This is old (and Racist?!?)

I just found this on my computer, and since I'm not in the mood to write, yet feel like I should be adding something to this blog, I decided to post it here.

I posted this on my site last year, and was immediately accused of being a RACIST. No big surprise, considering the reactive, p.c., extra-sensitive times we live in. The point is-I was trying to explain how (perhaps for the first time that I was aware of) I was a victim of (perceived) RACISM. Whatever. You either get it, or you don't.

Speaking of "not getting it," yesterday, a friend of mine told me she had checked out my blog and found it "self-serving/immodest/self-aggrandizing/masturbatory/indulgent/look-at-me-aren't-I-cool/etc." I don't recall the exact terminology that was used.

Is it? I really have a hard time seeing that. Shit, my first real post was about being humbled by the guy who served me my french fries! Again, whatever. If you think I'm a prick, cool. No one is forcing anyone to read my crap. Go download some midget porn, or something, instead.

In the meantime, here's a long, uninteresting thing I wrote over a year ago. Enjoy:


MY GIG AT TERRA BLUES
By: Shawn Hendricks
Age 31

So, as many of you are aware, I played a gig with The Saron Crenshaw Blues Band at Terra Blues in New York City Saturday night. I had promised in my earlier e-mail that I would write a follow-up/review of my evening, so, here it is. To quote The Amazing Linn Walker-"I don't know where to begin." There is much to cover, so bear with me.

This was not an easy gig for me to pull off for a few reasons. Firstly (I'm not sure that's even a word), I had to drive into N.Y.C. alone, to a venue I've never been to. This may not seem like a big deal to most of you, but you're normal people. You see, ever since I was a youth, I've disliked New York City. I'm not sure why, but I have a theory-its my Mom's fault! She's a bit on the "nervous side" when it comes to her children. Very protective. For as long as I can remember, she's told me how "dangerous" N.Y.C. is. I think her irrational fears rubbed off on my subconscious, and now I don't like going into "The City." I always get a vague sense of unease when heading in, but luckily, it usually dissapates after a few drinks.

Also, I seem to lose all sense of direction (and about 50 I.Q. points) upon entering N.Y. I just can't seem to find my way around. Probably another manifestation of Mom's early "aversion therapy." So, going into N.Y. alone(!) and finding my way to Terra Blues was a small step towards "healing my issues," or some such nonsense.

Another problem was, once I found the place (which was actually pretty easy to get to), it turned out I was the first one from the band to get there. I had to double park and run my gear up the steps (three trips) while making sure I wasn't either (a) getting a ticket, or (b) getting my gear stolen. What a pain in the ass.

Once that ordeal was done, I had to park. The less said about that, the better. Twenty-five minutes later...

I enter the main room of Terra Blues. Small, but trendy, and packed. The opening act was on stage, and they were excellent! Two harmonica players, drums, lap steel, guitar, and tuba. Fucking tuba! That cat played bass lines on that thing better than many guys play electric bass. I was very impressed (read: intimidated) by the whole band.

Then, the guys I was to play with showed up. Scott (the drummer who got me the gig) introduced me to the rhythm guitarist, who was pretty cool. I forget his name, I'm awful with names, but he was a cool, older black guy. Then Scott introduced me to Saron. Now, I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that cat hated me on sight. He was dressed to the nines-cool hat, dress shirt, vest, slacks, shiny leather shoes, pinky ring-a total "older blues guy." Here I am, jeans and a t-shirt-which was okay, Scott and the other guitarist were dressed like me. The problem was, I'm white. Really white. "Cracker McCracker White." Now, I think Scott had told Saron that I'm a white guy, but perhaps not, because that guy did not look pleased. Which did nothing for my confidence.

It was bad enough that I had to play a place I've never played before, with guys I've never met (excluding Scott), playing songs I've never heard before, but on top of that-the leader of the band hated my face! At first I though I was being paranoid, but then I overheard Scott reassuring Saron (three times!) that I'm a good bassist. I even caught a snippet of Saron saying something to the effect of "I could've gotten (so-and-so) to cover last minute, but you had already told your friend the gig was his..." See you, confidence...

So, we hit the stage to a packed house, and I'm shitting a brick. Saron's whole method was to shout out to me (in front of the whole crowd, who were most likely wondering what the fuck a 'relatively' skinny, young white boy was doing out on stage with some serious, older black bluesmen) right before the song the key and what kind of feel I should play with. For example: "A flat minor 12-bar shuffle...one, two, three..." at which point I had to jump right in and hit it.

