Yesterday was the first time I played in a show where the combined ages of the opening band was less than my own. The band, "THC", which stands for "The Hess Collaboration", is aptly named in every sense of the word. They are a three piece ranging in age from 15 to 17 that fuse reggae and blues-rock to create a really cool sound. I was playing in a band whose combined ages exceed the 8,000 plus years that literal believers of biblical texts think life has existed on this planet. It was like The Little Rascals meets Grumpy Old Men.
I couldn't help watching those kids without envying that they could probably extricate themselves from chairs without groaning from the strain. They were also in the enviable position of having a human audience whose total number exceeded the number of carved pumpkins made in an earlier pumpkin carving contest. The same could not be said for us. We had more pumpkins than people, but since we look more like pumpkins than people, I guess it's only fair. The audience we did have was vocal and appreciative, although they were also our age, so they probably found it too difficult to escape from the confines of their chairs.
The Old Man Band had not played together for at least a year prior to yesterday's gig, with the exception of three songs recorded a few months ago. As a consequence, Jonathan, the founder of the band and the guy putting on yesterdays show, wanted to practice. That was understandable enough, so I drove up the night before only to have the practice come to a screeching halt three quarters through the first song after the PA head fell off its shelf five feet down onto the cement floor. This put an end to the practice for Jonathan primarily wanted to practice his vocals. However, it did prove my long held belief that a PA's performance would not be enhanced by falls of five feet onto cement floors.
The THC band and their friends were camped in the lot in back of Jonathan's house where they had a fire burning in a pit and were having a hell of a good time being young. Watching their goings on was funny enough to make up for the fact that I was going to have to sleep on a couch instead of my own bed for the sake of having a practice, which lasted only three quarters of one song.
Since we were not due to play on Saturday until 3:00 PM, I had plenty of time that morning to relax, read, and drive around. I took a drive to the Eel River, which took me through assorted winding mountain roads. I started to get a weird feeling as I passed McCain – Palin sign after McCain – Palin sign, but it was not until I wound up at a Bible College that I figured it was best to turn around. I don't mind being considered a musical dinosaur, but anyone foolish enough to believe that dinosaurs lived side by side with man might mistake me for an actual one.
