the blessings of playing in a band...

One of the deep joys of moving out of full-time pastoral ministry has been the chance to make music with my band-mates in Famous Before We're Dead. Not that we didn't create and share music while I was in the church. We did. Boldly. Regularly. As a way of prayer and community building. But now I have both the time and freedom to go even deeper. This picture speaks volumes about why this matters to me: there is abandon into the groove, concentration on my notes as well as how they strengthen the group's sound, all experienced in real time. As Wynton Marsalis has said: On the bandstand with musicians you love and trust, you are completely absorbed in the movement of the song even as you work to listen carefully to the surprises that always arrive and celebrate what the other players are creating, too. It is an embodied prayer as well as something cosmic.

Last night was the first time we've played under optimum circumstances: a sound man worked the PA board, we had played the day before and knew what to watch out for re: possible mistakes, we were focused and psyched, the room was filled with people who love music, we were close enough to hear and communicate with one another. And, we understood this was the moment to stand and deliver. The gig was part of the prize Hal and I won at Infinity Music Hall earlier in the year: an opportunity to play live in the Bistro. The owner of the club was present. So were a few recording engineers. We needed to bring the magic together in a way that satisfied the crowd - especially those outside our circle of friends - even as we showed the professionals what we could bring to the table. And, thanks be to God, it happened. There are still things to work on, to be sure, but there were sublime moments as well - and tons of fun.

One of the highlights for me was when the sound man said, "I want to be a part of this band!" It was that much fun. Tomorrow at band practice I am certain Hal and I will dissect the evening in detail. It needs to be done to keep the music alive. But this is moving in the right direction. As one of the players said: It was inspiring to be a part of this tonight. He was right. It was a gas.Three personal insights came to me this morning as I pondered what the whole groove meant. 

+ First, playing original music matters. In a "listening room" (as opposed to a bar) people are willing to take a risk on substance. The music must still be entertaining and accessible. Beautiful, too. But if the audience makes the effort to leave their homes and enter a club, it means they are open to new sounds and insights. Our songs need to tell stories: they must take individuals into a place of love as well as challenge by way of invitation. One of the truths I have experienced at "open mics" is that some players have a lot of passion, talent and conviction, but they beat the audience over the head with heavy-handed messages that are simply exhausting. Sharing original music requires finesse, poetry and humility. Lots of practice, too because our new songs must sound every bit as polished as the songs we buy on ITunes.

+ Second, each song - whether an original or a cover - must be so well practiced that it can be moved in the set list according to the mood of the room. Last night, some on the spot substitutions were called. This reflected both the feel of the room as well as the energy of the band. They were the right calls, too but required seamless shifting of instruments and focus. The band leader needs to be attuned to the crowd even as he/she takes the pulse of the musicians on the bandstand. Slipping in an unexpected, self-deprecating blues in the middle of our first set was a brilliant deviation - and each of the players rose to the occasion. There was trust taking place mixed with expertise, a willingness to take some well-calculated risks alongside the awareness that the band was capable of rising to the moment. I've played some gigs where such changes were needed, but the leader didn't feel the arc of the groove. So rather than build excitement, the song substitutions killed the room's energy. It was gratifying to me to see the polar opposite take place at Infinity as one led us deeper. Or as Sly used to say: "I want to take you higher!"

+ And third, I suspect we still need to find a few more popular cover tunes that we love as a band that can help us keep the audience fully engaged.  I was convinced of this when we brought a late addition, Bob Marley's "Stir It Up," into the mix. Not only did those who knew the song sing out with vigor, but even those unfamiliar with the 1972 classic reggae song were moving and shaking their booties. Even the little children got it - and that made their parents believers, too.  We are committed to doing interesting songs - no rehashing "Freebird" or "Amy" for us - but one or two really fun and reasonably well known covers might bring a whole other layer of engagement. Its a fine balancing act and I suspect we'll play with this over the next few months.

One closing thought: playing live is so satisfying to me both for the joy and beauty we create together in these trying times, but also because it puts us in relationship to people we don't already know. Bards and story-tellers have always been the carriers of hope - and in the age of cynical bullies and political hacks, people are aching for a sign of hope. To welcome strangers with song, to lift their spirits and soothe a broken heart, to give a child a sense of wonder in a world saturated with bottom line obsessions is to move onto holy ground. Last night, during the first break, two little budding musicians came forward to look at the instruments. I invited them closer - pluck the strings on this upright bass I said - and it was magic. Owen told me that he wants to become a musician and play the cello. His sister wants to sing. It was confirmation that being there was sacred.

So onward we go. I'l keep you posted for our next gig and maybe you can join us! Blessings abound.