I have never been to Easthampton, MA, never mind Luthier's Co-op but I highly recommend both.
Mom and I make the rainy drive out to Easthampton and it takes about an hour and a half to get there and she asks me if I’ve ever been here and like most places, the answer is no. That’s kind of my life - driving to some city or town that I’ve never been to, setting up, playing some music for folks that have never heard of me, hopefully selling a few cds and making a few new fans and then pack up and go do the same thing somewhere else.
It’s truly an odd existence.
It’s always like showing up to a party where you don’t know anyone and trying to get everyone to like you while being the best version of you and just happy that folks are even here.
Before I start, Scott and Sue come through the door and I’m blown away. I saw yesterday that he was reading my tour diary and today they decided to surprise me. And I am surprised! I haven’t seen them in years. Scott and I were linemates in high school lacrosse. He took faceoffs, I got the ground balls. And he and Sue have been together since, I think, we were sophomores. That’s a long time and inspiring as well. That’s a long time together! And they are moving and shaking and they are only living in western Mass for like another week so the timing was fantastic. I couldn’t believe ANYONE I knew would be at this gig at all and in they walk. Mind blown.
I’m constantly reminded of the most amazing quote on living by Ray Wylie Hubbard: “The days that I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations, I have really good days.”
Luthier’s Co-Op is also a guitar repair/store and there are tons of instruments on the walls. I ask my Mom “Ok, you get to pick one guitar, which one do you like?” And we walk around as she looks at them and goes right to the nylon string acoustic guitars. “I like the design on this one.” and points to the rosette around the sound hole. The name on the headstock didn’t matter, it’s all about the pretty rosette. I point to a, admittedly unattractive, black and white Danelectro. Mom is not impressed. I like it because I would drop it into DADGAD tuning and rock out some Zep on it but that’s a different aesthetic altogether.
Stephanie is doing sound here tonight and she does a great job, it’s a long wide room and the PA speakers are great for the audience but I can’t seem to find my sweet spot on stage where I can hear things. Is what it is, start strumming, you'll find it.
When I start playing, I have an audience of five people and I know three of them.
And it’s a guitar store/repair/bar - and I kind of go into some big rock and I’m not hearing myself well and I screw up the looper in Cold War and I’m just annoyed at myself. Friends that haven’t seen me in years are here and I don’t want to…you know, suck.
APB is good here and the thing that I love about this song is how flexible it is, it can fit anywhere. It's a nursery rhyme about crime as my friend Jennifer says. And it's fun tonight and sung to Scott.
More folks come in and I play a quiet one or two but then go back to some of the bigger numbers in my set. The room has filled up a bunch as I get towards the end of my set and I give it hell and I’m feeling pretty good about it but then…
…the next act goes on.
And they are a trio of acoustic guitar, square neck dobro and piano. None of the songs are even remotely fast but they are all beautifully constructed and well written and performed flawlessly.
The Bob Chabot Trio is killing it softly.
And it’s like a songwriting workshop, just brilliant songs one after another and now I’m feeling like crap. I played the wrong set of songs here.
I mean, I couldn’t really have known. Well, maybe I could’ve. Normally I can read a room pretty well. I have enough material that I can adjust to most circumstances but sometimes, you know, I fail. Tonight I was like Tim Tebow and just failed to read the defense and I just kept running the same damn read option play.*
But Bob Chabot is owning this room. He’s quiet, he’s personable and the folks here know him, know his songs. He does a poll at the end of the set for which song he’s going to play and when they say “Mrs Johnson” he ties it back to another of his songs where Mrs Johnson (the person) is related to a character in a previous song and then says “If it weren’t for family, I’d have no songs.” And it’s like DAMN! I’m stealing that line. Granted, hardly any of my songs are about family directly, but there is one or two.
And I could’ve played those damn songs tonight. And now I’m driving home annoyed at myself.
I mean, the set I played was fine. It was good. I played alright. I didn’t sing at the top of my ability tonight and that’s annoying but you just look at what you do and say “shit, I could’ve been better.” That is all.
As my mom would say “Tomorrow’s another day, Scarlet.”**
But did I tell you that Bob Chabot was amazing? And his dobro player too, who’s name I’m forgetting. I want to say Martin Denny but no, that’s wrong. Martin Denny did avant garde ‘exotic’ music in the 50s and 60s.
I talk to Bob and not Martin Denny after the set and tell them how much I liked it and I even talk about bending the slide and his great dobro technique.
In any case - I would very much like to return to this little town and this little venue/guitar store some time again. This place is a gem.
Tomorrow night I drive south 125 miles to New Haven, CT. and Never Ending Books. Please tell your friends, good seats are still available. I got fun for the whole family.***
xo
Goodnight,
~Bobbo
*Ok, I know I really jumped my typical metaphors on this one but it is solid. Tim Tebow was a quarterback incapable of reading the defense as a player and he had one play that he liked to run over and over where he rolled out of the pocket and either pitched the ball to the half-back behind him or ran it himself. It is terrible football to watch and personally think it is the most mind-numbingly boring play ever created.
**While I’ve always known this quote was from Gone With The Wind, I never really thought about the context of the quote until RIGHT NOW. The south has lost the Civil War and the Scarlet O’Hara’s *slave* is telling her to not be depressed because tomorrow is another day and it may be better. The sheer irony, is it irony? I mean. What the what? That is a messed up quote. Was it supposed to be humor or sarcasm from Mammy? Too much to unpack.
***This is a direct quote from Jim Carr in Slap Shot.