, relaxing. It was closer to a Western massage than I had been expecting: a little rougher, with use of elbows and such, but none of the walk on you and twist you like Gumby stuff I had been anticipating. I did very much enjoy it. And I got a $140 massage for only $139 - score!

I might go back some time to experience the actual Thai Bodywork massage. If I do, maybe I'll even ask specifically for Tina.

MLK Bike Ride

 Since first becoming a bike commuter in 2015 I have frequented the BikeArlington "Coffee Club" groups - cyclists who meet in the morning for coffee on their way to work (or these days, just meet then ride home again, plenty of people no longer commute to an office every day). Since the pandemic I have attended less frequently, as without a commute I can't always motivate myself to get out the door at 6:30 AM. Anyway, on Monday holidays the coffee club gathering starts later, moves from its normal location to Lazy Mikes in Falls Church, and is known as "Monday Pancakes". None of which is quite germane to this story, except to say that SteveO planned an MLK-themed bike ride for the day. The ride would start at Lazy Mike's at the end of Monday Pancakes, but there were other places specified where one could meet up with the group along the route, as follows:

Ride details:
Depart Lazy Mike's: 9:50 am
(intermediate pickup points, estimated times):

• Bluemont caboose - 10:15-10:25
• MVT at Crystal City Connector - 10:45 - 11:00
• etc.

I chose not to go to pancakes - other things to do in the AM, plus I knew I would be eating dinner out and don't like to eat multiple restaurant meals in one day (too much fat, too many calories ...). Instead, I showed up at te Bluemont caboose just ahead of 10:15. A few minutes later another rider pulled up at the caboose. It was Chris R, who can see the bike trail from his house. He said, "they've already gone past here - I saw them go by from my house a few minutes ago." Just then Nadine showed up, also intending to meet the group at the caboose. The three of us spent a couple of minutes grumbling that if someone posts a meeting place and time for a ride, they should honor it - and then we decided we'd follow after them (we knew they were headed for the MLK Memorial). If we caught up with them, fine; if not, the three of us would have a nice ride of our own.

We did indeed catch up with the group down near Crystal City. While SteveO had completely ignored the stop at the Bluemont caboose (grumble, grumble), he did briefly stop at the Crystal City Connector. We caught the group there and continued together to the MLK Memorial.

Me, two Chris's, and Nadine at the MLK Memorial

At the memorial we gave SteveO a hard time about the fact that he had blown off the Bluemont meeting point, which he attempted to make our fault. He said, "well, you know is someone lists a flyby time that you should be there at least five minutes early." But it wasn't listed as a flyby time, it was listed as a ten minute window, and there is no such understanding about needing to be there early (which we were - just not early enough). He also tried to slough off responsibility by saying that he didn't even remember what time he was supposed to be where anyway - again, not really a valid defense for a ride leader. I like SteveO, but I think I lost a little respect for him on Monday.

As expected, the MLK Memorial was crowded on MLK Day. Slowly, members of our group began to drift away. It turns out the plan was to regroup outside the nearby bathrooms, though that hadn't been well communicated across the group of 15-ish cyclists. Thankfully, someone spread the word and we made it over there before the group left.

From there the ride continued over Douglas Bridge into Southeast DC where the plan was to visit a mural of Martin Luther King painted on the side of a convenience store on Martin Luther King Avenue. Except the mural was no longer there. After having been vandalized (who would vandalize an MLK mural?) it had been painted over. SteveO knew this, but he had already planned the route, so we rode there to see a grey wall where once upon a time there had been a mural. We also had another incident along the way where SteveO - the guy who knew the route - was riding near the back of the group so a bunch of people missed a turn. Thank goodness for cell phones. He texted the people and they soon returned.

SteveO talks about the blank wall

As we approached the convenience store we had ridden around two police cars which were blocking off traffic on Martin Luther King Avenue. We didn't think much about this - someone mentioned that there was a parade, but we didn't see any signs of it. At that point we probably should have just have doubled-back the way we came, but SteveO decided to push ahead with his planned route up Martin Luther King Avenue which would eventually take us back over the Anacostia River to the Navy Yard area and a planned lunch stop at BlueJacket Brewing.

