Another return! This time La Bonita was open so I played across the street on the sidewalk on the south side of Alberta.

First thing I did was set up my benches, and then began donning the equipment. As I was tuning my guitar a couple of kids ran by with ice cream cones, followed by a woman I figured was their mother. She walked past and stopped, and keeping her back to me she muttered audibly, “I’m so sorry the revolutionary council couldn’t provide you with benches.” I have to wonder, was I transgressing by playing in this spot?

Well, she walked off before I could engage, so I went ahead and transgressed, er, played. The revolutionary council never showed up, but during the second or third song, I saw my friend Katie coming across the street. I was delighted to see she took in the remainder of my show perched on a bench.

It was  a pretty warm day, and a lot of families and large groups were strolling down Alberta. Some stuck around, some even sat down. I had wisely chosen to stand in the shade of the building while the placement of my benches encouraged spectators to bask in a sunny space before me.

Maybe half an hour in, another friend rolled up on his bike, locked it up, and took a seat on the other bench. It was none but Jeffrey, taking a break from learning new words so he could see what all this one man band nonsense was about.

It was about two hours, is what it was. I played from 5pm to just after 7pm, to maybe 50 different people stopping to watch here and there (although only Katie and Jeffrey stuck it out to the bitter end). As the sun kissed the horizon I decided to call it a day–before these old legs gave out altogether.

Although I enjoyed much of what transpired during my show (La Bonita sidewalk diners not complaining, people crossing the street to come listen) my favorite moment was after I played a song and a little boy came up to ask me what it was called. “Entropy,” I replied, and he asked, “What’s Entropy?” I told him: Kid, ask your parents. You don’t want to learn about something so important from some punk out in the street!

The weather continues to cooperate for a return to the site of a previous show. The first time I played on this corner, it was dusk and got dark while I was playing. I had intended to play on the wide sidewalk in front of the church on the corner, but they were running an event that would have probably been disrupted by my commotion, so I stayed on the (significantly narrower) sidewalk across the street. It turned out to be a fun show, but it wasn’t what I expected going in.

This time, on the eve of Easter, the church was quiet and its wide sidewalk was mine for the taking. Before playing, I set up a new addition to the sidewalk performance:

Enjoy the show from these surprisingly comfortable portable benches.

Although I won’t deny playing a number of songs to these empty benches, they did kind of work as I’d hoped, by encouraging people to linger a bit longer to see the show. Turns out, “Take a load off!” is more inviting than “Stand here listening to this song about yet another aspect of my self-loathing!”

Also, this corner is within hobbling distance of my friend Erin’s house. Which is significant because she right now she suffers from a broken ankle. And how was I able to entice her to limp over and watch the show for a while? It was nought but the promise of a comfy place to sit.

And although Russell typically boasts few pedestrians on a Saturday afternoon, getting one person to sit down leads to another, etc., and I spent a decent amount of time playing to actual people. Portable benches were a hit; look for them at future shows. And sit down!

In case you ever wondered, yes it is a little daunting to strike that first chord or drum beat, or to sing that first note. But I’m getting better at starting shows; mainly I just play the same first song every time, and things kind of flow from that.

What I’m having trouble with lately is ending shows. Although many are the people who will never think I’ve stopped too soon, lately there’s always a couple of people who walk up and wait for the “next song” just as I’ve decided I’ve had it and it’s time to go. For any such people, I often play a song or two, for it’s hard to pass up so fleeting and rare a thing as an audience. And how could I disappoint that uncommon person who actually wants to hear me play?

Ah, but now I have the benches, so a bit of leverage allowed me to offer a deal: sit on the bench and I’ll play another song. And it actually worked, perhaps even too well. For just as I finished one person’s “last song” some more people would stop and want their last song, and so on. In all, these “encores” went on about 20 minutes past when I thought I would stop.

One of the last people I played to was a family with two young kids, and I scoured my brain to think of a kid-friendly song that I also felt like playing. Perhaps owing to fatigue, having already played close to 90 minutes, for some reason I thought “Mummy” would be appropriate, and it was for two verses, with its quick tempo and shouts about the mummy’s curse. But the third verse talks about the bloody deaths of the desecrators of King Tut’s tomb, as the mummy’s curse fulfills its purpose.