This actually wasn't too difficult, but there were some problems. A few times, Saron would tell me the structure, and then play the song differently! In one tune, he told me the progression is "1-4-6-2" (its a music thing, you don't really have to know what it means), so I get to the "6," and the ryhthm guitarist looks at me like I have two heads. I lean over and ask him "Where's the 6?", and he says, "What 6? There ain't no 6 in this tune!" Shit. This happened a few times throughout the night, Saron would tell me one thing, and the song would do another. I don't know if he was fucking with me, or maybe he was taught differently, or whatever.

Besides these few minor mishaps, the first set was pretty good. I played it very safe, didn't step out much. I hit about 80% of the stuff pretty much dead on, which isn't too bad, considering I didn't know the material, and the fact that the set was an hour and a half long! Most "normal" sets are about 45 minutes. The crowd loved it, those cats can play! Saron has a big B.B. King vibe to his playing, and is an excellent showman. The other guitarist has more of a "modern" blues style, and they both worked well together-playing off of each other and whatnot. Scottie, of course, is a badass drummer. The one thing that got me through the set was my familiarity with Scott's style, since we've done a lot of gigs together.

So, I made it through the first set. I bought myself a congratulatory $6.00 beer, and hung out "backstage." Only one set to go... or so I thought. It turns out we had to play three sets, up until 3:30am! Two one and a half hour sets, and a final, one hour set. Fuck, that's a lot of playing! Nuthin' Fancy doesn't play that long, and those bastards play a bunch!

Sets two and three were pretty much the same as set one-a lot of 12-bar blues, shuffles, and the like. There was a song in set two that wasn't a traditional blues tune, and I got to show off a bit. Saron was introducing the band while we were holding down the groove. When he introduced the guitarist, the cat played a little riff, then he called out Scottie, who threw down a drum fill or two. When he got to me, he said something like "This is Shawn, its his first time playing with us, I don't know his last name." I'm sorry, but HENDRICKS is a pretty fucking easy name to remember (especially considering Scott told him my last name five or seven times!). So, when he said that, I broke out of the established bass line and soloed a bit. A measure and a half into it, Saron says "Bring it back (meaning-'stop that shit, and stick to the bassline')," and the crowd starts applauding my solo, at which point he says "Nah, that sounds good, keep playing." So I take a few more measures to "do my thing." Ha-ha, the white boy can play!

The only other time I got to show off a bit was during the last song of the last set. Saron decided to play "Sex Machine," and if you don't know whose song that is, you're even whiter than I am. We broke it down to just the drums, then Saron signaled me to start up the groove again. I didn't. There was still a large, drunken, rowdy crowd, and I wanted a little glory. I dropped into a bass solo. I figured, fuck it, Saron doesn't dig me. I'll probably never get the call to play with these guys again. I had to play two hours longer than I was originally told. I missed out on a good keg party one mile from my house for this (hey, Mary Pat), I'm goin' for mine. I pulled out all of my little bass tricks, even Alan's favorite-the two-handed slide. Thankfully (luckily?), the crowd loved it. Saron even actually seemed to dig it. Maybe I'm wrong. Actually, I'm probably wrong, he probably hated it, but I don't give a fuck. The crowd liked it. Hooray for me! As a matter of fact, when I left the club to get my car, there were a few folks out on the street who had been at the gig, and they applauded me! It felt really good to get a little love after the inital "cold shoulder" Saron had given me.

That was it. We finished up at 3:30am, packed up, and headed back to good ol' New Jersey. We each ended up getting a few extra dollars for the night. Saron shook my hand, but I don't expect any calls for future gigs. I played well, but I think I ruined the "authenticity" of Saron's blues band by being a tall, white cracker. Oh well, it was definitely a gig I won't soon forget. I need to call Scott and thank him for the opportunity to play a show so far removed from my usual gigs. I'm a better musician (or "musician") for the experience.

I know this was very long, and probably boring, but I don't give a fuck. Nobody told you to read the whole thing. Its not like there's going to be a quiz or anything. Seriously, if you have read this whole thing, thanks. I just felt like writing tonight...

Shawn HENDRICKS!!!
May 5th, 2003
2:28am