About an Eight of the Way There—Part Two

Who's ready for Milwaukee!!!! Ok, but before we kicking off a rollicking two-show February mini-tour of Milwaukee (yes, it warrants a "mini-tour" classification because more than one show occurred, so there!), I should mention briefly Gig 27, at good ol' Burrito Rojo in Turners Falls, MA. Somehow there's a rule that the farther I have to drive for a gig, the more fiercely the obligatory ice storm rages. But I arrived there, and returned home, alive. So I could go to . . .

Gig 28: MILWAUKEE. My first-ever Milwaukee, Wisconsin, show was at Bremen Cafe in the Riverwest area. For all of you who are anticipating a dramatic Francie-almost-got-electrocuted story after the last post's cliffhanger, it's kind of up to you to decide whether I made false promises of excitement. I arrived at the venue nice and early, and was glad to find an actual stage, next to an actual bar, with actual local brews—and I was happy to meet my opener for the evening, the lovely and highly talented Lisa Ridgely (that's her in the photo that's not of me; wow, that sounded narcissistic somehow). What I was less pleased about, however, was the realization not only that there was no equipment set up (being on tour [okay, mini-tour], I had confirmed in advance that I could avail myself of a house PA) but also that no one there had any suggestions about how the system worked or should be set up.
And here's where the electrocution comes in—when I say the equipment wasn't set up, I mean that whoever played there last just left everything in a dusty, haphazard pile. I have never had to shift through so many janky wires, while perching on a rickety stage, hauling equipment from an angle that I'm pretty sure all doctors would agree is the least good for my back. When I was plugging in equipment I was sure I was a goner (sometimes I closed my eyes when plugging stuff in—it seemed the impending electrical shock would be less painful if I couldn't actually see my bones through my skin [as everyone knows can happen, based on Saturday morning cartoons]). But we all survived. Lisa played a great set, and my set turned out OK, after I was informed that I had the bass up too high. (I'm sorry, it's hard to sound check yourself from the stage without a monitor, and frankly even if I could have found one in the pile of wires and dust I wasn't about to tempt fate by plugging in an extra piece of equipment.) Don't get me wrong, though, I had a lot of fun at this show, and it was a confidence booster to know that I can set up a random system from scratch in relatively little time, albeit with multiple technical difficulties. (By the way, all the photos here are courtesy of John O'Hara, who donated his time to making us feel like rock stars by taking photos at Bremen.)

Gig 29: Just when I thought my Wisconsin trip would be a one-gig stop, Lisa invited me to be a part of the exciting "Dark Show" at Linneman's, also in Milwaukee's Riverwest. This concept show, organized by Jason Fields, involved a rapid succession of songwriters, plus a display from local fine artists, all with no spotlights (hence the show's title; I actually didn't get why this was the "Dark Show" at the outset, but gradually caught on when I realized I could actually see the audience from the stage). I have to say, Milwaukee has a very cool arts scene, and I'm always impressed when a few people get together to make a show—and a scene—happen (this includes the owner of the venue, who contributed stellar sound engineering skills). So that's my tour. What's next? I'll be in Western Massachusetts for a couple of months at least, but I hear my West Coast roots calling—will I return to the San Francisco Bay Area this summer? Will I mosey down to check out the Los Angeles scene (I spent a lot of my childhood in Southern California, it still feels just a tiny bit like home)? These are questions that time, and my ability to self-motivate, surely will answer.

About an Eighth of the Way There--Part One

This has been an exciting time for me gig-wise—so exciting I didn't want to ruin the moment by defining it in writing. And then I thought, that's stupid, so . . .

Gig 25: Remember 2010? Back in December, my dad, my sister Lillian, and I played an Outlandish Landsharks gig at the Rendezvous in Turners Falls, MA. We had a good turnout, AND the sound guy (I think I remember his name, but in case I’m wrong I’d rather not give specifics) taught me something cool about how pre-amps work. Namely, that my little guitar has a propensity for sounding like a tin can with rubber bands looped over the top when the PA is not handled properly. So I may have to splurge at some point on a really good little pre-amp. I love my guitar, but every so often someone hates on it so bad. Once someone said it sounded like one of those fold-up guitars for traveling. Now . . . I don’t deny that “backpacker” guitars can sound great, because they can. But that’s kind of like telling someone her Audi looks like a Hot Wheels. Or a chef that his oven really gives the EZ-Bake a run for its money. Haters.

OK, I played two radio spots in support of Gig 26 below . . . should these count toward the gig total? I don’t know. For now, I’ll label them . . .

Radio Spot 1: January, very early morning—Alan Sax kindly invited me to play and be interviewed on “Blue Monday” on WMUA. Nothing says rock star like wandering in the bleary, early hours to do a radio spot.

Radio Spot 2: January, less early morning—Lee Larcheveque’s “Acoustic Café.” Somehow the conversation turned to pygmy hippos. I was OK with it.