It’s meant to be a fun, silly song, but…for adults? Alas, this only occurred to me as I began singing the third verse, so I just forged ahead. Most likely, it all went over the kids’ heads, and I didn’t traumatize them for life. I hope.

Oh no, you’ll just die,

And never know why.

MUMMY!!!

First day of spring. The oddly non-rainy weather continues in Portland. I don’t want to squander a nice day by not playing a show, and yet…I’m not really dying to play today. It’s more like a feeling that I need a little more practice after a couple of weeks off, and it might be months before the weather is this cooperative again.

An errand took me to Williams and Shaver, so I brought my gear along and walked around a little…but it didn’t feel right. I drove down MLK toward Russell, site of previous show, but I wasn’t feeling that, either. I headed to Alberta and 21st, but…not that it’s old hat, I just wanted to try a brand new location.

I continued down Alberta to 29th Ave. and found an empty storefront to play from. And while it’s just a few blocks away, somehow it felt quite far from 21st and Alberta. But just as Salt & Straw draws the family crowds at 21st Ave., Tonalli’s Doughnuts draws the family crowds at 29th Ave.

And speaking of crowds, at one point a group of 12 or so people accumulated to take in the show. This is kind of unusual; mostly people are in too much of a hurry (“Ice Cream!” “Doughnuts!”) to pause for mere music, and I play a lot of songs to no one in particular. So it’s nice to have an audience for a full song or two.

As the crowd dispersed, a couple with a baby arrived and waited for me to play another song. I tried to think of something a baby might like, and started into “I’m Not a Bear,” which I first performed at the Bear Show almost exactly one year ago. It went okay, although I did feel a twinge for the mother who was ready to applaud and decamp after the chorus, only to be interrupted by me starting up the third verse. But at that point, the baby started to get into it a little more, so no hard feelings, only smiles all around.

I played a bit longer, and was really starting to feel that sun beating down on my face. Fully sweaty, atop tired legs, I decided to call it a day. As I was removing my drums, a young couple was perching themselves on the bike racks by the curb. I apologized, but told them they had bad timing today. They asked if I play there often, and when could they next see me.

Well, I was having a good time playing there, and I do hope to return, but I can’t say for sure when I might get the chance again. So I told them I’d check my song list and if I found a song I’d meant to play but didn’t, I’d play it now. And there it was: “Entropy.”

I re-tuned my guitar, strapped on the drums, and began to play. If I may say, I detected a few reactions during the song. First was a kind of delight that I really was doing all of this stuff at once; then there was surprise that I can actually sing; and finally, a kind of satisfaction that they’d just heard a pretty good song. (It’s kind of an epic song that proceeds from the origin of life on earth to the inevitable degeneration of the universe.) It was a nice finish to a good show.

And then I too visited Tonalli’s and enjoyed a chocolate old fashioned. Before leaving the shop, I picked up an apple fritter for Señora Demasiado, and brought it home to her.

Kind of went full-Portland on this one: acoustical one man band show, to which I travelled by bicycle, towing my gear in a trailer. Still oddly nice weather in Portland, so I wanted to play in a park. Thinking back, there was a park I played in that was a little difficult owing to grey skies and cold, plus the impediment of playing on soft, almost muddy grass. (It’s really hard to time the bass drum when the distance from heel to pedal varies while you play.)

Well, if you haven’t noticed by now, performing music in public is often about a kind of redemption; it’s like returning to a fishing hole after coming up empty the weekend before. So I knew just the park to play in: Sumner-Albina City Park. Again.

I arrived earlier than the 3pm start time I announced, so I walked around and checked the ground, figured out a good spot to play from (up against the wall!) and started to set up. Because the bar adjacent to the park has an outdoor patio, I let the people sitting there know I was going to play. I told them I hoped they’d enjoy the show, but if not, just give a thumbs-down and I’ll quit. A man identifying himself as the owner of the bar—let’s call it the Crimson Canine—said, as the owner he wasn’t worried because he would stop me if I became a nuisance in any event. Really wasn’t expecting such a cheerless, humorless response, but…okay. (For the record, this is a public city park. Tiny, but public, i.e., merely adjacent to the bar, not owned by the bar.)

