Behind Blue Eyes

"But my dreams, they aren't as empty, as my conscience seems to be"- The Who

Blue Water Lounge.  The name conjured up feelings of confusion.  It sounded tropical, but anything with 'Lounge' in the name always elicits in me that strange sense of nostalgia that goes along with 1970's -era bowling alley bar ambiance.

Vato messaged me, "The Open Jam has been moved".   Thursday nights at The Blue Water Lounge.  "Can you make it?" he asks.  "Sure" I answered.  I really liked going out and playing.

Thursday night I get home from work and pack up my bass, a 1976 #Fender Precision.  I look up the venue on my GPS and hop on my motorcycle with my gig bag slung over both shoulders.  Riding across the bridge over the bay I feel the wind drag of my load and begin to regret the decision.  I turn onto the side road and head down a dark stretch north.  The road comes to an abrupt end at the parking lot of the bar.

I go in and grab a seat at the bar.  "Are you a musician?"  The girl behind the bar asks.  "I think so." I answered with my usual uncertainty.  "What are you drinking?"  She asks.  I don't see any draft towers, so I ask what kind of beer she has.  She whips open the cooler door and names the working class brews that  you might expect.  Not really hearing a huge selection, I settle on one.  "Yeungling-please" I say and I notice there are only 2 in the cooler.  I guess this is not a craft brew place.

I spin around on my bar stool and say hi to the usual group of musicians who are setting up their equipment.  I turn back to ask if the bar serves food, and the bartender started laughing.  "No, but the pizza guys know where we are." She responds.  At this point I am internally debating if the bartender is messing with me or if she is just a bit sassy.  I decide that she probably has to be a bit rough to keep the troublemakers in check.  "I can read minds, you know." She says.  "I hope not." I gulp, and we both laugh. I ask  if she is the owner.  "Gawd no, I do bookkeeping usually."  She replies. I find out her name is Rae and I introduce myself.

The performances commence, I mostly sit and watch.  I am a bit nervous playing with all the new faces I see.  Vato and The Dude introduce me.  At this point there are more people on stage than in the audience.  A musician named D.J. that I have never met before greets me.  "Do you know my deal?" I ask. "What is your deal?" He responds.  I explain my limited experience and talent level.  He immediately calls out "Rock and Roll" by Led Zeppelin.  No problem, I think.  All through the song, I can hear something wrong, and he hears it too.  After the song he says I was playing in the wrong key, I agree with the caveat that the bass I was handed was out of tune.  He tells me to tune it first next time.

Outside, in the darkness a grown man on a BMX bike is singing Ozzy.  I look out the open door and spot him.  He comes into the bar and shakes my hand as if greeting me from a long passing of years. His says his name is Curtis.  "People, people, people" he chants in his best Ozzy impression.  He gets on stage and sings a few songs, playing acoustic guitar on some of them and drums on others. The highlight of his performance is him playing bass solo on stage and singing "Moving in Stereo"by The Cars.  He comes off stage and I tell him how much I enjoyed it, he tells me he will teach it to me sometime and then leaves on his bike.

D.J. then approaches me and suggests spending time on Youtube to learn more songs. Just as I am nodding in agreement, a lady barges in between us and asks if we want any lumpia.  They smell and look like egg rolls, but I find out she drives to all the bars and sells these from her car.  D.J. says, "I'm Out".  I follow suit, but not before a sketch artist named Paulette asks me to sign this:

The back wall of the stage is decorated with vinyl LP covers, I thought it was very fitting that she included the Chicago album being that I am from there, originally.  I went back there a few times to play until they shut the doors for good.


As usual, when I arrived home, my wife asked "How did it go?"
"I signed my first autograph" I answered with pride.

What else could I say?



Stir up that MONKEYDUST!

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