Gig 26: THE IRON HORSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (January 23, 2011, Northampton, MA). This was such a huge deal for me on so many levels, even going beyond the facts that (1) Shawn Mullins, my hero, played there once, and (2) it’s a famous venue in the grand East Coast music scene scheme. For one thing, this was the first time I had to sell consignment tickets in advance—that is, I was out peddling (or “hustling,” as it was referred to on numerous occasions). I was terrified, mostly because with tickets at $15 bucks a pop, I was thinking gosh, I wouldn’t buy tickets to my own show. But then lots of people bought tickets—I don’t think there was anyone who could physically be there who wasn’t there.

For another thing, there was a dressing room. A DRESSING ROOM. There were couches, there was a coffee dispenser, there was a band menu. . . . Did I secretly take cell phone pictures? Yes. Did I think I was Johnny Cash in “Walk the Line”? You bet. Was I caught doing a victory dance à la Hugh Grant in “Love Actually”? Surprisingly, no.

Finally, and perhaps most important, I had the opportunity to open for the extremely talented and hilarious Vance Gilbert. He gave me some good advice about how to pace myself during a set, probably the most useful pointer being just to take a breath and not freak out. And we laughed for an hour and a half in the green room before the show started. I will be ecstatic if we share a bill again in the future.

The only downside of playing the Iron Horse is, well . . . it’s a huge deal, but it’s not like I have a Grammy now or anything. Having seen even some of my very favorite artists lately have backslides (sometimes trying too hard for a hit, sometimes going too self-indulgent), I know that being a “musician” in the “music business” is a constant battle. I don’t mean this in a “suffer for art” way, just a “wow, even a big break is just a possibility, not a guarantee,” way.

See the video below--it's my Iron Horse finale (a performance of “Anchor and Shield”). In Part Two of this post, to follow in a few days . . . MILWAUKEE!! (Spoiler: I almost get electric shocked.)

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Grumble! I don't want to go into it now, but I once played a horrible, horrible gig (in the room shown to the right). Despite the organizer's claim that the show would have musicians from lots of genres, it turns out it was a classical music concert in which, by some cruel joke, I was expected to perform. And because the program (What shows have programs? Classical shows. It should have been a tip-off.) listed my set, I couldn't cut it short or choose songs that would not appall the dressed up, overwhelmingly smug audience.

Having done a good job repressing this memory for almost a year, I had it dredged up again at gig #18 at the Rendezvous in Turners Falls, MA. I was under the impression that I was opening for a group of very talented folk/roots musicians, who were going to play a technically accomplished, folk jam session. I found out only a few days before that they thought we were all just going to play round-robin style, myself included. I dropped hints that I'd thought I was the opening act, and that I certainly don't jam (I just don't; every time I play with a bunch of guys I feel railroaded [I say "guys" because I feel like jamming is more of a guy thing, maybe that's sexism]; and when people jam on my songs without practicing first, the songs get messed up.) Long story short, I sat with my hands folded on stage for 3/4 of the time while the other musicians played and jammed on their songs and I felt like a failure, and then for 1/4 of the time I played incongruous music that was completely out of keeping with the show's roots music theme.

People told me afterward that I didn't seem incompetent or look upset, but I wanted to throw up the whole time. Lesson learned--I'm going to communicate my needs before getting into shows from now on. I don't mind playing with other people, I just like to practice first. On a lighter note, I have a website now, www.franciejones.com. It's homegrown, and definitely needs more work over time (it would help if I had something other than paint to edit my pictures). But seriously, thanks for sharing in this little rant with me. I feel a little better now. Sniffle.

Audiences Can Vary: Probably the Most Important Lesson

Approximately one half of my Scotland II tour is done, unless anyone randomly asks me to play more shows (hint!?).

On May 30th, a Sunday, I played a set at Pivo Pivo in Glasgow. Now, a Sunday show, according to my personal observations, can really be a mixed bag. My feeling, at least in the States, is Sundays in bars are either very quiet (i.e., three people pestering the bartender to make tea; yeah, OK, one person, that's me, "lapsang souchong, please"). That being said, Sundays can also be the day when all the riff raff come out and give you a hard time (there is a particular open mic whose name I will not mention that fell on a Sunday and was godawful--weary, angry people rambling in, doing shots alone, really not the best atmos. for sharing angsty love songs). Pivo Pivo sort of fell between those two extremes for me. Kenzie Mac was a friendly host with a lovely voice, so that made the night more awesome, but I wish I'd known it was a bank holiday weekend (read: three[four?]-day weekend) before I got there. Lots of people just there to get wasted, other musicians playing that night reading the newspaper studiously during my set (OK, one, you're too drunk to read; two, bad form, peeps). Plus I got paranoid that my voice sounded echo-y (always traumatic; this belief also was unfounded, the sound was done really well) . . . so . . . I'm a little grumpy about it. Also, I noticed that all my blog posts are unequivocally cheery, so I thought a little irritability might be refreshing. Thoughts?

