It’s after nine when I climb out of bed and make my way down to a coffee shop to get some tea. On my way back I see folks gathering with guitar cases by the…I forget what it’s called but it’s next to the wind chimes from yesterday. An executive decision has to be made. I didn’t get a shower yesterday and I really need one. If I go back to Chunk’s place I can get a shower in and then be ready for the rest of the day but if I go to the song circle I likely won’t be able to fit one in before my workshop and other activities.
Shower it is. There’s little quirks here like when shaving, the bathroom mirror is technically behind you when you’re at the sink so it’s clean the razor and then spin around to shave, spin back around to clean the razor, spin back around and shave. Also, I had my wool scarf on last night and the knot it tied in my hair has to be dealt with.
Back down town and I’m stopped by someone on the street telling me how much they liked my set last night and Bad Decisions in particular. The song circle is winding down and I’m there in time for the second to last song. I take out my guitar and they say “Bobbo, why don’t you lead us in a song.”
Jesus, I can’t just walk in and do that. I’ve missed everything that’s been played. Sure, the likelihood of me leading the group in something they’ve already done is…unlikely but not impossible. I bow out and opt to strum along on the last song. I’m actually really bummed I missed this event. It looked like a great bonding and community type thing.
Walking to the other end of the street and I get an egg croissant from the “other” coffee shop and I’m not here to pick favs, they both have their pluses. Andy, the drummer with Todd Grebe and Cold Country, has rented a golf cart and his kids are hanging off it and he offers to drive my guitar up to the school where the workshops are taking place. It’s a nice gesture as walking with guitar has gotten heavy.
I think it’s an elementary school but likely is more grades than that. It’s also the place where folks are supposed to go in times of a tsunami and the roads all show that as the evacuation route.
This is the fourth or fifth time I’ve given my workshop on creating better dynamics and rhythmic soloing for solo performers and it goes well. I get to show some inversions and how to use familiar chord shapes to, well, if you want to know - you should attend a class! In any case - it goes well.
Class is in session.
Then we all get a community lunch at the school complete with veggies and rhubarb cobbler. House of Hamill are fun to hang out with and we discuss things Allentown, PA like the Hamilton Family Diner or the Ham Fam to locals. And Caroline is from Asheville and my cousin is in Asheville. I’ve been everywhere man, I’ve been everywhere.
There is also a discussion of what to play for the finale with everyone getting on stage and playing together. A song is chosen that I’ve never heard before. Sometimes I forget that I really do come from the rock and roll background and a lot of the folk standards are not among my repertoire. If someone was like “Hey, let’s play ‘Can’t Hardly Wait’ or ‘Just like Heaven, 867-5309’ I’d be the first chiming in with a lead but this is not that thing. I am grateful that Wagon Wheel is not chosen as the finale. Someone asks me if I want to sing a verse of the chosen song and I clearly do not, I’ve only just heard the song we’re playing and even now, I don’t remember the name of it.
But play guitar on it? Yeah, that’s easy. I can do that.
Andy starts in on me - “you need to play electric guitar in the finale.”
“What? No.”
“C’mon. Sadi brought all those amps and an electric guitar. You GOT TO.”
We laugh. We’ll see I tell him. I don’t really need to be *that* guy. (Foreshadowing)
The festival is starting back up and Andy tells Sadi.
“Bobbo is going to play electric in the finale.”
I think Sadi is more excited than I am about this. She brought these guitar amps and guitars and so far they really haven’t been played.
I’m playing right after JT and right before House of Hamill today. Still not sure what I should do but watching some of the other music last night gives me license to let it rock a little more. I join JT on stage for his last song, “Strange Song” and it’s fun. He gets everyone singing along.
The stage sound again today is fantastic and I launch into things. Tell some stories, make some noise and do a good bit of rocking starting with Around Here, Mass, Cold War, APB, Angelia and more stories. At then end I retune my guitar and tell everyone how fantastic this weekend has been and how I’m not very woo woo spiritual but I recognize that this is a special moment in time. I tell everyone to wiggle their toes and just remember this moment. We will never all be in this moment ever again. I end with the Stones’ No Expectations. “I’ve got no expectations to pass this way again.” And I think of my buddy Victor as I play it. Life is precious man. Enjoy every sandwich is what Warren Zevon would say.