I’m happy to report the nuisance issue never arose again. I wouldn’t say the patio people were uniformly thrilled to have me there—for the first half hour, you might have thought they were legally prohibited from applauding—but I didn’t see any thumbs down, either. Sometimes you have to re-define “victory” as “not losing by as much as you expected.”

I started out playing to basically no one, but eventually some people stopped, and some friends showed up, and by the end it felt like a pretty good show. The sun was bright, and I didn’t want any spectators (it happens!) to be squinting while trying to see me, so I stood against the wall facing the sun. This might have been less considerate than I thought, though, because people standing around on a warm-ish but not exactly “warm” day may wish they were in the sun. Sorry, guys!

Towards the end of the show, a woman approached me, saying she was the “Creative Laureate” of Portland. And insisted there really is such a thing. (There really is!) She’s working on a project called “Talk to Strangers” and documents an encounter with a stranger each day of the year. Today I was that lucky stranger, and you can follow Julie’s adventures on the Talk to Strangers site.

After all that, I remembered I was trying to raise money for my friend Priya to use toward a handicap-accessible van, so I made the long walk over to the patio to see if anyone wanted to contribute, either directly to me, or by visiting Priya’s website. I would describe the overall reaction of the people seated on the patio as…thumbs down!

And so, as promised, I left.

This has become my most frequently played location, and for good reason: good pedestrian traffic, good acoustics, and a sidewalk wide enough for spectators, should any appear. And after  a show earlier today right across from the Pearl’s Salt and Straw ice cream parlor, it was kind of fitting to play by the Alberta district’s Salt and Straw.

And wide sidewalks notwithstanding, it’s actually pretty rare for someone to stand very close by to watch my show. Mostly people stand about 50 feet to my right or left, or across the street. And that’s what happened today: a few young men hung around during and after eating at El Nutri Taco (who kindly leave picnic tables out front) before crossing the street to watch from atop the hood of their car. (At least I hope it was their car!) Some people paused on the periphery of my vision, and sent toddler emissaries to drop a dollar in my collection box.

I managed some 45 minutes of music, and decided to stop before my body gave out and the music suffered more than usual. It was just then that a photographer visiting from Canada, one Dallas Whitley, asked if he could photograph me. He is visiting Portland to take two Polaroid photographs of people he meets, one for himself, and one for the subject. In order to give him an action shot, I played one more song, and here’s what he gave me:

Nice pic, Dallas!

At the end of the day, I was pretty tired, but I was glad to have made the most of the weather. I didn’t expect to be playing outside again until June or July, but I’ve already played four outdoor shows this year. Amazing.

By the way, I am still collecting money for my friend Priya’s quest for a handicap accessible van. Please donate if you can!

Weirdly nice weather in Portland and a note of encouragement from the guy who built my drum kit compelled me to take to the streets and play some music. I also have a friend who lives in the Pearl whose bike-only lifestyle has kept him from ever seeing me play, as I tend to stick to the NE Portland area. So I asked him where I could play, and he suggested 23rd Ave. and NW Kearney. And there I went.

The heavy pedestrian traffic is on 23rd Ave. but the sidewalks are narrow, and there aren’t any businesses closed on a Saturday that I can play in front of. So I made my way a little bit west on Kearney and set up on the side wall of a restaurant. I liked the spot for a couple of reasons: out of the way for people who don’t want to hear what I’m doing; and a pretty wide sidewalk in case anyone does want to spectate for a while. (It could happen!)

As I began, the owners of the motorcycles parked in front of my spot appeared and started up the beasts. Noise and smoke obscured my first song, but that’s how street rock goes sometimes. I kept going, watching the nervous minivan driver park in front of me, seemingly concerned that I might get some noise on his car. Not a big deal to me, but sucks for the people watching from across the street, whose view was now completely obstructed.

I would say just about no one stopped to listen, but a lot of people photographed (videoed?) me as they walked by without deviating from the sidewalk of 23rd Ave. This seems kind of tacky to me, as I’m hoping to occasion some interaction with people, but I understand it’s intimidating to approach some nut with a drum set strapped to his back bellowing over his guitar badly in need of a tune. Still, it might have been nice to drop a donation into my bucket, as all money collected goes to my friend Priya’s campaign to buy a handicap accessible van.

