Monday night's CD release party for Wayne's The Reckless Search for Beauty went well. Sound was tricky, which surprised me--it had actually seemed easier to do sound for El Balajo, the 19-piece latin jazz orchestra with which I've played Yoshi's twice now. They told me it was because of the number of open mics--specifically, vocal mics for Orlando, Kat, Sheryl, Ron and me. We were initially turned up loud and on the verge of feeding back, but we couldn't hear each other. Interestingly, the unison parts were the hardest to do. Of course, this is all during soundcheck. Once the show was on, things were vastly improved, and the very kind sound people checked with me to see if I could hear myself.
I felt good about my solos, especially Use Me, which we did once in each set. At the rehearsal a few days prior, Wayne had told me I needed to sing it
exactly as I'd recorded it, so as not to throw the band or coro off. Well, that was quite an assignment, as it turned out. Normally, you want to do the opposite--improvise and do new things so that it doesn't seem rote. After the rehearsal, I went home and did something I'd never done before: I sat and listed to Use Me on iTunes for two hours and simultaneously wrote a verbal "chart" to it (I didn't have a piano chart to it) something like this:
Percussion intro 4 bars.
Horn lines 16 bars.
Break--vocal: "Asi es!"
and so on for five pages. It was an extremely useful exercise and in fact I did nail it, twice, in performance. Now, the second time I had to do it that night, I thought I should change a few things up--I mean, some of the same people were in the audience from the first show. I did a few things, switched up some of the spoken cues, and I think it all worked great. I also set it up with an intro to the audience that I'm still cracking myself up over. Hope if/when I see the video I'm not horrified by what I said. Basically, Wayne had just finished his shpiel about how his arrangement of Use Me blended funk and timba/salsa. I nudged him and asked if I could say a few words.
I think what I said was that my mother did not approve of this song when she heard it, but that I approached the lyrics metaphorically, and that it described a relationship (someone using someone else) that was similar to that which many artists have with their instrument. You feel used and walked all over, but then there's that moment where you go "baby, baby, I can't get enough!" Everyone laughed and Ron Stallings over on sax goes "Gotta wipe my glasses. They just steamed up," and Louis Fasman holds his trumpet out and examines it as if to say "I never thought of my instrument that way" and Michael Spiro on congas goes "And now the gig begins!" And this time, when I sang it, I really felt it. Of course, performing it a few dozen times rather than just twice will certainly make it even better, but I'm pretty proud of it.
I didn't get too much feedback after the show, but a woman came up to me at the break. I had noticed her gazing up at me with rapt attention--almost as if she were mesmerized--from the front row during the first show.
"I just wanted to compliment you," she says. I smile expectantly. "You know, that pendant you're wearing is just so gorgeous. I don't know if you know this, but the way it captures the lights while you're on stage is wonderful."
"No, no, I didn't know that," I reply wanly.
"Oh yes, sometimes it shines pink, or green, or gold. It's just beautiful and I just wanted to let you know that I really admire your pendant."
So there it is. I changed a life Monday night through my artful choice of attire.
