The words of two wise Texas musicians have been bounding around in my head lately.
1. Willie Nelson: “I used to look around in the audience and find one person who was really paying attention. Then I’d play to that person.”
2. James McMurtry: “People would ask me, ‘Are you still playing your guitar?’ I thought it was such an odd question. Why would anybody quit? What they really mean is ‘Have you grown out of that yet?’ We teach our kids to paint, but we don’t want our kids to do it when they grow up.”
It’s really important (for me at least) to keep concepts like these in my head as I continue down my own musical path. On Saturday we had a gig on a great stage in front of a big audience that seemed to really appreciate what we were doing.
We played a place called the Blue Goose Fruit Shed in Loomis before a crowd of 300 (a Placer County Democratic fundraiser). We had a real green room with couches, a fridge, lighted mirror and a bathroom. We almost didn’t know what to do with ourselves.
I’m a novice when it comes to leading a band, but what I already know is you keep playing shows. You keep pushing forward and trying new tricks and writing new songs. Sometimes you’re a hit. Sometimes you’re a dud. But you keep doing your thing and who cares what it looks like.
For me, it’s all about connections. It’s everything when someone comes up after a set and expresses that some song touched them or made them feel good or reminded them of some other experience.
I wish it was a euphoric experience every time out (like Saturday), but that’s not reality. You never know when the rich connection time will occur. It could occur in someone’s living room just jamming with friends. It could be a huge festival with thousands in front of you (well, I actually still need to log that particular experience).
But I’m happy to be in the process. I can’t imagine ever plugging out of the process. If it means this much to me, maybe it will mean something to someone else.
There’s also an excitement in not knowing where the journey will lead. The unknown.
There is another quote I recall from awhile back that used to scare the daylights out of me. It was this: “Most people die with the music still in them.”
There’s a lot of hope in the idea that I might be getting at least some of it out of me.

There’s a lot of music in me, too, so that’s why I keep the remote handy
That’s right. The remote. Did I just get overpowered with it again?
Dang dude, too bad you couldn’t have been in Loomis with a giant remote in your hand.
Ha!