Just as I was wrapping up, a family (?) of about 8 people sort of gathered nearby, seemingly interested, but only one person talked with me, while another shot video of me while unconvincingly pretending to be doing something else on her phone. I mentioned Priya’s campaign, and they contributed a few dollars, but I always wonder about that: do people believe it’s a real donation, or are they just rewarding me for concocting such an elaborate–and some might say poorly executed–reason for collecting money like this?

I had been a little thrown by the downhill slant of the sidewalk, which put my bass drum foot just slightly farther from its usual position, but I kept at it for a while. Not wanting to play until I fell over (as nearly happened at my last show) I determined to play for 30 minutes, and if I wasn’t too worn out, maybe I’d make a second stop back at my regular old spot on Alberta.

But that’s a story for another time.

Here’s an inaccurate street-view photo of the restaurant, which didn’t have any outdoor seating today:

After the last show I was relaxing with some friends at the ol’ Florida Room and one of them suggested I should play a show near her house. (Note: Not at, or in, but near.) She said that though it’s a pretty busy thoroughfare, there are wide sidewalks and a fair number of pedestrians. Plus my friends would come out to watch.

Well, I’ve played on the odd street corner in front of a friend’s house before, and it went pretty well, so why not? And really, while I have enjoyed playing to large audiences, or to a steady stream of passers-by, if it comes to it there is a zen to the futility and pointlessness of playing a show to no one, and I was up for that, too, if it went that way.

I won’t deny some tipsiness contributed to my determination the night before at the Florida Room, and so there I was, proclaiming for all to hear, that I would absolutely be at the corner at 4pm the following afternoon. My only out was, “weather permitting.”

Portland weather isn’t always so cooperative, but this day…this day was beautiful. And so, at 3:45pm, tired from a long show the day before, plus a long hike with the dog and Señora Demasiado that morning, I got my stuff together and headed to the spot.

When I arrived, it didn’t feel so warm where I parked, so I walked to a sunny spot and set up. I was already feeling a little light-headed from hunger and fatigue, even before the blinding sun coaxed a steady sweat from me. But those silhouettes on the sidewalk before me wanted a show, and while dying or even fainting during a performance is not a life goal, I bet it would look pretty cool.

So I began to play. These friends were only familiar with the three bear songs I played at my first public performance and I was curious to see how they liked my other, less whimsical songs. So I played, and must have been something of a spectacle, as cars racing by slowed and opened their windows to hear better. And as promised, some random pedestrians hung out for a few minutes here and there to listen.

Just over half an hour later, after playing some old classics and a few songs from this century, I felt too close to fainting to play much longer. One last song, and I was out of there.

While I was packing up, my friend asked if I wanted to come in the house for a beer. Not out front, not merely nearby, actually inside! I guess the show went okay after all!

After Winterfest I figured that would be about it for street rock until warmer, dryer weather next summer. But then there was a Friday afternoon when the weather was unseasonably warm and sunny, and I finished work early, and I decided to use the last half hour before sundown to get out and rock.

I grabbed all my gear, running down the list in my mind over and over, and making sure to remember an important item I keep forgetting, my donations box for my friend Priya’s campaign to raise money for a handicap-accessible van. I forgot the box last time, and blame that absentmindedness for how little I collected for the cause.

After negotiating heavy end-of-week rush hour traffic, I got to the neighborhood. There were plenty of people walking around, just as I expected. I found a distant parking space, gathered my gear, and walked back to the spot. I attached the hi-hat cymbals, and then while reaching for the snare drum, I noticed my shoes. My regular old shoes. The ones I don’t wear while playing because they lack the attachment for the base drum and hi-hat cords. Show canceled.

So the next time the weather was accommodating, I was determined to return to the spot, with all the necessary equipment in place, and make up for the time I was denied. And that was 8 days later, when I got all my equipment together, including the proper shoes, and made my way to Alberta yet again.

I started playing, and while there weren’t quite as many pedestrians as the unsuccessful attempt the week before, it was a decent number of people walking by. I made a few bucks in donations, collected in my generic guitar case, because while I remembered all the stuff I needed to play, this time I forgot the donations box! No wonder it’s taking so long to buy a van for Priya!

