Retroactive justification for a rare night out

I wasn't supposed to go out Friday night. Too many things to do. So when I drove myself to Frog and Firkin to see a Nobody, et al., a band I'd found on Myspace a few weeks ago, it was with a sense of getting away with something -- playing hooky from real life for a while.

By the time I arrived, F&F's patio was packed to the gills. I parked myself on the steps to the indoor entrance and listened to the band, waiting for a seat. One by one, people at a large circular table began to vacate. I bided my time, rushed the table as the last person left, and reached it just as a party of six women came to claim it. An awkward moment lingered until one of them took pity on me and invited me to join them.

So, in addition to good music, I had fun talking with my tablemates during the break. Susan, the woman who had extended the invitation, thought she recognized me, and we came to the conclusion that she must have seen me at a Cinder Bridge gig. I ended up passing a copy of our CD around, and signed two people in the group up for our mailing list.

I also got to talk to a couple of Nobody, et al. members who, as it turns out, remembered Cinder Bridge from Acoustic Battle of the Bands. I signed one of them up for our list too.

So, yeah. I wasn't blowing off my responsibilities. I was networking and promoting our band. Yeah, that's it!

P.S. The boys in Nobody, et al. sound just as good live as they do recorded. If you live in Tucson, I highly recommend that you check them out.

Rediscovering new music

I discovered these guys while surfing for Tucson bands:

myspace.com/nobodyetal

Nobody, et al. calls themselves folk, but you don't have to be a folkie to appreciate them. You might like them if you're into Iron and Wine -- their stuff has a kind of intensity that you don't expect from slow, guitar-driven music.

When the Myspace player brought up the third song, "Over the Desert," I could've sworn I'd heard it before. Kind of strange, given that their band name wasn't familiar to me at all, and they probably wouldn't be getting radio play. Then it hit me. I checked, and sure enough, the song was on the 2007 Tucson Acoustic Battle of the Bands compilation. Ron the Drummer and I scored a copy when we participated; one of our songs is on there too.

Hopefully I'll get to see them live sometime soon. If I can just find the time to go see live music again ...

Come back to the Firefly, Amber Jade, Amber Jade

Had the iPod on shuffle last night, and one of my favorite songs by Amber Jade came up. Amber was a local musician who played around town and, for a short time, ran an open mic at a now-defunct restaurant called Firefly. She was as relaxed on stage as most of us are sitting on the couch watching TV. I loved watching her and listening to her clear, beautiful voice.

A wave of nostalgia hit for this period of my life, when I held Amber up as a role model, when I had all the time in the world to perform at her open mics, when the path I'd chosen was filled with endless possibilities. Now a lot of those possibilities have come to pass. This makes me feel like I'm on the right track, but most days it also makes life too busy for me to decide at the spur of the moment to go out and see a band.

Amber: I hope you come back to Tucson to play one of these days. If I don't have a gig myself, I promise I will make the time to see you.

Unnatural caregiving?

Eric Hansen, a local folksinger who gave me a few valuable voice lessons a while back, has a congenital lung disease called alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency. Today I read about his experiences with it. As a singer, I wanted to know how someone who makes his living singing learns to cope with a condition that reduces lung capacity to 40%.

Then I got to this part, where he talks about participating in a clinical study for a new drug:

Boxes and boxes of supplies began arriving at my apartment which included: syringes, a centrifuge to spin blood, a pump, tubing and big foam boxes for shipping blood, Sharps containers and on and on. My girl friend just freaked out (I wasn’t too happy either) ... She did adjust a bit, but she never did go to Cleveland with me for support. Clearly, she was not a natural caregiver.

That caught my attention. I'd like to think that if someone I was dating suddenly found himself in possession of all this scary medical equipment, my reaction would be one of supportiveness and calm. In reality, I'd probably be pretty rattled.

We can all imagine what a "natural" caregiver is like -- someone with great nurturing instincts and a whole lot of patience. We can also imagine someone utterly lacking in these traits. My question: Can someone who isn't a natural caregiver learn to become one? And if so, how?