Backstage is a big beautiful carrot cake with pecan topping. I don’t know who made it but they decide to raffle it off tonight. When House of Hamill get off stage they are enlisted to write up and cut up a hundred or so numbers on pieces of paper. The organizers then go around selling these raffle slips of paper to the festival goers while Rose from HoH does her absolute best QVC selling of this cake. You’d think it was made by Mary Berry herself the way Rose talks it up. Jamal from HuDost and I have just started talking and realizing we have mutual friends and a love of the music of the Church. Byron comes and finds me and gives me three raffle tickets. “You should win the cake.” He tells me.
Jamal and I are full in it as they call the number for the cake. I excuse myself and make my way to the stage. Byron stops me.
“Didn’t I give you number 59?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“You WON!”
By the time I get to the stage they have pulled another number and that guy is there and he is stoked to have won this cake. I can’t believe I won and missed it. He looks at me and sort of reluctantly offers me the cake.
“No man, I wasn’t paying attention. You won it.”
He looks relieved and disappears with the cake.
Andy’s daughter looks at me.
“I knew you were going to win the cake. And you let him take it after winning it.”
“He’s right over there. I’m sure if you asked, he’d give you some.”
“He’s the guy that stole Bobbo’s cake.” She says and crosses her arms in disappointment.*
It’s time for the finale and Sadi gets out a bright blue Fender Stratocaster and hands it to me. The strings are old and rusty enough that I must be careful not to cut myself or else I’d need a tetanus shot. She sets me up with a bright red guitar cable. “The cable matches my leggings.” She tells me.
On stage I stand in back and turn on the Carvin. It has a graphic EQ and I just go full Kirk Hammett and set it to the metal V position, crank the gain and adjust the master. With the guitar volume on 1, I can be heard playing rhythm. I will pick my moment. Andy is laughing next to me on the drums.
Oh look. Turns out I am that guy.
The finale is sounding great. I can’t really see who is singing or doing what. Terry has given up the bass and is standing next to me. JT takes a verse, the two violins play a unison type of solo that sounds beautifully Appalachian and then someone motions to me to take a solo. I turn up the volume and launch into a butchered two hand tapping metal solo. A few artificial harmonics but sadly no whammy bar. Sadi is right in front of me snapping pictures. My 8 bars are over, I turn the volume down and disappear into the back.
Goodnight all. I hope I haven’t worn out my welcome and really hope to return someday. Maybe next time with Tracy and Matt and totally give it The Fallen Stars treatment. Would love to bring my mom Linda along too. She would’ve loved this whole weekend.
Eight months ago I hadn’t even heard of Seldovia Arts Council and now I feel part of this community, if only for a weekend.
The bands have been invited back to the other end of the street for a spaghetti dinner. I pack up what I have left and head that way. It’s a slow moving parade at 11 pm walking right down the middle of the street here.
The house is beyond beautiful, the view of the bay incredible and the other houses on stilts look like a postcard. We’re all hanging out eating our shared spaghetti. I’m getting a bit more of that - I can’t believe that a decision I made at 17 years old to pick up a guitar has led to me being in a place like this with all these wonderful people. I take a minute and go out on the deck by myself. It’s just past midnight but appears more like dusk. There’s two people passing by in a kayak. I look down at them.
“Hey Bobbo!”
I know the folks on the kayak.**
Back inside we’re all wishing we had cake.
This is midnight in Seldovia, Alaska
On the way back to Chunk’s place I stop at the library and check my messages. It’s like 1:30 am. The streets are empty and it starting to get bright out again. I set two alarms because I don’t want to miss the 9 am ferry.
I haven’t left yet but I’m already missing Seldovia.
See you next time.
xo
* Over the next 12 hours, she will return no less than two dozen times to tell me how sad she is that I didn’t win the cake.
**Turns out it’s Andy and his son out kayaking. Still weird and unexpected.