Hey, maybe help me make it up to Priya by donating right now?

Now that we’ve had some temperatures below freezing, and it’s starting raining a lot, I figured “outdoor season” was over for the year in one-man-banding. But then the rain let up, temperatures rose, and the dream resurfaced: the dream of playing in St. Johns.

St. Johns is a somewhat remote, isolated neighborhood in Portland, with a kind of magical appeal to me after attending a couple of St. Johns Parades. And then my pals Meghan and John at Stencilitis told me they were going to have a booth at the Winterfest…and would I like to play my one man band there for a while? I couldn’t say no.

Strategically choosing what I hoped would be the warmest time of day, I arrived at the booth around 2pm, and got the show going around 2:30pm. It was nice to be on asphalt again (see Sumner-Albina City Park show) and though it was still kind of cold and grey, I thought the vigorous activity would keep me warm enough.

As soon as I started playing, a woman and her little tyke sat down to watch. I saw a lot more kids passing by as I played, some stopping to watch with their folks. (So much for all the profanity-laced songs I usually play!) I made sure to give a 360° perspective of the drum gizmo on my back, which seems to especially fascinate the youngsters.

I played a little less than an hour, because although I was sweating a bit, my fingers were going numb from the cold. As the last note faded, the person in charge came over and asked why I didn’t want to play in the middle of the agora, so more people could see me. Here I thought I was about to get the boot—that maybe I had just pulled off a perfect crime—and I was being invited to play more. Oh, St. Johns, how you beguile me.

As I mentioned in some earlier posts, my friend Priya is trying to raise money for a handicap-accessible van. I forgot to bring my donation box to the show, but you can always donate on her campaign site. And I hope that you do.

I’ve had my eye on this tiny park nestled between Cherry Sprout Produce and some bar for a couple of months now. Back in August, I was kept away by…I don’t know, something with lots of musicians and spectators for most of the day and night. I might have pushed my way in, or played nearby to take advantage of a ready-made audience, but that’s not really my style.

There’s a pretty good chance that I ended up playing on Alberta instead on that fateful day. So today, in an ironic reversal, I was denied at 21st and Alberta by a folk band playing on the corner across the street from where I intended to play. I saw a banjo, a saxophone, and an upright bass, on top of percussion and a singer. What’s a one man band to do?

What I did was, I slowly cruised Alberta back toward my house, looking for a likely place to play. When I got to Albina, I remembered the park by Cherry Sprout Produce and made a right turn. The park was empty, and the only people in sight were some smoking drinkers (drinking smokers?)  sitting at a table in front of the Red Fox. I asked if they’d mind if I played some music, and they told me to go ahead.

I set up in front of the “stage” and started playing. Some friends showed up, a couple I’d warned, er, notified, and another couple who happened to be heading to Cherry Sprout to pick up some produce. A few pedestrians also lingered, and more people voluntarily brought their drinks out to the Red Fox’s patio, while I was playing.

Something I haven’t had to deal with before is playing on grass. Sidewalks are firm and flat, and keep my heels (and the cables attached there-to) a uniform distance from the bass drum and hi-hat. Grass is soft and uneven, forcing me to compensate much more by continuously adjusting the angle of my backpack drums with respect to my legs. It may not sound like a big deal, but I felt it in my back the next day.

With friends around, I wanted to play the old classics, but also some things they haven’t heard before. But I also didn’t want them to feel obligated to stay the whole time. The cool autumn afternoon was good for my stamina, but not so good for my friends’ resolve to stand somewhat still while watching. It’s weird to be sweating in a  T-shirt while everyone around me is huddling together a bit, scarfed, mittened, and jacketed, and watching the sun set behind me even earlier than it did the day before. So I tried not to keep them too long, and I think the show ended right on time.

Weather is going to be a big factor for upcoming shows. We’re at that time of year in Portland where it’s going to be too cold and rainy for outdoor music. This show felt like seizing the last opportunity of the year, and I tried to make the most of it with a more aggressive solicitation of donations at the end. I’m still contributing all money received to my friend Priya’s campaign to buy a handicap-accessible van, and I hope you make a contribution as well!