July, 2021
Loyal readers of my weekly scree know of, and are bored sick with, my infatuation with live music. For that reason, I’ve decided to try your patience yet again and subject you to another meandering reminiscence of my performing past. This segment introduces you to a stage eye view of getting to and playing the gig.
Except for large well financed touring bands, the least glamorous part of your average blue collar gig is schlepping your gear from studio, which is usually a spare bedroom or garage if you’re lucky enough to have either, to the venue, be it backyard, bar, or concert stage. To haul my rig I had no big inked up roadie named Haystack. Instead, it was my own back, to which was attached spaghetti noodle arms with mosquito bites for muscles, that hauled my keyboards, amps, and other accessories. Why I ever chose keyboards, and not something sensible like bagpipes, is beyond me. There’s a reason that us keyboard players refer to our chosen instrument as a slab. It’s no wonder I’m now asking the doc for cortisone shots in my shoulder.
Squeezing all this hardware into a Subaru Legacy sedan was like playing Tetris, only heavier. Unloading wasn’t any easier, what with insuring your entire rig was securely stacked on your collapsible cart. Where was Haystack when I needed him?
Getting set up on stage depended on the gig. Sometimes it just involved staying out of standing water, a particular challenge during one gig. Other times it required navigating the stage plot provided to the sound person some weeks earlier, your sole copy of which had been conveniently left behind. For a Legally Blue gig it involved running a special Hammond 11 pin cable to an adapter to convert the cable into a 6 pin cable suitable for plugging into the Model 127 amp mounted inside the Model.760 Leslie rotating speaker cabinet, and then properly surrounding the cabinet with three dedicated microphones. That was just for the organ. The electric piano had its own set of challenges, including proper placement of a midi (musical instrument digital interface – sorry you asked?) cable which enabled me to play the organ from the piano. Imagine my delight when the system actually worked.
Then there were the mishaps occurring during performance. Some electric keyboards panic when you overload their input circuits by playing too fast, letting out a loud, high pitched squeal in protest. During one impassioned solo I pushed an old Kurzweil 1000 over the edge causing it to wail like a banshee, and sending security personnel scurrying to see why the fire alarm had suddenly tripped. I know I shouldn’t be playing so much, but I’m a jazz musician and can’t play five notes when fifty will do.
During a San Jose Jazz Festival gig, my stage monitor decided to accompany our electric jazz with a Chinese radio station. This new form of asian fusion did not amuse the conga player who promptly unplugged the offending monitor eliminating the foreign language, but also my ability to hear myself play. Jim the sound guy came to our rescue by installing a new direct box (don’t ask) so the show could go on without the offending commentary.
Every a show must end to be followed by the least desired part of the process, the breakdown. I like you too much to bore you with this unpleasantry, except to say that it was always a miracle when I returned with all the gear with which I had arrived. Perhaps the biggest miracle was that I was allowed on a stage in the first place!
See you next time.
Embrace The Suck 
Another evocative blog! Next time I’m enjoying a garage band, I will have new respect for all that they went through to show up! Love, Nancy
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All the more reason to be a drummer — no added radio station came through that I could hear! 🙂 Love you – can’t wait to share in the special weekend with you and mom!
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Dear Bob,
I met you at the San José Jazz Festival. (I’m Craig Parada’s wife; Craig worked for Laurel at the City of San José.)
Craig told me about your blog. We are so glad that you are writing it, sharing your great talents as not only as a writer and musician, but also sharing what we’d otherwise never know about what you are feeling as you go through everything related to ALS.
I just read your recent blog about hauling keyboards to a gig. I play upright bass, am less than 5’ tall, and completely relate to those moments that you so well describe. I had a particularly memorable wedding gig once on a sheep farm. The generator we were plugged into exploded and caught fire behind us. We kept playing, as others figured out the solution.
Please know how much we appreciate your writing and your sharing your blog — and appreciate you. We send our best to you and Laurel.
Betsy Stern and Craig Parada
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I never felt more
Like singing the blues
‘Cuz I never thought
That I’d ever lose
Your sound, friend.
You’ve got me singing the blues.
With apologies to Melvin Endsley.
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We are never bored with tales of your musical adventures or the work too. Thanks again Bob for sticking with and sticking everything into the Subaru until, of course, it was you who was being wheeled and packed into a vehicle and a bigger one was required.
Now, if I could only find that famous Tuolumne River photo of you on top of Clavey Falls before you were not, so you could tell that story.
All my best,
Dick
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What we do for love! I’m so glad you got to do such a thrilling thing as making music in front of a live audience, something many dream of but not all get to do. Having heard you and seen you do this once, in your gorgeous white suit in Saratoga, I know how much all those audiences must have loved seeing and hearing you, and how much joy it gave you.
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And it always looked so effortless when we showed up after all your heavy lifting and before the take-down, just enjoying your music with no thought about all this! We will miss you at JazzFest this weekend. I still smile thinking aaout the time we saw you and Katie play together there. We know you will be here in spirit. We can’t keep you away one way or another!
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Bob- you are a wonderful, humorous and colorful writer! Love the images! You were let on the stage because you’re good and deserved it! Keep up the wonderful storytelling! ❤️
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Hi Bob! Sending a smile since I also have a Subaru i overstuff ; however
Not with a musicians equipment as I
Have none of your musical talent. no matter what the genre. Impressive that’s what u are! Also the keyboard
Being moved at least was possible!
Our ancient piano was replaced but
Neither piano was portable! Well done!
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Hey Bob, you can tell by the look on your face how much he loved playing music. Unfortunately I never got to hear you play In person but I’ve had the opportunity to see some clips that you’ve posted on your Facebook page And maybe even on a link here in your blog. I think the first time I met you was when we were in junior high band with Mr. Hines. For some reason I’m thinking you played the saxophone At that time. Always look forward to seeing your next blog keep up the good work 🙂
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Great post about gigs Bob. You’re right tou may have wanted to choose bagpipes or bass clarinet. I didn’t know you played the Hammond or had an old Kurzweil. A band I played with in high school I had a Kurzweil, with a great sound but difficult to move without going out of tune.Hope you get to follow some of the San Jose jazz festival virtually.
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Nice post, Bob. It reminds me a bit of having to carry that big sousaphone case to marching band appearances, and sometimes wishing . That B3 must have been hard to wrangle!
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oops, “. . .sometimes wishing I’d chosen a smaller instrument”
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I could only smile throughout the article. This is entertaining! I miss you.
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Hilarious! I’m now a fellow schlepper, though of large drums. Definitely motivates this middle-aged babe to try to retain some upper body and core strength. Thought of you and Laurel several times during Jazz Fest (sorry–I still have a hard time calling it Summer Fest) this last weekend…special memories of running into you and listening to music with you came flooding back…beautiful!
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So Good to see you on Saturday! Loved meeting all the family and doggie. In your next life, you WILL be a knuckle dragger like me!
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