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Shit meets the fan in rural Oregon
by Michele Christopher
First of all I just want to introduce you all to my world. And I'm not going to do it nice and easy. No, because I never do anything nice and easy, just like Ike and Tina.
My world revolves around playing music. Just about any kind of music you can throw at me, I'll take a stab at playing. I may not like it. I may hate it so much you see me leaning off the side of the stage throwing up in some woman's faux Prada purse, but I'll keep playing until I can't stand it anymore. Or I drop from exhaustion. Or someone kicks me off stage.
I'm currently involved in a blues society. Which is pretty cool. We run a public jam every week. Everyone is invited to play. As long as you can carry a tune in a dumptruck, you can even sing. These folks are all the first people I met when we moved here last year. I often re-realize that all my friends are musicians. That's fucking scary. That's like putting live Qassam rockets along the path to your curb and calling it garden décor. If I was smart I would run the fuck the other way. But that ain't my job, the being smart thing.
This can all be really entertaining sometimes. The people-watching factor is off the scale, and some people totally self-destruct on stage, and that's pretty damn cool to watch, too. Maybe not so fantastic to hear, but damn funny usually to watch. You know, I'm not the one who enjoys starting the shit, but I sure do like to watch it hit the fan sometimes.
A lot of what I will probably write about will be these musical adventures, the clashing of egos, grown ups who act like 2-year-olds and then expect to be taken so very seriously, the gigs we do with the blues society (we do a lot of benefits for charities. As long as SOMEONE supplies the whiskey for us). Thoughts on playing a form of music that drives me bananas but still draws me, and how schizo I can be about being involved in it and my own retardotantrums.
I offer up, here as a sort of introduction to my world, a case of shit meets fan. Someone happened to be recording at this jam. We happened to have a very, very drunk person tell us she was a good singer and wanted to get up and sing some songs. So we let her. Because we're nice that way- and hell if they let me play drums, no one should be the least bit shy about anything else. In doing so, we gave ourselves literally months of entertainment at someone else's expense.
*thats one of the jams. not an actual band, just blues fans doin the thursday night thing. Me on the bass, i think a dude named paul on one guitar, kirk on another guitar, and probably tom on the drums. and some crazy psycho drunk chick singing after she told us she could sing. bwahahahaha. thats an introduction to my world, that mp3. It was so bad at times i couldn't play i was laughing so hard and trying not to do it out loud.