Sleep ended too early for me this morning at the Cupertino hotel, so I read and eventually slept again. Got up a bit later than I’d intended, so dry I drank a bottle of water and a watermelon juice I’d bought the day before. At around 11am I was still ravenously thirsty and walked to Whole Wallet Foods again. Ordered a green juice and bought two more, and a couple other items. When I got back at 11:40am the bus was parked out front and I stuck the bag on it and hurried inside – I’d still not showered, though I’d packed nearly everything. Got back to the bus right at noon, still exceptionally thirsty, drank a green juice, and we started for the venue.
The ride to Mountain Winery in Saratoga was on a winding, narrow road, rough and bumpy, with quite a drop on the left side. We met a truck coming down and he hesitated as if he expected us to back up. That was never going to happen, so he pulled off as far as he could on the right side. As he did so a van came breezing down past him and saw us, stopped, and pulled off.
The bus parking for the venue was a good way from the stage, up in their top parking lot. I could see the surrounding countryside and houses for miles. Golf carts shuttled us down to the stage area. I brought my guitar, Tele banjo, and laptop bag down there, but soon realized there was nowhere for me to set up and play without being annoying. Suddenly the realization hit me that there was an empty first-class dressing room on wheels up in the parking lot that I had just left behind, so they carted me and all my stuff back to the bus. My first move was to make hot chocolate. Almond milk, chocolate powder, stevia, coconut sugar in the milk foamer/heater. Turn it on. When warm, add coconut butter. Turn it on again. Two beeps, pour into Rabbit Room mug. Enjoy.
I set the laptop on the front lounge’s dinette table, popped open my gray Calton with the ’38 Martin D28 and started working on the steel and guitar solos for Haggard’s Swinging Doors. It is always mind-expanding to imitate other instruments and learn their solos on acoustic guitar or banjo. There are bends and slides a steel can do that are tough to replicate on an acoustic guitar with medium strings. But in attempting to do so, I learn things about the guitar, about my hands, about tension and relaxation, and about musicality – things I might never have noticed. I’ve done this with everything from Ray Charles piano solos to Benny Goodman clarinet or Bill Monroe mandolin solos. I may eventually forget the exact solo but the pathways this kind of learning opens up in my brain are highly beneficial.
After my left hand fingers began to get sore from all the bending and sliding I was doing, I worked on my singing for awhile. It was good having a place completely away from people because I could make all the noise I wanted. My voice has felt tight lately, not pliable, so doing some exercises worked things out some. I felt better by the end and set about making Chai tea.
Dan came on the bus, so I quieted down. It was about time for my cousin Larry and his wife to arrive. They showed up via golf cart and we headed down to visit at the venue for awhile before sound check.
Sound check was uneventful. I did a banjo restring talking to Larry about the Fishman Aura, and he told me Fishman makes a midi guitar pickup - I’d love to try that out. I used to have a Roland midi pickup on my green 1983 Stratocaster Elite. I’d love to have another, if it tracked well - most of the ones I’ve tried have slightly slow response times. I did write I Give You To His Heart from the Prince of Egypt Nashville album on that green Strat using a Fender Rhodes sound.
Did a quick guitar restring before dinner on the Santa Cruz. Dinner was good. Spicy noodles, salad, and a lot of grilled oriental vegetables, and the great company of my cousin Larry, Christy, and my cousin Sudha.
I left them to get dressed and tune. Michael rolled my instruments out of that back room to just offstage, outside, in the cooler temperature, and I’m glad he did. The instruments all went sharp right before I tuned them instead of having it happen during the show. The smaller venue made it easier to hear the sound coming out of the speakers in front. The night was cool and clear and perfect, and the audience was appreciative.
I sat with my cousins, their spouses Christy and Chris, and Sudha’s son Nico and his friend to watch some of Willie’s set. Willie’s playing is so quirky. He just flies by the seat of his pants and makes it work. And his set is made up of so many well-known songs that he wrote, everything from Crazy to Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground. We went up and did our thing with Willie on his gospel medley, finished, I changed clothes and sat with my cousins in the catering room and we talked about everything from parenting to music to marriage.