Except, as I have already mentioned, we were on a parade route. As we rode we caught up with the parade. First it was a drum line and some twirlers off on a side street. We had to go up on the sidewalk to get around the onlookers, but the full parade-iness of the situation still didn't hit us. Then we started catching up with floats and marching bands. Now, this is a very home-grown kind of parade, so it wouldn't have been completely out of line for a group of cyclists to have been part of the parade, except for the fact that roughly 100% of the parade onlookers and participants were African American, and we were roughly fifteen mostly white people with our fancy bikes and "kit". Apparently, some parade-goers did mistake us for participants and even asked what group we were with. No one seemed to mind that we were there, but we did stick out like something of a sore thumb. 

We pressed on up the parade route, riding past a Coast Guard honor guard and their RHIB boat, some more bands, and other floats. It kept getting harder and harder to make progress as we got deeper into the parade and its crowds. Finally, we gave up and turned right onto Stanton Road, hoping to go a block and continue on a street parallel to MLK Avenue - except Suitland Parkway runs through there and messes up the street grid, so we turned north onto Sheridan Rd. and had to cross the parade route again. We continued on Sheridan Road and made it to Anacostia Park. At that point we could see the Anacostia River Trail but couldn't quite figure out how to get to it. We tried one street, which turned out to be a dead end. We backtracked. We saw a road leading into the park, but it was gated. Someone tried the gate - it was open! - and there were no "keep out" signs, so we went through the gate, gingerly rode past the Park Police headquarters, and - voila! - made it onto the Anacostia River Trail at last. From there it was a quick hop over the river to Navy Yard.

The group (minus a few who had already peeled off) arrives at BlueJacket

Neither Nadine nor I were really interested in hanging out for lunch. She's still not dining indoors at restaurants, and I know the menu is composed of nothing but bar food that's not on my diet, so the two of us took a quick snack break outside then headed for Arlington. Our ride home was pretty uneventful, except for having to stop to take layers off before we made the climb from Rosslyn. It was an unusually warm day for January, and we both knew we'd overheat on the steep hill up from the Potomac into Arlington if we didn't remove some of our layers. Nadine's style is to wear loud, colorful, and generally clashing bike gear, and she had kind of outdone herself that day in level of clothing loudness and clashing; however, she hesitated to take off her bright orange safety vest because she felt that without it her outfit would look too loud. I assured her that nothing was going to make that outfit look any louder (well, I didn't quite phrase it that way).

Back home we went. As a friend said to me during the ride, "SteveO's rides are fun because you always come home with some chaos story to tell." Indeed.

 

First paddle of the year - Duck Season

For the last few years I've bought access to Bull Run Marina, which is a public facility but with essentially members-only access. You pay an annual fee to get the key to the locked entry gate. I go there only in the winter, which makes the annual fee ($65 for a parking pass plus $25 for the key) a little bit of an extravagance, but it's still a lot cheaper than golf or skiing, and it provides me with a very protected place to safely kayak in the winter. Plus, the parking pass is valid at a number of other regional parks, so I generally get my money's worth out of it.

I headed there today, an unseasonably warm (high of 60 degrees!) early January day. I would have kayaked yesterday, New Year's Day, but I had a gig in the evening and didn't want my fingers all tight from having paddled. I expected the place to be empty, but there were quite a few cars there, plus people passing through on the hiking trail which crosses the facility.

I headed up the creek and immediately realized I was out of paddling shape - it took me a little while to find my paddling groove. The water was quiet. Not much wildlife, though there were a lot of kingfishers around, a few of the smarter turtles had figured out that this was a great day for sunning themselves, and I did see one eagle. I was wearing my contact lenses, which leave me with slightly fuzzier distance vision than when I wear glasses (I wear contacts infrequently so my eyes just aren't used to them). At one point I spotted an egret by the shore - bright white and standing motionless as they tend to do. I paddled slowly, taking care not to disturb it (egrets and herons are particularly skittish). It allowed me to approach it and when I finally got close I realized it was actually a white plastic bag hanging from a branch. Like I said, my vision with contacts is less than perfect 😳

Out on the water!

