After the joys of full band rompin’ with Fells Point Fun Fest I was more than willing to have a stripped down, just-the-two-of-us weekend. The Mount Airy Oktoberfest had booked us several years ago, got canceled last year, got rained out last month, and today finally it’s come together – nearly rained out again – we played in the cold with a wee bit of drizzle – but the sun eventually came out and we reveled in really, really fantastic food truck burgers. We spent the day bumming around the festival, then mooching around a favourite coffeehouse, before playing a bar gig in Westminster that turned into a riotously good time by the second half (and perhaps not coincidentally, the second whiskey).
I remember, growing up, my mother giving me words of wisdom like “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all”. And I tried to stick to that, if only so as not to upset my mother. Years later, I certainly learned the joys of catty viciousness and petty rivalries, but I’ve always tried not to give in TOO much to it. Because I’m the Ever Supportive Open Mic host I think I surprise people sometimes with how hateful I can be. It stems from bitterness that I’m trying to swallow. Push back. Be bigger than.
And I think in trying to best my bitterness, I’ve grown a whole OTHER tier to it all, bitterness over others’ bitterness. Hatred of other’s hatred, even though I’m pretty hateful. Sour on sour grapes, grumpy at grumpiness.
I think this whole week has been an excercise in poor scheduling and worse sleep. Somehow it feels like I’m STILL playing catch up from last week, when getting up far too early left me discombobulated and disfunctional for a day, which left me unable to sleep because I had a bad day, which left me discombobulated and dysfunctional for ANOTHER day – AND a day behind! Please compound as appropriate.
Autumn snuck up on me and I’d like to bask in it, but there’s no time. There will be an immense drive up to Canada and back, but not enough time to celebrate it. Foliage at speed.
Still, the air is suddenly ideal. Even 24 hours ago it was humid and dog’s breath warm (as opposed to dog’s mouth hot), but today suddenly leaves are falling on the highways and side streets, the townsfolk have blossomed in Halloween decorations and broken out in skeletons and pumpkins. I’m in the mood for this. Bring it unto me. I need this. I need to decompress. I could otherwise simply implode.
The last two festivals we’ve played have been decidedly uneven. Crowds dug us, but organization left something to be desired. Whether it was the sound crew that hadn’t bothered to read our tech in advance (even claiming that we didn’t send it before saying “oh! here it is”) or the parking cop who wouldn’t let us into the parking lot without our parking pass which we were supposed to pick up IN the parking lot or the surprise traditional-garb German dance contest that happened not during the next band’s sound check but rather during what was supposed to be the first 40 minutes of their show – just nothing seemed to run as planned.
Still – in Fells Point we were ferocious, if somewhat overheated and frustrated. And in Mount Airy we were joyous, if somewhat soggy. In my self-betterment mission of less bitterness, I think if I’d learned the lesson long, long, long ago to bring my own speaker for my guitar to make myself completely deaf to what sound techs were doing to it, I think that’d go a long way towards bringing me further into an “ignorance is bliss” type of satisfaction with the world, at least as it pertains to “professional” sound production.
And then I could spend more time basking.
