I’ll be late posting this blog because, despite my insistence, I am currently texting another musician who has taken a hiatus from his successful working band Wood ‘n Steel Revival and we are in the embryonic stages of forming yet another band.
I know, I know…
My short-lived awesome little band Sedona we had dissolved faster than it took to put the band together.
So now the process begins.
He just sent me a ton of videos of his band in performances, and I am probably looking at too much for me, if I am going to be honest with myself.
They were a working band that toured for six months out of the year and evidently, had quite the fanbase pre-Covid.
I am not worried if I still have the vocal chops; I do, and my guitar playing has gotten better, too.
But fronting a touring band and fronting a local club-playing band are two way different animals.
Don’t get me wrong; I will probably give my own mortality the finger once again and give it one last shot because there is something, I can’t define it, but when you are on a stage in front of a large audience and that first power “E” chord pops, you feel it in your balls.
In a good way.
But I am also quick to draw the line when I perceive fun to become work.
When you are retired, you don’t use the “w” word.
A lot of people think, “What’s the issue? You’re playing music and singing and getting paid for it?”
Yeah, piece of cake.
When you factor in daily at-home practices, bi-and tri-weekly studio practices, performing two and three times per week and traveling to different cities, and all that entails, man I really have to think long and hard about if I still have the juice and spunk to pull off one last go-round.
I guess the elephant in the room is my heart which required eight stents to keep me alive, and the fact I am seventy with one leg.
I didn’t even factor in the time I need to write new music and develop it and arrange it for the band.
Dude, seriously?
I mean, I will keep you posted obviously.
Wish me luck on one last go-round…
Or not.
I will be hosting an adoption event for the Humane Society of Greater Dayton in August, after which, I will go out to visit my family in California for a week. Karen will stay at home with the two doggie-children just as will I when she goes to visit her sister on the East coast in October.
Getting back to whether I am nuts or not, I think the jury is still out on that one.
I love the warmer weather of summer which will soon give way to oppressive, humid heat.
But, it is a balmy 74 degrees here at my computer, so I’m good, thank you.
I do love nuts, though.
Salted cashews are in mortal danger in my presence.
Peanuts.
Almonds.
Brazil Nuts.
Baklava. Chock full of finely chopped nuts.
Now we’re talking.
And just don’t get me started on lightly salted macadamia nuts.
Stay well.
