Outsider

 

The rock star who insists he is not a rock star snoozes next to me while brightness waxes through the ill-shaded hotel window. He recovers from last night’s show, a fun and intense expression of his religion. You can tell when someone “brings it” when the experience epitomizes intensity and grace. The physical manifestation of his craft integrated with his ability to take in what is going on around him - what the singer is doing, what the bass player is doing, how the audience is responding - comprises the product people want to experience. No, he’s not the lead guy or founder, but he is not on that stage by accident. This is the result of a theme that permeates every aspect of his life. 

I am an outsider to this scene. I absorbed myself in a different world than this for most of my life, but have always nurtured and encouraged the musicians and artists around me, especially my own son. Few pulled the trigger on those dreams. This time the experience is more intimate. This time, the encouragement is to go farther and deeper into what is already being done. 

In this journey I get to interact with people who are playing regularly at clubs in Los Angeles and surrounding communities. No pretense here: I don’t know shit about the music industry. I am an observer. I am absorbing. 

And you know me. I seize every opportunity to study people. Not just for future characters for tales and books, (Yes, Jeremy, I am still working on Mars book 2. Insert appropriate excuses here.), but to better serve and understand the people I care about and therefore the human experience. 

Obviously, his world is full of personalities worth appreciating. 

There is some cross pollination of industries in the people who choose this walk, like our subject artist who is submerged in electronics repair by day. Not many people are just one thing. (Except maybe Pat Todd.) Similar to my own associates, the music makers do what they do during the day so that they can feed their passion. Amplifiers and song writing contrasts propellers and avgas. 

I understand the fundamental nature of the people on that stage and their colleagues who show up to show support. They are the ones who don’t just dream. They make their world happen. Big part or small. Sincere or just for show. These are the doers. They’re the ones bringin’ it into the small hours. 

Then gear is broken down, encased in beat up containers and stowed, all the while and after they do what my ilk refers to as a debrief. “I screwed this part up. That thing was really good. Next time let’s do this other thing.” Cigarettes are smoked. Maybe another drink. Then one guy’s kid has soccer practice tomorrow so he has to go and everyone parts ways until the next rehearsal. 

The light streaming through the part of the blackout curtains that won’t close all the way is full bright now, and the rock star-not-rock star stirs. There is hotel coffee in my immediate future, breakfast, and then probably a trip to a second hand bookstore, consignment shop, or other joyful mundane adventure. I know that whatever it turns out to be, there’s a 90% chance of vinyl.