One Door Closes...

And another one opens. That is the way of things; the way of the Force. And it is also the way of a gigging musician.

This weekend marked the final performance of the Savoys -- at least for the 2005-2006 season. For those who managed to drop by one of our performances over the past fall and winter, on behalf of all bandmates, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. If it wasn't for your support, for your kind words, for the drinks you bought us, or for your applause, we wouldn't be where we are today. We gig because we love performing; we gig because we love the attention; we gig because we love you all. It is one of the best highs in the world -- to be recognized and to be appreciated.

Our last three performances were at the Cecil Hotel. This was not the first time I had the pleasure of working at the Cecil. If my memory serves me correctly, I played there last year.
The Cecil is the kind of place that nearly anything can happen, and there were definitely moments when I thought I had seen it all, only to realize moments later that I was only naive to think so.

Take for instance, Friday night. It may have been after midnight, but for all intents and purposes the time it happened is irrelevant. There was a couple at the bar, for what appeared to be spending a romantic evening out. From my vantage point, which happened to be a stage at the far end of the bar, it appeared that they were in their early to mid twenties. I didn't think they were too drunk, but I soon found my estimations to be incorrect.

We were well into our performance, filling the bar with old-school blues when this old Cougar decided to look for some prey. When I say Cougar, I mean it. It was obvious that she had been around the block a few dozen times. She had to be in her mid to late fifties -- her hair was fried from home perms, and had the brownish-grey tinge of mouse fur. Her face had been wrinkled from too many cigarettes and hard nights. I don't even recall what she was wearing; she was unsightly; repulsive.

And apparently, quite horny.

The male half of our young, cute couple must have had a great deal to drink. The cougar caught sight of him and somehow convinced him to dance with her. I am unsure if his date for the evening had any say, as I didn't take notice until later. Now the age spread between the two was noticeable, she easily was old enough to be his mother -- which I first took notice when the two of them took to the dance floor.

It only took a minute or so until the Cougar went in for the kill. All I saw was the beautiful, young blonde who accompanied the prey to the bar, throw a fit, and march up to the dancing couple. The cougar was in the process of inspecting the young male's tonsils with her tongue. The young blonde pushed the two of them apart, and proceeded to beat the piss out of her date.

The cougar seemed indifferent to the violent exchange between the two -- even though the blame so clearly fell on her shoulders. After standing on the dance floor, alone for a few minutes, she sauntered to the seating area, presumably to ensnare another victim.

I didn't see what happened to the young couple, but I am sure their relationship was seriously damaged afterwards. I have such a hard time believing that the guy couldn't see what he was kissing. If she tried anything like that with me, she would have been pushed away and abandoned before she could use her tongue for anything more than speaking.

All I can think is that the beer goggles he was wearing must have had an awfully strong prescription that night.

The final gig is the one where emotions run high. I have a tendency to get a little emotional nearing the end of the last performance, but Saturdays' gig didn't end with the shedding of a couple tears like I had expected. Part of that may be attributed to the fact that I kept my alcohol consumption in check, as I had to transport all my gear home.

From the opening notes of the first song Saturday night, I knew it was going to be a magical performance. Everything began to click. The band melded into the most solid groove we ever had. I soon became amazed at the consistency of our performance. We were playing on a lever that we had never achieved before. The solos were spectacular, the groove was deep and solid, and the time never wavered.

As far as my drumming was concerned, I believe it was the best playing I have ever done in front of an audience.

And the only thing that bothered me about this fact was that the bar patrons were completely indifferent to our presence. They likely cared less what material we played -- in fact I wondered if they cared that we were even there at all.

The Cecil is the bar in town that likely has the cheapest alcohol prices. That being said, it attracts crowds of the lowest common denominator: problem drinkers. These are the people that binge until they can no longer stand, or speak with an ounce of coherency. They might as well be wallowing in their own urine, and if they were, they likely wouldn't care. Fights occur frequently, which is amplified by the factors that the bartenders don't cut anyone off, nor do they keep bouncers on staff. In such places, I do my best to keep to myself, avoid eye contact, and stay out of the way.

I am a little saddened that the Savoys will not perform again for six months, but the hiatus comes at the most convenient of times. I can now dedicate more time to my students, which will be performing in a recital situation within a months' time. The Best of Broadway reprise will be taking place in a month, and there are a number of rehearsals I will have to attend for that show. Lastly, but not least, this will allow MA and I to begin collaborating again and put together our Classic Rock act. The next few months are going to be very busy.

I said this last year, and I am going to say it again: When the Hell am I going to do my taxes?