I started hearing gunshots as I was paddling. The creek passes along the boundary of both the Fairfax Rod and Gun Club and the Bull Run Shooting Range and so gun noise isn't unusual - though this was too loud too soon. I realized what was going on when I rounded a corner and saw some hunters in a motorized duck blind (a heavily camouflaged boat) sitting and waiting with their decoys out. I was glad I was wearing my usual garish collection of bright colors - yellow boat, bright orange dry suit, orange PFD, orange paddle. As long as I stand out and look other-than-duck colored I'm pretty safe. I passed a second group of hunters, These guys had cool motorized decoys which would occasionally flap their wings (actually the wings would spin, but with my poorly corrected vision the effect was pretty good). I presume birds fall for it too.

At one point I pulled over to the shore to check something and in the distance I saw a deer bound by. I swear, it was an albino deer - or at least a very very light-colored one. It looked like some sort of magical creature - a Harry Potter animagus animal, or something. It went by so fast I wasn't sure what I saw - maybe it was just the white tail that looked so white - but I it looked to me like a magical white deer. I swear, wearing contact lenses is the best - I can imagine I saw all sort of things 

Not far past the abandoned car which marks the turnaround for a five mile paddle (how did that thing wind up in the woods?) I spotted something I had never noticed before - a dirt road leading down to the water. On a low bluff above the spot there was a level site with a picnic table and a fire ring. It looked to be a campsite with water access. I got out and looked around. I was getting excited about having discovered this little campsite, but after looking on the map I'm pretty sure it's private - on the property of the Rod & Gun Club property. Bummer. Since I was already ashore I took a break and ate one of the last of Valerie's Christmas cookies before relaunching and heading back. Here's the location of the road/campsite.

The mystery boat launch/campsite

Cherry Pecan cookies

On my way back the duck hunters were all gone, but I did spot a single decoy which had been left behind (I should have grabbed it as a souvenier!) and I ran into one guy still loading his camo boat onto its trailer back at the marina. In general, Elmer Fudd's progeny aren't particularly friendly to kayakers, but this guy was very personable. He even helped me load my kayak onto my car. He said the hunters leave at about that time of day because the ducks stop coming by then.

Not a real goose

My total paddling mileage was five and change miles - thought it felt like much more. I think I need to start doing some paddling-focused workouts.

 

Monitor Madness

I've written about this before (more than once), but it keeps happening, so I have to kvetch about it again. Any time you play a music gig of any scale, there are in essence three sound systems. First, each musician makes their own noise through their own amplifier or, in the case of instruments like drums, makes plenty of noise without amplification - in any case, each instrument makes its own noise. Second, you have the PA system everyone knows about, which amplifies the band for the audience. The band is behind the speakers from this system and so doesn't generally hear much from it onstage. The third sound system, that non-musicians don't always know about, is a separate system (called "monitors") for amplifying the sound onstage, so that musicians can all hear each other - and also vocals. In a PA of any quality you can have multiple mixes onstage if, for example, maybe I want to hear the bass player through my monitor but the singers just want to hear their voices.

In any case, it all works pretty well except that a good monitor mix is hard to come by. Sound onstage can get very loud and muddy. Also, people onstage who don't have microphones have no way to communicate back to the sound person, so if, for example, we start playing and it turns out I have way too much guitar in my monitor there's really no way for me to communicate to the sound person that I would like it adjusted.

On top of all this there's the pièce de résistance - remember up top I said there are in effect three sound systems? Well, for some reason sound people always want the keyboard player to plug directly into the PA and not use an amp of their own, thereby depriving them of sound system #1. If I give up my amp (sound system #1), and ncan't hear sound system #2, the main PA, I'm left with hearing myself only through sound system #3, the monitor system. Remember, though, what I said - that a good monitor mix is hard to come by, and I have no way of communicating desired adjustments to whomever is controlling the mix. So if I put myself in the hands of the sound person and they do a poor job it's possible for me to have to play a whole show without being able to hear myself at all (which has indeed happened). And yet, sound people always put on the pressure for the keyboardist to go direct (no amp) and some even get offended when I bring my own.

