Shinybass journal entry 03-01-11

Good morning ladies and gentlemen!

I get up early.  Not as early as say, a milkman, or my brothers with children, but for a ‘musician’, I am up early.  There are several reasons for this: First, I love the beginning of the day.  I love the first light beaming through the windows, warming the floors and reminding us we are alive.  It is a reminder that the day is new, and at that point we can choose to conquer, or go back to bed and conquer somewhere around the 10 o’clock hour.  I also like the quiet still in the morning.  Even when it’s cold out, I like to take a cup of coffee and walk around the back yard, usually in my bare feet, to just listen.  It’s pretty calming.  Some days I wish I didn’t live in the city, but closer to the ocean to hear its mighty roar at dawn.  Campfires and water in motion are two things that can hypnotize, and nothing has to be said when looking at either.  That may be why I like my fire pit so much.  It got a spell on me!

After my first 9 or 10 cups of coffee, I start to get into music mode.  At that point, you would think I would be in ‘paint the whole house’ mode.  Oh no.  I go on you tube and start to search for all kinds of odd songs and rare live clips and sit in fascination as the music pours from the speakers.  You would probably laugh as I sit here and groove on old R&B or Beatles stuff in my robe.  I am quite the sight.  My girlfriend laughs at me almost daily.  I said at, not with.  And with good reason.  I am a clown.  A robe wearin’, beatboxin’, caffeinated clown.

This past week I had two amazing nights out on the town, which is not like me at all.  I am generally a hermit, but you know, things just happen, the phone just rings, and there you are.  Red wine drunk in a recording studio off music row at 2:30 in the morning, listening to some of the greatest music ever recorded.  Nashville is sort of like that.  But more than that, it’s great friends that make it all happen, and it just so happens that my passion is my job, and vice versa.  I won’t go into crazy details, but I was able to jam with two good friends that night, Mr. Jeff Brown, and he and I were backing the legendary Steve Cropper.  If you don’t know who Steve is, please leave this page immediately, google him, and come back.  I’ll wait.

The next blowout came on Saturday, which was another great ‘Nashville’ thing.  First I saw my friends Ed Toth and John Billings at 3rd and Lindsley (in the company of Jeff Brown and his wifey), and then once Maegan was off work, we rallied and blew it out over in East Nashville with our friends Amos Heller and his wife.  Amos plays for a 6-foot tall songwriter with permed blonde hair that sings about breakups and sex with John Meyer.  I will let you figure it out.  I have dropped more names in this entry than a clumsy phone book delivery boy.  Anyways, after a few shots of some sort of 107-proof battery acid, we poured ourselves in a cab and made it home late.  Twice this past week I hurt myself.  Badly.  Not like me at all to do that at home.  On the road it’s different.  We live in a bubble, so your rides, hotels, etc, are usually taken care of.  Plus we have a tour manager that keeps us all in check.  Not so at home. Big boy pants time.

But as much as I complain about the city, the industry, the lack of a good Italian sub here in Nashville (any suggestions?) I do love the music, and to walk into a club and randomly see cats like Keb Mo’ or Johnny Cowan playing, well, it makes it all worthwhile.  I am a music fan first, so I can put up with Nashville in all its Nashville-ness.  I think I would like to stay in NYC for an extended period of time for the same reason.  Like go see 2 acts a night for a week solid then come home.  I dunno.  You are on the receiving end of my ramblings, which at this point, has no governor.

My point, however circuitous, is that you are right where you are supposed to be.  I have preached it a hundred times, so you may be tired of the same message (yeah, but you keep buying that Britney crap, so we’re even!), but in typing these entries, I discover myself.  And there it is.  I love people, I love music, and I love Italian subs.

Where to this week, Steve?  The only public show we have is in Tampa at the St. Pete Times Forum, which is a fine, fine venue, where 3 years ago we played with Dierks and Luke Bryan.  Was it that long ago?  Where’s my fiber? I hope you can all make it out!  And if you follow me on Twitter, then I am giving away meet and greet passes (ummm, for Phil, not me) and tickets for this weekend.  Woo hoo!

See you on the road!


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