Humbling moments

Periodically, those closest to me want to make sure my ego is not growing out of proportion with my success. Let me reassure them, however, that even as I enjoy forward momentum as a musician, there are moments that keep me grounded. Such as:

--The gig where the only compliment I get is that I played the triangle well (I only play it on one song, Edu Lobo's Ponteio).

--Between sets, a woman says she was looking at me and thinking, "I wonder if that's how I'll look when I get older?" Later she adds, "I also was noticing your hair, because my hair kind of does that crazy look too if I let it."

--Before another gig a woman says, "You look like the singer." "Yep," I replied. "Well," she snarls, "you better sing well!"

--The gig that ends with the bartender yelling "Give it a rest already!"

--I sell my CD to a guy and he's pretty drunk and later I heard him fighting with someone at the bar. Drunks make me sad.

It was raining incredibly hard last night as I drove to my gig in the city, which was well attended, about 130 people despite the Oscars and it being a Sunday night. On the way, I was dreading that no one would be there because of the weather, and doing the poor-me internal monologue about how inconvenient the rain was. Then I thought, "Tsunami. Now THAT's inconvenient."

Oh, and we did nail that crazy beautiful bridge section in All Blues after all.

Anyway, I can't complain. "It's getting better all the ti-i-ime. Bettah, bettah, bettah..." I mean, I'm not doing singing telegrams anymore, or singing while dressed as a Renaissance wench, or being rejected in auditions, or singing chamber music that I like but don't love, or singing on boats or in malls. Let me tell you, boats (not cruise ships--I mean ferries or yachts) are not a good place for a gig. Noisy, fumy, and if it's nighttime, mostly filled with drunk business folks.