On June 2nd I played probably one of my favorite gigs of the year, Secret CDs XXI at the Phoenix Cellar Bar in Edinburgh. Its a show designed around CD sales, thus giving me an excuse to harass people to purchase my Oneword and Other Wonders EP, which I would have done anyway. I'm really not used to having such a (relatively) large audience be so attentive--seriously, I almost wanted someone to start a bar fight or something. Apparently when I actually get the attention I crave I immediately want it diverted elsewhere. OK, that's kind of an exaggeration, gimme attention. My only complaint was this: usually only about eight people come to my shows, so when I sell two CDs I'm like, "Yayy, I just sold to 25% of my audience!" But there were thirty to forty people there, so when I only sold four CDs I was like, "Damn, there goes my average." Of course, many of the AMAZING people who came to hear me (well, they might have come to hear the other polished and engaging musicians, but I think a few came based on my coercion) already had CDs, so I should probably stop trying to find a problem with what was actually an extremely enjoyable gig that was run really well and that had a super-good sound system. [[Correction--five CDs sold, yayyyy!]]

Those were gigs 9 and 10, respectively, meaning I have 190 to go. Arrrrg . . . goal . . . so . . . far . . . away.

Gig Six . . . There Was Literally Candy

My sister Lillian and I just played at Dick and Jane's general store (www.dickandjanesgeneralstore.com) in Walpole, MA (April 24th, 2010). I will say at the outset, it's probably not the best gig sitch when there's a carnival (and a pretty sweet looking one, too) set up about a block away. Foot traffic was way down from what would normally have been a hopping Saturday afternoon.



That being said, we had a blast for the following reasons:
1. We tested out our little sound system for the first time ever, and it was AWESOME.
2. The promoter, Andy, not only had designed a fun poster for us (making use of some of my art on Myspace) but also stayed for the whole gig. Dedication to the arts = win.
3. We got free, storemade fudge = double win.

Also, my demo CDs are for sale in the store now. My empire is expanding.

Gig total: 6 down, 94 to go before stardom.

More shows posted here.

And then there were 5: Burrito Rojo

Gig five was at a new Mexican (or "Mixican," as the owner, JD, put it) place in Turners Falls, MA, called Burrito Rojo (www.myspace.com/burritorojo). I had the "Rojo" for red part down, but I just assumed it meant "Red Burrito" until I had it explained to me that actually "Burrito" is a little burro, i.e. "Little Red Donkey." Aww! I'm a sucker for cute animals.

Anyway . . .

The crowd was small but nice (although I got scared because I (voluntarily but semi-coerced!) had to lead a chorus of "Happy Birthday" for a sweet young lady in the audience. I'm sorry, but singing a cappella "Happy Birthday" on a mic with the poor audience trying to sing along is just bound to be awkward. No one can hear anyone in that situation. In everyone else's defence, I'm the only musician on the planet (anyone else with me? anyone?) who doesn't know the song on the guitar. Fail.

My dad, a.k.a T. Fredric Jones will be playing at Burrito Rojo on May 6th (he's really good--I cover his songs all the time), and I'll be playing there again on May 14th. It's not just because I got a free avocado taco out of the deal last time. I swear.

Next installment should be GIG SIX: At Dick and Jane's General Store (http://stores.dickandjanesgeneralstore.com) in Walpole, MA, on Saturday, April 24th, 1 pm. How could it NOT be awesome? Check out other shows at www.myspace.com/franciejones.

Scotland: Some Gigs Were Played

This blog will serve a dual purpose: first, I will endeavor to provide regional information on good places to play for singer-songwriters and other (mainly acoustic) artists. Second, I'm on an epic quest. An indie record exec basically told me that no matter how good my music (www.myspace.com/franciejones) might be, I really need to play about two hundred gigs before talking to him again. So here I go. These are the gigs--all in Scotland so far.

1. Harley's in Bathgate; www.myspace.com/harleysbathgate; February 28, 2010. It's not an 18+ venue, which means there were a lot of 18- es there. This would have been all right, except it meant the bands with which I was sharing the night were really angry, angsty teen bands. I know when I was playing they were thinking, my gosh, how did it come to this. I was sort of thinking that too as, at 24, I felt ancient and decrepit playing for the proverbial spotty youths. They clapped but I think they also might have hated me.

2. The Liquid Ship in Glasgow; www.myspace.com/thefreecandysessions; March 2, 2010. What an awesome venue! The audience was small but the other musicians playing that night were quite fun (www.myspace.com/danluck; www.myspace.com/graham.robertson). The sound engineer Patrick was particularly thoughtful--the man supplied a guitar stand, just saying.

3. The Tron in Edinburgh; www.myspace.com/outofthebedroom; March 4, 2010. I featured at their originals-only open mic. It's been around forever, tons of variety in the music, Nicky Carder hosted (www.myspace.com/nickycarder). It's a slightly scary gig, to the extent that the audience is a bit captive. Being paranoid, I assume a default reception of hostility (probably should work on that). No, seriously, it was good times.


Next up: the Black Moon Music Lounge in Belchertown, Massachusetts.
Gig Count: 3 down, 197 to go.