They gather in clusters around tiny tables on soaring stools. You find them belly busting at the bar, shoring walls, and idling in the aisle waysthe people who leave the coziness of their living rooms, and head out into the night in search of music and camaraderie: Rock Fans. Sure they have a plethora of website concerts streaming their desktops, and cable channels of Rock, hip-hop, and good ol country, but theyll come out in the rain to be a part of a live scene.
Today its just me up there on stage, looking out into the smoky lights. I know how many silhouettes are out there. Lots of em. Its my charge to elicit a state change in them, or else their journey is for nothing. Ive got play that perfect note, to the perfect rhythm; any sound at all that comes forth from this stage must be true, and come from me and only from me; not a cheep imitation of someone else. They can sense that which is authenticthey may not have properly considered this before, but deep down the y know. Oh yes they will know.
Time warps. I see shadows moving in slow motion; no one connected with my production is moving fast enough for me. The sound check makes getting anyones attention that much more difficult. They are all somewhere else right now. My first task is to round em all back up. Where are they? Somewhere between gender tension, and release of inhibitions I suppose. I want them back as an audience though. And I will have that.
First song fires off and I see people glance up. The sound is weird. Its not coming from me as much as it is coming from somewhere off to the side. Thats ok. Caught a fleeting glimpse of some bopping heads, and covert toe-tapping in the darkness. They begin to suspect that everyone in the room is part of something bigger than the sum of its players.
My next shot is going to be deadly accurate. I decide upon a Blues Shuffle. My bass string begins with a heartbeat. Bum-pa-bum-pa-bum-pa-bum. I see them looking up now . Heads begin bopping and several women are swinging their hips. Feet tap out seconds on the clock. Good sign indeed. But wait until I start hammering the six string, and ease that Blues harp inyou havent heard anything yet! And then the harp begins wailing its woes. Telling its tragic tale, while the conversation fades into the darkness. I know they are somewhere out there staring like deer in the headlights. Gonna get you now. Some people rise to their feet when I belt out the growley g-man voice. Boom Boom Boom Boom. Mr. John Lee Hooker knew this.
This was his science lab.
The song builds and people begin to gape. They are in the net now, and many are wriggling like salmon on the deck. Sit back, relax, and let the Blues carry you down stream.
Copyright (c) 2005 Gary Wesselhoff
Gary g-man Wesselhoff is an Acoustic Blues Writer/performer woking the Chicago Metro area. You can contact him at: Gman@GmanBlues.com
Please Visit my site: http://www.GmanBlues.com
Author:: Gary Wesselhoff
Keywords:: Blues, Rock, Acoustic, Live Perfromances, Singer, Writer, Gman, Gman Blues
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