I’m extremely proud and pleased to announce that my friend, Wild Bil McCombe, who played bass and resonator guitar on my song, A Polite Little Madness, has been nominated for Best Blues Artist by the Ventura County Music Awards. Bil is one terrific man and about six amazing musicians (!) and he deserves to win. Let’s keep all our digits crossed!
I’m currently trying to work up the nerve to ask him to contribute his considerable talents on another song on my CD, but that may take me a little while. I just admire him so damned much and I don’t like imposing on people I admire. Yeah, I know. This is a problem and it’s held me back in my life, but I’m getting better.
Anyway, congrats, Bil. No one deserves this more than you!
Check Bil’s Facebook page (linked above) to find out when and where he’s performing next. If I still lived in Ventura County, I’d be following him and his band around like a puppy!
In a meditation on my birthday back in September, I got down to business and told myself/the universe/God/whatever that I wanted a definite, unmistakable sign about which of my two creative expressions—either my books or my album—I’m supposed to concentrate on in 2017. I would be happy working on either one, I stressed, but I needed to know which path I was supposed to take because I didn’t want to waste precious time pouring myself into something that would bear no fruit.
The larger part of me didn’t really expect anything to happen. I’ve been let down my entire life in my ongoing search to have faith in the validity of faith. Beloved childhood mythological entities like Santa Claus had let me down, revered religious figures had let me down, and in more recent years The Secret and all that weebie-wobie, pink cloud, white light crap had let me down. All the same, in this extremely proactive, confrontational meditation I promised I would accept help from anyone or anything and give credit where it’s due once the project was completed and bearing that fruit. I wasn’t easy. I demanded an irrefutable sign of some kind. I wouldn’t settle for something flimsy and I wouldn’t read non-existent, pie-in-the-sky, self-serving meaning into otherwise mundane events. My greatest purpose was not to lie to myself.
Actually, until last week I’d forgotten about that meditation and, believe it or not, signs came. Tangible, irrefutable synchronicities that reminded me of my leap of non-faith faith. From out of the blue, unsolicited help has come in from different places where my album is concerned while there has been nothing whatsoever about my books, but when the single, incontestable sign came last night, I knew I’d received an answer.
“Sci-fi has never really been my bag, but
I do believe in a lot of weird things these
days, such as synchronicity. Quantum
physics suggests it’s possible, so why not?”
Actually, it all started when I checked into my ReverbNation account one night just before Christmas. I hadn’t been in there for a few months and at that time I had just 12 fans, all who mostly were musician friends. Man, was I taken aback when I logged in and saw that I had nearly 1000 fans and a number of comments from strangers praising my songs! So I tidied up my profile page, added the two videos that I posted here, and “fanned” back some people. At the time I thought it might be a sign, but it was too flimsy, too serendipitous, and too easily explained as a consequence of the passage of time and of simply having a page there at all. I was encouraged, but I let it pass.
Then, one night last week as I sat up late writing, I received a text from a man whose musicianship I’ve admired for a number of years. Jim Rolfe is the quintessential musicians’ musician. Not only does he write amazing music and can play any instrument he lends his hands to, he’s well-respected around the country, having performed both onstage and in the studio with many other musicians for the past 50 years. He’s seasoned, professional, dedicated, and just a darned nice human being. When he texted me asking for the guitar and vocal tracks of Judge and Jury, I was stunned. You might remember that in 2015 Jim offered to help with this album but, due to my aversion to using people, I never followed up with him. (Wild Bil McCombe first offered to help, which I accepted for one song, but no others. I may have to rethink his offer and invite him in on another song or two.) Jim said he had some ideas and would like to add them to the mix. Now, normally I wouldn’t send anyone the naked tracks of my demos, but this was Jim Rolfe so I sent them without reservation. I’m not an idiot. I still didn’t think this was enough of a sign to justify closing my book’s manuscript and pull out my music, though, but I knew that if it were a sign another would come along to support and substantiate it. I’ve always believed in the saying,
“Once is a fluke, twice is a coincidence,
thrice is confirmation.”
The confirmation came last night when he sent me the first mix and I was gobsmacked by what he’d added. Bass, drums, guitar, mandolin—I’m not sure what all is in there, but I loved what I heard. We communicated back and forth about it and, feeling the need to test this supposed threefold sign, I pushed a little harder. Terrified I might overwhelm him (i.e. scare him away) with demands and assumptions (which I’ve never done with anyone before where my music is concerned for fear of coming on too strong), I, in my fashion, jokingly asked if he might want to work on some other songs, perhaps even mix and produce the entire album? Heh-heh, just kidding… I even went so far as to explain that I can’t afford to pay him, really, but I’d give him full credits and a cut of the sales. Heh-heh… I never expected the answer that came back. I mean, he’s a busy man. Not only does he perform, record and tour, he also teaches guitar and has a life! He replied with, “Let me know what you are thinking as far as another song, etc.” I then audaciously suggested I send him my demos as I complete them and he sent me a thumbs up followed by a smiley face.
So there we are! I’m amped! As of Tuesday I’ll begin not only recording demos of the songs I already have, I’ll be writing new songs. I’ll get back to my books when this project is completed. I still don’t know what I have faith in, but whatever it is, I’m a believer!
Here’s a silly little video I made to go along with my demo of “A Polite Little Madness.” The finished CD version will have new vocals, but the instrumentation will stay as it is. Have a very Happy Holidays, however you celebrate them!
Since my cousin Rob stepped in and solved the low-frequency hum issue, I’ve been working steadily on the album. Two songs are pretty much ready to be mixed down. All one needs is the bottleneck slide guitar track and the other needs my finger picking tracks cleaned up. I’ve decided not to share the songs as they are completed, except for the title track, A Polite Little Madness. I think it’s only right and fair to post that one. Last night I told Lynette that if I were to make a video to go with that song (do people still make videos? I really don’t know), it would be of me cruising out Route 66 in a pink ’57 T-Bird convertible. It’s good driving music. I mean, for old farts like me who actually remember seeing their first ’57 T-Bird in 1957. Wild Bil McCombe’s bass is dirty and primal and I can’t wait to hear what he does with his slide! He’ll be going into the studio with that track on Monday. Man, I have to wait a whole weekend!
I have every intention not to record today, but can I do it? We’ll see. I’m pretty tired. I used to be able to work on music indefinitely—rehearse, record, party until dawn, then sleep it off and start all over again—and never be worse for wear. These days are different. After three days of recording I wake up tired and brain dead. When I look to artists like the Rolling Stones (who are 10 years older than I am) I have to remind myself that Mick Jagger never gave birth to two children. Keith never had to survive menopause, Ronnie hasn’t lived a lifetime of financial worry, and I really doubt that Charlie Watts has ever had to scrub the shower, mop the kitchen floor, do the laundry, or pick up the dog crap. They have the best healthcare available, all the best old fart medications, and all they have to do, basically, is make the music and then go home while other people mix and master, and take care of life around them. I love the Stones, but they’re probably not the best barometer for me to judge myself by. Instead, I look to Wild Bil McCombe, Jim Rolfe, Wade Johnson, and my other musician friends. Yeah, I know they’ve never given birth, etc., but I don’t personally know any female musicians in my age group. It’s enough. They inspire me. When I was a kid I preferred keeping up with the boys, whose interests were more engaging than dolls and playing dress-up.
Knowing me, I’ll probably clean up those guitar tracks and call it a day. When I’m in music mode, staying away from the work is more work than the work itself.