Last Minute Gigs-or the Ballad of Dwight Frye as told by Rachel Davis
Oh lord, I love getting last minute calls for gigs- one second you're contemplating what you might watch on the telly that evening, the next you're off to a gig. Even better, many last minute calls are due to sickness, border trouble, engine failures, etc., and are often fill-in gigs. I really enjoy the challenge of performing under less-than-rehearsed circumstances- there's a kind of artistic freedom in flying blind, and a special kind of honesty in fucking up. My good friend Rachel Davis called me up about a week ago and gave me a last-minuter at Vancouver's Railway Club, a favourite venue of mine- an intimate, good sounding music room with a fantastic staff. I've played with Rachel a fair bit in jam situations, largely in a duo format, so I've learned to read her cues and follow her tunes reasonably adeptly. Her regular guitarist was sick and she needed a replacement. This was to be a full band performance, so I was excited to see how I'd fit in with the group and interested in trying out some fresh sounds. I ended up dialling in a far dirtier sound than I regularly employ, and was able to grab feedback effortlessly throughout the set. I had a good vantage point to keep an eye on the leader's every move. Steve, the pianist, was a new acquaintance to me, but I had worked with Eric (bass) and have known Blair (drums) since I was in high school (he still has the same drums he had in the eighties). Everyone in the band seemed primed to go. It ended up being a rockin' set for a rockin' night- the headlining band seemed extremely pleased with the blend of acts, Rachel drew well, the band played heads-up, and I got to rock out in a way I rarely indulge. Definitely better than television.
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