A Performance of Sorts

Last night I had a rather neat opportunity. For the past month or so, I've been going to McGinnis occasionally on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Well, I've been going on other days, too, when it's convenient. But on those particular evenings, a guy by the name of John Vermilye ("Johnny V") plays guitar and sings. He's got a good set that covers a lot of bases, including folk, early rhythm & blues, and classic rock. There's an emphasis on acts like Paul Simon, Neil Young, The Beatles, that sort of thing. It's a relaxed, laid back, and enjoyable atmosphere.

Johnny graciously offered to have me fill in on his break with a few songs that I had worked up to a respectable level, having never heard me play. (Crazy!) I was both nervous and excited. See, it has been over a year and a half since the last time I played guitar or sang in front of anyone. Yep. For the last, oh, nearly a decade, I've been in and out of bands, playing acoustic and electric; doing covers and originals; classic rock to modern pop to jazz; basement shows, battle of the bands, open mics; from high school through college. But since I graduated college, I sort of lost touch. I've been out of it so long, I don't even know how to get back into it, or what to play, and I've become pretty shy about my playing. Not that I wasn't before, but I guess now it feels more pronounced, more of an obstruction to the process entirely.

When he asked if I'd like to play, I had a feeling that it was something like fate knocking. I felt obliged to accept. I have a tendency to view things in this light right now; if something great comes along, I just accept it, embrace it, and move with it, figuring that all paths have led me here.

(To be fair, I actually had to turn him down the first time he offered, because I'd already had two pints of Dogfish Head IPA. And that does not make me into a better guitarist, by any means.)

So I spent a few days over the past couple weeks trying to work up several songs that I felt comfortable playing. I showed up at McGinnis last night and Johnny asked if I was interested in playing that night, and I said I was.

About an hour and a half later, I was sitting on the barstool with my stupid little book of lyrics (because after all this time I still can't get through most songs without a reminder), guitar and pick in hand, with faces of people I don't know watching me. (There were a few faces I did know, too. Thanks to Casey, Shelby, Kristen, and Rachel for being there!) It was a familiar feeling, but it also felt kind of strange and new. I got nervous all over again. I played my three songs. There were a few mistakes. Nothing fell apart or sounded like a disaster, though. Mostly just a flubbed note, a bit of rushing, or an extraneous beat to fit in a syllable because I dragged on a phrase. All in all, it could have been quite a bit worse. I got some compliments on "Clementine", which was nice.

I don't feel like I'm any closer to figuring everything out. I'm still somewhat perplexed as to how my life is supposed to make any sense regarding music, and what role it will ultimately play. But I feel that I at least took a good step last night toward continuing to rediscover the things that used to give me such pleasure and joy.