We went downstairs and a golf cart driver took us back up the hill. We said goodbye to Sudha and Chris and Nico (his friend was already nearly asleep in the car). Larry and Christy and I talked some more, first about the stars (great app: Star Walk) and then about guitar playing (Larry is a guitarist as well). We traveled through melody, Lindsay Buckingham of Fleetwood Mac, James Burton, Roy Nichols, and how to play a memorable solo. We said goodbye there with the starry night sky overhead and the lights in valley below, and I came on the bus to write this journal and avoid eating very much pizza at all.
The ride to Mountain Winery in Saratoga was on a winding, narrow road, rough and bumpy, with quite a drop on the left side. We met a truck coming down and he hesitated as if he expected us to back up. That was never going to happen, so he pulled off as far as he could on the right side. As he did so a van came breezing down past him and saw us, stopped, and pulled off.
The bus parking for the venue was a good way from the stage, up in their top parking lot. I could see the surrounding countryside and houses for miles. Golf carts shuttled us down to the stage area. I brought my guitar, Tele banjo, and laptop bag down there, but soon realized there was nowhere for me to set up and play without being annoying. Suddenly the realization hit me that there was an empty first-class dressing room on wheels up in the parking lot that I had just left behind, so they carted me and all my stuff back to the bus. My first move was to make hot chocolate. Almond milk, chocolate powder, stevia, coconut sugar in the milk foamer/heater. Turn it on. When warm, add coconut butter. Turn it on again. Two beeps, pour into Rabbit Room mug. Enjoy.
I set the laptop on the front lounge’s dinette table, popped open my gray Calton with the ’38 Martin D28 and started working on the steel and guitar solos for Haggard’s Swinging Doors. It is always mind-expanding to imitate other instruments and learn their solos on acoustic guitar or banjo. There are bends and slides a steel can do that are tough to replicate on an acoustic guitar with medium strings. But in attempting to do so, I learn things about the guitar, about my hands, about tension and relaxation, and about musicality – things I might never have noticed. I’ve done this with everything from Ray Charles piano solos to Benny Goodman clarinet or Bill Monroe mandolin solos. I may eventually forget the exact solo but the pathways this kind of learning opens up in my brain are highly beneficial.
After my left hand fingers began to get sore from all the bending and sliding I was doing, I worked on my singing for awhile. It was good having a place completely away from people because I could make all the noise I wanted. My voice has felt tight lately, not pliable, so doing some exercises worked things out some. I felt better by the end and set about making Chai tea.
Dan came on the bus, so I quieted down. It was about time for my cousin Larry and his wife to arrive. They showed up via golf cart and we headed down to visit at the venue for awhile before sound check.
Sound check was uneventful. I did a banjo restring talking to Larry about the Fishman Aura, and he told me Fishman makes a midi guitar pickup - I’d love to try that out. I used to have a Roland midi pickup on my green 1983 Stratocaster Elite. I’d love to have another, if it tracked well - most of the ones I’ve tried have slightly slow response times. I did write I Give You To His Heart from the Prince of Egypt Nashville album on that green Strat using a Fender Rhodes sound.
Did a quick guitar restring before dinner on the Santa Cruz. Dinner was good. Spicy noodles, salad, and a lot of grilled oriental vegetables, and the great company of my cousin Larry, Christy, and my cousin Sudha.
I left them to get dressed and tune. Michael rolled my instruments out of that back room to just offstage, outside, in the cooler temperature, and I’m glad he did. The instruments all went sharp right before I tuned them instead of having it happen during the show. The smaller venue made it easier to hear the sound coming out of the speakers in front. The night was cool and clear and perfect, and the audience was appreciative.
I sat with my cousins, their spouses Christy and Chris, and Sudha’s son Nico and his friend to watch some of Willie’s set. Willie’s playing is so quirky. He just flies by the seat of his pants and makes it work. And his set is made up of so many well-known songs that he wrote, everything from Crazy to Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground. We went up and did our thing with Willie on his gospel medley, finished, I changed clothes and sat with my cousins in the catering room and we talked about everything from parenting to music to marriage.
We went downstairs and a golf cart driver took us back up the hill. We said goodbye to Sudha and Chris and Nico (his friend was already nearly asleep in the car). Larry and Christy and I talked some more, first about the stars (great app: Star Walk) and then about guitar playing (Larry is a guitarist as well). We traveled through melody, Lindsay Buckingham of Fleetwood Mac, James Burton, Roy Nichols, and how to play a memorable solo. We said goodbye there with the starry night sky overhead and the lights in valley below, and I came on the bus to write this journal and avoid eating very much pizza at all.