Bridging the break

Writing breaks—those instrumental interludes in the middle of songs—used to intimidate me. I'd always lose my way a few measures in, play something boring. And then what? Where to go from there?

But at some point, I realized that there's a process I always return to. If I trust the process, the notes will find their way to me eventually.

The process goes like this:

• Write a decent beginning. (This is the easy part.)
• Play the decent beginning and improvise what comes after.
• Repeat the previous step many times
• When I stumble upon something promising just after the decent beginning, follow up and develop it.
• When I stumble upon something promising at the end, follow up and develop it.
• Steer what comes before the ending toward the ending.
• Keep going until the beginning and end meet in the middle.

Tonight I finished a break for one of my new songs. Recorded it so I won't forget. I am pleased.

And for the first time I wondered: Is this process universal? Or do other songwriters do breaks differently?

Averted

We were nearing the end of our set at an indoor art festival when I felt it. Something in my throat. If I sang the next notes as I always did, the resulting sound would be a hacky train wreck. Even the people who weren't listening would notice.

I routed around whatever was in my throat. The hack-inducing thing went away. The mother of all clams was averted.

Everything before and after that moment went well too. We got a lot more positive attention than I would have expected, given that we were only there to enhance the ambience. Still, the thing I'm most proud of is the thing that didn't happen. Funny how that works.

Stringing along

In preparation for the tuner's visit yesterday, I cleared off the junk that had accumulated on top of my piano over the course of a year. Then I played a little bit and noticed something weird.

For weeks, many of the keys had been hitting more than one string. But now most of them were working as they should. Some quick chromatic scales revealed that only three keys were showing signs of trouble, and not as markedly as before.

At first I thought I'd caused the improvement by removing all that junk. But that didn't make sense. Pianos are sturdy things. Putting stuff on top of them doesn't hurt them any.

Maybe it just wanted attention.

The piano tuner was as baffled by this turn of events as I was, but no matter. In spite of his dire predictions that I might need to buy a whole new piano, he was able to fix it for just $15 above the cost of the regular tune. And it doesn't just sound better now. It feels better to play. Practicing last night was a joy.

So, except for the weird suspicion that an inanimate object has been messing with my mind, everything is good now.

* * *

A little plug for the guy who made my piano (and me) very happy: Neal Flint has been tuning pianos in Tucson for over 30 years. He does good work and he's a heckuva nice guy. Of interest to some of my readers, he told me that he has a couple of clients with MCS. If you live in Tucson, have chemical sensitivities, and need a piano tuner, call Neal. He'll go fragrance-free if you need him to and he won't act like it's a big deal. www.flinttuningandpiping.com

Mutiny of the keys

My piano has needed repair for a few weeks now. First an oft-used key started hitting a couple of strings at once. Then other keys followed suit. It's painful to listen to.

And now I'm worried. Based on my description, a couple of piano tuners I talked to said my piano might not be fixable. Nobody makes Rippens anymore. There may not be any existing replacement parts.

This is bad. I can't afford another piano. Plus, the one I have is perfect for practicing, with heavy action that gives my fingers a good workout.

There's still hope. I dealt with a similar issue a year ago (though only one key was playing the wrong note; the others were just sticking), and the tuner fixed it right up.

Tuning/repair is scheduled for next week. My fingers are crossed. Which makes it kind of hard to play, but given how the piano sounds right now, that's probably a blessing.

On the down-low

Not long ago, we were hired to play at a private conference. Our directive from the event coordinator was clear: We'd be there for atmosphere only. The songs we chose should be low-key. In fact, half the time we'd need to do pieces with no vocals at all.

No problem. Instrumentals aren't part of our usual repertoire, but we could certainly make a few up as we went along. We set up in the reception area, turned way down, and did our thing while guests talked and nibbled on hors d'oeuvres.

After an hour, the guests moved into the main banquet room and we packed up, proclaiming the event a success. We did what we were supposed to, which was lend the reception a touch of class while not making it impossible for people to hear each other. A few people even said they enjoyed the music.

Today I thanked the coordinator who hired us, and she sent a note back saying that we were "a huge hit":

Thank you so much for performing ... Since then I've heard MANY MANY MANY nice things from those attending the event.

Wow. Even at a pure atmosphere gig, you never know who's listening.

Paws of the Past pics

In my last post about Saturday's gig, I talked more about my tragic inability to function in society than the actual gig. To balance things out a bit, a few details about the day's event:

• The benefit, for HOPE Animal Shelter, was called Paws of the Past. Its purpose was to raise needed funds and honor past adoptees. Attendees were encouraged to bring their dogs or pictures of their adopted cats. A friend of a friend brought her two huge Airedales. They seemed happy to be there.
• Before we started playing, Ron the Drummer introduced me to Al, who would be doing the auctions and announcing raffle winners. I found out the next day that Al was Allen "Big Al" Kath of KGUN 9. (If you live in Tucson, you've heard of him.) In the presence of celebrity, and I didn't even realize it.
• Performance itself was pretty relaxed. We'd do a few songs, then hang back while someone else made announcements. During one of our breaks onstage, a woman gave me her business card and asked if we ever played at restaurants.
• From the stage we had an amazing view of the Catalinas (or Santa Catalina Mountains for those of you not in the area). I wish I'd remembered to take a picture of them, but a picture wouldn't do them justice anyway.

Here are some photos. Except where noted, these are courtesy of Don Martin.

Hi!

Ron! Are you having as much fun as I am?

Look at all these keys! When I press them down, they make noises.

Whee! Hey, Ron, why aren't you in any of these?

That's better.

More Ron the Drummer.

Check out how nice this stage looks. The shade was greatly appreciated. (Photo by Neill Mills.)

Whee, I say, whee!

Ron, with his brand spankin' new ride cymbal (left). Cymbal made its debut at this gig.

Thanks to everyone who came out. We had a great time.

Doggies, kitties, and memory glitches

Saturday morning, 11:40, Brandi Fenton Park. I realized I'd left my water bottle at home, and trotted off to a booth that sold water so I wouldn't dehydrate for the afternoon's gig, a benefit for HOPE Animal Shelter. At the booth, I realized I had nothing in my pocket except my cell phone and a Cinder Bridge business card.

Huh. Must've left credit cards, driver's license, and money at home. Which was weird, because I remembered seeing them on the end table before stuffing the business card in my pocket.

The nice person at the booth said I should go up to one of the organizers, tell him I was with the band, and ask for water. I did, and we were up and running.

When I got home later that day, the first thing I did was check for my cards and cash. They weren't where I left them. I tore that area of my bedroom apart. No dice. Retraced my steps in the house, the driveway, the car, back to Brandi Fenton Park ... Nope.

Defeated, I called the credit card companies. The good news: no activity on any of the cards that day. So they probably weren't stolen. I had a hunch they were still somewhere in the house, and they'd turn up eventually. But I couldn't exactly wait the six months I thought it would take for that to happen. I cancelled my cards and figured that would be the end of it for a while.

The next day I did laundry. Cards and cash fell out of Friday's pair of jeans.

Oy.

Usually that's the first place I check. I hadn't because I'd been so sure I'd seen them on the end table. Instead, I must have seen them not on the table, assumed I'd already pocketed them, and confabulated a memory of seeing them there.

Anyway. The gig itself went off without a hitch. Great cause. Beautiful day. Once again, I wish I could be spending all of my time doing music. I can do music. I'm not all that good at activities of daily living.

Thanks to Don Martin for the photo. I noticed him there with the camera while we were playing and struck this pose for his benefit. In retrospect, it was an accurate representation of my mental state.