Gig Report

What do you know, it turns out some people actually read this shitty blog! In fact, several folks have asked me for a full gig report about my Pushed shows so far. Are your lives that empty? I kid, I kid, you know I love the attention. MY life is that empty.

Where to begin? I got to Pub 46 early on Thursday and had a burger. Good food! I wasn't nervous about the gig, I don't actually ever get nervous about anything anymore. I fear my senses and emotions have been dulled by years of drug abuse. I think a more accurate word for what I felt was "wary." I knew I wasn't 100% on many of the songs, and I wanted to make sure my fuck-ups were minimal. Not because I actually care about performing covers, but for my own peace of mind. I pride myself on being a "quick study," and I mostly didn't want to disappoint myself. Selfish? Yup. In truth, I also wanted to impress the band with my performance. I know I can't/don't want to join Pushed, since Quick Kill Formula is my number one priority, but I still wanted them to want me to join ("I want you to want me"). Again, I am indeed a selfish fuck.

Anyway, it turns out most of the songs I didn't know so well were in the first set. In a way, that was bad, since I wasn't "warmed up," and I had no idea what kind of crowd there was going to be. On the other hand, it was a good thing, since I got to get those tunes out of the way early, and traditionally, the most people are at any gig during the second set.

Out of the thirteen songs played in the first set, I was unfamiliar with about five. I had some "cheat sheet" chord charts scribbled down on little pieces of paper at my feet, but it's considered bad form to stare down at your toes during a live performance. So, I was pretty much watching the guitarist's hands and winging it.

There were definitely some "jazz notes" played during those tunes, but the rest of the band didn't seem to notice. Except for the singer. After the set, he said something like "I guess you need to brush up on a few of those songs." He said it jovially enough, but I could sense mild concern beneath his tone. Time for Wild Turkey!

The rest of the band was drinking Yager, and the bartender actually shook my hand when I ordered my bourbon. He told me I had just earned his respect. Well, that's at least one person on my team.

Now I had twenty or so minutes to kill before the next set. I quickly reviewed my notes, had another shot, and then sat uncomfortably alone at the bar for, I don't know, eighteen minutes or so. The guys in the band seemed to know almost everyone at The Pub, and were busy "schmoozing." None of them were inclined to introduce me to anyone, and I tend to be a bit quiet and shy amongst strangers (it's true! fuck off!), so the cheese stood alone. I don't blame the guys for not including me in their conversations. I'm just a hired gun, and an adult at that, I don't need to be led around by the hand. But, goddamn, I was bored!

The only interaction I had was when some chick came up and complimented me on my performance. I was going to thank her until she told me I wasn't smiling enough on stage. I started laughing, and told her it's hard to remember to smile when you're trying to remember what chord/part/verse/bridge/chorus/etc. comes next in the song you're playing! Especially when it's a song you've just heard for the first time two days earlier. She was empathetic, and bought me a shot.

Sets two and three went much better, except for when a bunch of chicks were dancing on stage with the band. Don't get me wrong, having some hot girl grind up against you while you play is Big Fun. The problem was, she was standing on my cheat sheet during a song I barely knew. There I was, playing, dancing with this chick, trying to (gently) slide her to the left so I could see my notes, all the while trying to remember to smile. That's how silly my life is.

Before I knew it, the gig was over. I got my money, said my farewells, and headed home. I wasn't sure what the band had thought of my performance. They all told me I did a great job, but, I knew I could've done better. I felt I really had to prove myself at the next gig, only two days away...

In Part II- Does Shawn indeed prove himself at The Junkyard gig, or does he fuck it all up?