"Life w/o Makeup" at The Berkeley Rep Theatre, my third week of shows

Tuesday

Back on the bandstand. I learned tonight that "Life w/o Makeup" has added one more performance at the end of the run. So now our final show will be Sunday, November 13. 

We had some laughs behind the curtain prior to showtime talking about Kenny G. I don't how he came up in conversation. Sascha and Alex proceeded to rip into him. I have no problems with Kenny G. He seems to have become a totem for all that ails the music business (i.e. "That guy is such a sell-out. In his songs, he's playing constantly but he never says anything. His whole act is cheesy showboating.") Whatever. I don't care for any of his work but I respect his ability to make a living as a musician. Some people are more ready to sail down that "sell-out" route than others. Credit to Kenny for being able to sleep at night and for hauling in sacks of cash over the years.

Sascha told a story about how several years ago he received a last-minute call from a booking agent asking if Sascha could fill in on bass in Kenny G's band for a concert in Mountain View. Apparently the regular bassist had taken severely ill. Sasha contemplated his decision for a few moments -- he admitted that weighing heavily on his mind was the question "What will my musician friends think of me if I take this gig...?" -- before turning it down. He was already booked for another job that evening, so that made his decision easy.

Wednesday

I made the mistake of bringing up the "Occupy Oakland" protests with one of my bandmates this evening. On my BART commute home last night the Oakland City Center/12th St. station was closed due to civil unrest. Police had surrounded the "Occupy" encampment at Frank Ogawa Plaza (which the protesters have sagely rebranded "Oscar Grant Plaza") and were rooting protesters out of their campsites.

Living in a small town like Castro Valley (small by CA bay area standards, anyway) one can be insulated from all manner of protest movements. People don't participate here; instead they raise their families quietly, for better or worse. So I got on the computer last night to see what the hubbub looked like. I found plenty of photo galleries and it all looked familiar.

[Editor’s note: I wrote this entry before learning that protester and Iraq war veteran Scott Olsen suffered a skull fracture Tuesday night via something tossed by a policeman. The OPD P.R. department now have a lot of questions to answer. Why do they continually make horrendous errors in such high-profile situations?]

The police are being viewed as villains for doing their job. Yes, ultimately they deployed tear gas canisters on the mob. But I feel little sympathy for the protesters because 1)they were warned repeatedly that if they didn’t disperse teargas would be deployed on them 2)their motives and desires are vague and 3)a lot of their statements sound like whining. I firmly believe that everyone has opportunity in this country. I also believe that many people who live here are unthankful for all manner of daily blessings. They take fruit for granted.

Amongst the dozens of photos I viewed last night the one that arrested me (pardon the pun in this context) most was one of a young female protester holding a handmade placard that read thus:

"All my heroes kill cops"

I'm sorry occupiers, but like any team endeavor, your movement is only as strong as your weakest member. And it appears that we may have found her. A poor, unfortunate soul indeed. Her ignorance is hardly worthy of a riposte. But I'll say this: I know a man who is an Oakland police officer. He walks those streets every day, and I do not wish to trade places with him. He is an honorable man and I respect him immensely.

I made the mistake of saying to my bandmate, "I have some sympathy for the cops. They are just doing their job in a difficult situation." He was quiet for a few moments, before responding, "I have no sympathy for cops." And then he said no more.

The brusqueness of his statement leveled me. And later I wondered, "Then is he an anarchist? Are we to live in a lawless society?" Whoever would say that we U.S. citizens live in a police state is an utter fool.

This short pre-show conversation left me feeling shaken. I don't know why it hit me so hard. Perhaps because I was tending to a whining baby all day. Perhaps because I haven't been eating well lately. Perhaps because I'm away from home 7 days a week every week this month.

Sometimes in performance I can feel my body letting me down. My finger slips off a key, I don't turn a page briskly enough, I forget where the music is headed next. My body was letting down me tonight and it makes me wonder whether I have the stamina for this. I wasn't meeting my standards, and that is always frustrating.

Thursday

The days are blurring together and it becomes difficult to distinguish one performance from the next. There are minute differences, but they are difficult to recall after the fact.

When I arrived at the theatre Ms. Moreno summoned me because she wanted to experiment with a different key for the ballad song that closes the show. After a brief rehearsal we decided to keep the key the same as we had transposed it to last week. She will adjust her approach to the song vocally, singing her second entrance lighter so that she springs up to the highest note without blasting. It is a sentimental tune and singing with full chest voice probably doesn't suit the mood.

Friday

The highlight of tonight's performance was a laugh that the band shared with Rita. Earlier this week she told the guys in the band a story about how when she worked with comedian Milton Berle he always insisted that the band on the bandstand behind him act like they were enjoying the show. He beseeched them to respond enthusiastically to his jokes, whether they had heard them 100 times already or not. His suggestion to the band: when I hit the punch line, all of you shrug your shoulders up and down to make it look like you're overwhelmed by laughter.

There is a choreographed joke in the first act of the show where Rita speaks to the audience. Dave, the drummer always plays the classic snare drum/cymbal crash response to her joke. She usually acknowledges his accompaniment by looking back at the bandstand and laughing with him. Tonight when she looked back she caught Alex and Dave doing the silly shrugging shoulders gesture from Milton Berle's act, and it cracked her up. I cherish unscripted moments like this.

Saturday

Some friends of mine attended the performance this evening. After chatting with them for several minutes in the courtyard adjacent to the theatre I had just enough time to run through the musical cues with the sub on bass tonight, Michael. He had played the show once or twice before I joined the production, so it wasn't all new to him. Still, there are some things we can tighten up with a little rehearsal prior to our performance tomorrow afternoon when he will be subbing again. 

Tonight was good. We're starting to tick down the days until "Life w/o Makeup" is over. Eleven shows to go.

Sunday

I'm tearing through magazines here. I have toppled recent editions of these periodicals: Spin, Mojo, GQ, Details, Smithsonian, Entertainment Weekly, Wired, and Rolling Stone. I learned years ago that one must shield oneself from the soul-crushing repetition inherent in theatre jobs. But if you only have 10 minutes between songs here, and then 20 minutes there, diving into something weighty can be difficult. Books with lengthy chapters are a no-go. So magazines are my chosen diversion. Usually magazine articles are no longer than 8 pages. That's the perfect length.

This show has taken over my life in a way that is either beautiful or disturbing. I feel hollow these days, like my primary purpose in life is to act as a vessel for "Life w/o Makeup". My days are filled with running. Trying to catch a BART train, or trying to figure out which day of the week I rescheduled this or that student to. It's dizzying. Yet it's a great opportunity for me to rub shoulders with a legendary entertainment. Ms. Moreno has been an absolute delight to work with. The musicians I'm playing with are awesome. They have welcomed me and encouraged me from day one.

The life of the Working Musician is one of inconsistent opportunity. It is filled with mental challenges. These are tempered by the occasional burst of sheer joy. This is my life.

All the other musicians in the band are hustling just like I am. Our banter sounds like this: "Oh man, I just played 6 gigs in 3 days." "Tuesday is my first day off in weeks." "Okay, so this show ends in mid-November... that means I just need to find some work for December now." It's a tough life, but I'm not complaining. I'm just sharing the facts. The last day of October is tomorrow and I didn't have a single day off this month.

Jesse