On My Way to a New Gig
On my way to a new gig
The club owner sounds like a good dude
Said he was a big fan of Bird and Diz
I think this will be all good
But wait, this band don’t play any jazz
What was I thinking?
I just figured out a Ska version of Hot Rod Lincoln
Just another case of me trying to pound a round musical peg into a square physical
hole
Pull up in front of the joint, no parking of course
Guess I’ll have to move my rig around that steamy pyramid left by some Mounties horse.
Walk in, the place is empty except for a couple ordering dinner in the place where the band is supposed to set up in
Where’s the owner? That cool dude from the phone
The waiter said he’s out and then I heard him whisper “maricon”
I asked the anorexic looking waitress where I could leave my gear
She said “I don’t think were having music tonight”
“you better see Pearl the bartender
a former NFL draftee of questionable gender
I walk over and she (I think) she says “you must be Tony”
I said in my best Brooklyn affect “close, its Joey Leone”
And for some unfathomable reason extended my hand for a shake…………
Big Mistake
He (ah I think) he looks at me like I was from Mars
Just as my drummer walks up to the bar
with more f-ing equipment that the 101st Airborne in Panama
This is getting really ugly now
I’m thinking this is probably going to be the one friggin night that the band gets here on time.
Gazing down the empty bar I see my lush of a saxman polishing off his third red wine.
He says hey Tony I got here early after paying my rent
Been hanging out with Pearlie………oh great!
Hence the Tony comment.
Now here comes the owner through the door
I knew it was him when I heard the latino waiter mutter “Maricon” once more.
I’m hoping the boys will be impressed with the respect he shows me as he
He looks right at my inebriated sax player and says
“You must be Joey”
Saxman says not a word and points to me
I again extend my hand and say “hi I’m Joey Leone”
He says I hope you guys don’t play too loud
I’ve got a partner who hates music
I said were a six piece band I guess he’ll have to rough it
Then he says “cool, you guys know any Buffet”
My mind drifts back to a time long ago when I was a promising young student making his way up the academic ranks
My dad bought me a Harvard football jersey
And I was the student du jour around the old water tank
But I started smoking weed and playing rock and roll
In disgust punted my English book down a sewer hole.
So here I am in limbo in my own musical hell as Pearl awakens me from my stupor and says
“you just got a call Tony… your bass players in jail”