And of course, it keeps happening.

In early November I played a CD release party for a singer/songwriter of Jewish music, Rabbi Noah Diamondstein. This was a wonderful combination religious service and concert involving a number of young talents in the Jewish music biz. But they actually called me the afternoon of the vent to tell me not to worry and that I didn't need to bring an amp, because there was a monitor for me. I know better than to believe this, so as usual I brought my amp anyway. I got there, and lo and behold the monitor was this tiny speaker the size of a toaster (that's really small for a stage monitor, particularly for an instrument with a wide frequency range such as a keyboard), and it was shared among me, the bass player (who, needless to say, had his own amp, which no one contested), and another position where one of the musicians went for one song to play a harmonium). So the speaker was insufficient for the job, was far away from me, and had to be set with a mix which would serve three people. I tried using just the monitor for the sound check, but on top of everything else the mixer was of the modern wireless iPad based virtual kind, and the sound guy kept having connectivity problems. Sooo ... during the break after sound check I brought my amp in from the car and set it up. When the sound guy saw this he shrugged and with a slight air of offense in his voice said, "if you feel the need to haul that thing in it's your back". He then moved the toaster-sized monitor away from me and toward the other two players, which didn't make any sense. While my amp looks kind of like like a stage monitor, it was serving a different purpose and wasn't hooked up to the PA system (he should have realized this, since he would have had to have been the one to have hooked it up) and so I still needed the monitor to hear the singers. I moved it back. He moved it again. I moved it back again. 

The concert went fine and was a lovely experience, and what a spread at the oneg (reception after the service)!

It happened a few weeks later again at the New Deal Cafe, where I was playing a gig with Great Northern. Scott, the volunteer (the cafe is a co-op) soundman who looks like Frank Langella, on a pervious occasion had given me the whole sound-man poutiness routine. There were monitors across the front of the stage for the singers, guitarists, and bass player, and one for the drummer, but guess what - none for me. They just figured I'd get enough sound from the singer's monitor. I don't think Frank Langella noticed my amp, which I set up in the back of the stage behind me, and so he didn't have a chance to act pouty about the fact that he was doing an inadequate job. The sound was fine. It was a great night with lots of people dancing.

But I'm thinking of having business cards made which say, "the keyboard player needs his own monitor too".

----

Update 1/2/23: Last week I played at a high class venue which hosts national acts. Their stage setup included five monitors: three across the front of the stage and one for each drummer. Guess who as usual didn't get a monitor? The keyboard player. 

Coffeeneuring 2022 - Didn't quite make it

 If you have read this blog for long enough you've probably come across my annual logs of coffeeneuring, a fun challenge sponsored by the cycling blog Chasing Mailboxes. It's not a competition, just a friendly game to get you out riding to new places and enjoying hot bean-based bevarges. As the blog puts it, you "Ride your bike to 7 different locations from Friday October 7 through Sunday November 20, 2022, and drink a coffeeneuring-approved beverage." There are some additional rules, but that's the gist of it. As I've mentioned before, the cycling world just loves little contests, challenges, competitions, themed activities, and the like. Well, sad to say I didn't complete the challenge this year. I did six coffee rides but never got around to doing a seventh. Here are my 2022 coffeeneuring rides:

Week 1: 10/7 - 13

Ride 1 (10/9): For some reason, library cards have an expiration date. I guess every once in a while the library wants to check that you still live in the jurisdiction and are eligible. In writing this, I checked my very old Brooklyn Public Library card, which for some reason I have saved all these years. It too had an expiration date: (12/3/86 !!), so I guess it's not a new practice. Anyway, my card had expired so I biked over to the central library in Ballston to renew it. Having ridden the first two miles or so of the Arlington loop I figured I might has well ride the other 18, so I rode the rest of the way around. Coffee stop was at Peet's in Shirlington, where I got a decaf Americano.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/7938344037

Coffee at Peet's in Shirlington

Ride #2 (10/10): I lead rides for Arlington's 55+ (senior citizen) program. I will not bore you with the effort that was required to qualify as a ride leader for this program (I had to write a cycling resume and undergo a background check!). The group draws riders with widely varying levels of availability, and so the rides are fairly slow and easy. I've become friends with a few of my fellow geezers (I'm the youngster of the group!) and we get together on the side to do rides on our own - definitely faster and more miles than the official rides. This was one of those peer rides - Bluemont Park to Reston Town Center. Coffee stop was at Pitango at Reston Town Center, where I got a decaf Americano.

