Post 2287
- 8 years and 177 days since I started this blog -
Daily Comment
I had been playing bass for about four years when I went to my first jam session. Luckily, I knew the first song I was asked to sit in on, and it went on for a while. I felt great, connecting with some new musicians, and fell in love with the sense of spontaneity and ensemble creation.
The next song was a train-wreck, and I had no idea what went wrong. It seemed like nobody knew anything, nobody was listening to me, or anybody else playing, and it was embarrassing.
Over the years, as I got more and more into jazz - as a listener, not a player - I went to many more jam sessions, and came to cherish (and learn from) the mix of players, ability, knowledge, and education that accompanies every one.
Outside of a couple of long-term band gigs and some studio work, during my first dozen years as a bass player, jam sessions provided the majority of my playing time.
Then I went to work for IBM in Dutchess County, sixty miles North of New York City, and pretty much stopped playing regularly, then I started a family and in short order, moved to North Carolina, and stopped playing entirely.
When I decided to get back in (interesting story from another time), just over twenty years ago, and after an absence of sixteen years, I looked for jam sessions to find my way back to the music.
The long retreat from music did me good - subconsciously, I was imagining, 'visualizing' playing all that time.
Visualizing is a potent learning and practicing tool. I came back to bass-playing with some changes in style and intent, and with much better listening skills.
Unlike where I left my previous scene, I was starting fresh in a new scene, and there were some Rip Van Winkle moments. For one, a lot of the jams were being called open mics.
During this period in North Carolina, I found a lot of people to play with, in and out of open mics. I was in several bands, groups, casual get-togethers, growing out of a developing reputation as an excellent jammer.
The ear-training I developed listening and not playing all those years allowed me to be very nimble accompanying people at the open mics, and I became known for playing any style of music.
But more so, was something that had gone completely over my head, as focused as I was on the music I was making. At one outing, someone who knew me only from school activities saw me playing and told me I should do it all the time: They had never seen me happier.
I began to relax and enjoy the playing more. I realized that not playing had contributed to the general depression, unhappiness and dissatisfaction that characterized my life in North Carolina.
I realized playing made me happy.
When I moved to Syracuse eleven years ago, I had only one good friend until I started going to open mics (they were always called open mics in Syracuse). The people I met there formed my entire social network. That hasn't changed much. Open mics are still the backbone of my social life, and pretty much all of my music-making as I write this.
After my initial, very first step into Rooters, the first open mic I went to, things mushroomed. I started going out more and more often, until I was playing at open mics four, sometimes five nights a week.
One of the hosts early on put out an email letter in which he credited the players that came out. He gave me the nickname Reverend Ken (for the unusual Reverend bass I played) and it immediately stuck, and caught on, and became a brand.
And as a popular supporter of the open mic scene for all this time, I found a place in the Syracuse music community, which I cherish. I can honestly say that everything good that's happened to me here I owe directly and indirectly to my going to open mics.
I've had so much fun, and playing is such an integral part of my happiness for the last seven years, it is the reason I'm still here (at least, nine months of the year.
Every night out at an open mic is an adventure. Tonight, I went to two open mics and connected with one of my favorite players for an excellent jam at the first one, only to play all night, as a guitarist was doubling on bass, and invited me to fill the chair. That meant playing not just a set of my own, but on four other sets.
My idea of fun and a perfect night out! I'm so grateful.
Food and Diet
The next song was a train-wreck, and I had no idea what went wrong. It seemed like nobody knew anything, nobody was listening to me, or anybody else playing, and it was embarrassing.
Over the years, as I got more and more into jazz - as a listener, not a player - I went to many more jam sessions, and came to cherish (and learn from) the mix of players, ability, knowledge, and education that accompanies every one.
Outside of a couple of long-term band gigs and some studio work, during my first dozen years as a bass player, jam sessions provided the majority of my playing time.
Then I went to work for IBM in Dutchess County, sixty miles North of New York City, and pretty much stopped playing regularly, then I started a family and in short order, moved to North Carolina, and stopped playing entirely.
When I decided to get back in (interesting story from another time), just over twenty years ago, and after an absence of sixteen years, I looked for jam sessions to find my way back to the music.
The long retreat from music did me good - subconsciously, I was imagining, 'visualizing' playing all that time.
Visualizing is a potent learning and practicing tool. I came back to bass-playing with some changes in style and intent, and with much better listening skills.
Unlike where I left my previous scene, I was starting fresh in a new scene, and there were some Rip Van Winkle moments. For one, a lot of the jams were being called open mics.
During this period in North Carolina, I found a lot of people to play with, in and out of open mics. I was in several bands, groups, casual get-togethers, growing out of a developing reputation as an excellent jammer.
The ear-training I developed listening and not playing all those years allowed me to be very nimble accompanying people at the open mics, and I became known for playing any style of music.
But more so, was something that had gone completely over my head, as focused as I was on the music I was making. At one outing, someone who knew me only from school activities saw me playing and told me I should do it all the time: They had never seen me happier.
I began to relax and enjoy the playing more. I realized that not playing had contributed to the general depression, unhappiness and dissatisfaction that characterized my life in North Carolina.
I realized playing made me happy.
When I moved to Syracuse eleven years ago, I had only one good friend until I started going to open mics (they were always called open mics in Syracuse). The people I met there formed my entire social network. That hasn't changed much. Open mics are still the backbone of my social life, and pretty much all of my music-making as I write this.
After my initial, very first step into Rooters, the first open mic I went to, things mushroomed. I started going out more and more often, until I was playing at open mics four, sometimes five nights a week.
One of the hosts early on put out an email letter in which he credited the players that came out. He gave me the nickname Reverend Ken (for the unusual Reverend bass I played) and it immediately stuck, and caught on, and became a brand.
And as a popular supporter of the open mic scene for all this time, I found a place in the Syracuse music community, which I cherish. I can honestly say that everything good that's happened to me here I owe directly and indirectly to my going to open mics.
I've had so much fun, and playing is such an integral part of my happiness for the last seven years, it is the reason I'm still here (at least, nine months of the year.
Every night out at an open mic is an adventure. Tonight, I went to two open mics and connected with one of my favorite players for an excellent jam at the first one, only to play all night, as a guitarist was doubling on bass, and invited me to fill the chair. That meant playing not just a set of my own, but on four other sets.
My idea of fun and a perfect night out! I'm so grateful.
Today's Weight: 199.9 lbs.
Previous Weight (6/24/19): 199.2 lbs.
Net Loss/Gain: + 0.7 lbs.
Diet Comment
Food Log
Breakfast
4:45pm: Salmon burger with guacamole and riced cauliflower in butter sauce.
Lunch
7:30pm: A Quest bar.
Dinner
12:05am: Manchego cheese and walnuts, and cottage cheese and a Quest bar.
Liquid Intake
4:45pm: Salmon burger with guacamole and riced cauliflower in butter sauce.
Lunch
7:30pm: A Quest bar.
Dinner
12:05am: Manchego cheese and walnuts, and cottage cheese and a Quest bar.
Liquid Intake
Espressos: 2; Coffee: 0 oz.; Water: 48+ oz.; A shot of Jameson Irish Whiskey, and a shot of Piper 12-year old Irish whiskey.
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