Strava link: https://strava.com/activities/7942786913

With John and Gordon outside Pitango

Week 2: 10/14 - 20

No qualifying rides

Week 3: 10/21 - 27

Ride #3 (10/21): Not too much to write about here. Another Arlington loop ride, with some route modifications: due to construction on the Four Mile Run Trail I exited the trail at Eads Street and rode through Crystal City, rejoining the Mount Vernon Trail at Columbia Island Marina. Also, rather than getting on the Custis Trail in Rosslyn I took Route 50 so I could check out the always-awesome Halloween decorations on Jackson Street. Coffee stop was at Compass Coffee in Ballston, where I got a decaf Americano (reader, are you noticing a pattern in my coffee orders?).

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/7998480774

Coffee at Compass on Fairfax Drive

Jackson Street Halloween decorations

Week 4: 10/28 - 11/3

Ride #4 (10/30): I've got a big night coming up in November. As part of the celebration weekend for a milestone birthday, I'll be going to see a musician named Billy Strings at The Anthem and I wanted to check out what bars looked good to meet people for a pre-show drink. So I rode to The Wharf. I used a five dollar gift Starbucks certificate my son Ted had given me to get a decaf latte at the local Starbucks there, and was unpleasantly surprised to find that five bucks doesn't quite cover a grande latte there. Sheesh, things have gotten expensive. My son works at Stanford University Medical Center and the staff had gotten the gift certificates as a show of appreciation from management (Woo hoo! Five bucks!). Starbucks is too pedestrian for a Silicon Valley coffee snob like my son, so he tossed the gift certificate to me. Coffee stop: Starbucks @ the Wharf, where I got a decaf latte.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/8045232884

No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow
And as long as it does I'll just sit here
And watch the river flow

Ride #5 (11/1): As I've written about many times, BikeArlington facilitates daily morning coffee get-togethers for cyclists. These meetups were for many years attended mostly by bike commuters on their way to work, but in the pandemic world, people don't commute to work as much (or even work as much), so they've just become gatherings for anyone who wakes up early enough. There's a fairly longstanding tradition of doing special gatherings for injured cyclists, a practice which I think actually was invented for me when I had heart surgery. In any case, I know we've since done them for Gina after her crash and Samantha after her accident (and maybe others I'm forgetting). This ride was to a visiting-the-sick coffee club for Robyne, who is recovering from an elbowdectomy (or something like that). Coffee stop: Northside Social Falls Church, where I got a decaf Americano, and a muffin! 

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/8052249611

Week 5: 11/4- 11/10

 Ride #6 (11/9): A visit to a different weekday coffee club. I've really slacked off in recent months about going to the morning coffee clubs. I'm just not motivated to go out in the cold and dark mornings when my schedule allows me the flexibility to ride later in the day when it's warmer and brighter. But coffeeneuring is motiving me to get out there. Coffee stop: Hump Day Coffee Club at Best Buns in Shirlington. I brought my own coffee (sigh, decaf as usual). If I order a decaf at Best Buns they'll put up a pot (unlike Starbucks, where they just say they're out and offer a weak pour-over instead), but I hate to make them make a whole urn-full for my one cup, since I'm pretty sure no one else drinks decaf in the AM (which is why it's never already brewed when I order it), so I sneak my own in. Also, I wish they would resume making their sourdough bran muffins. They were really good, but they stopped making them during the pandemic. 

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/8091925476

Ken's group photo - he barely got me in

Week 6: 11/11- 11/18

None

"Week" 7: 11/19- 11/20

None