Validation. Do you really exist
May 15, 2002
Validation. Do you really exist if your family and friends have never seen or approved of your best work? The hometown gig brings it all to bear. First you must ground your floating ego by doing as much yard work as you can. This brings you to a level where the comments of loved ones can have an effect. If you stay disconnected then it will be assured that you don’t actually exist. They had to put makeup on the backs of my hands for the pay per view special because they were covered with cuts received from cleaning out the eves troughs around my house. Perhaps this was done to make sure that nobody thought I was out having more barroom dustups the night before. Actually a few of the gashes were at the claws of my beloved Nigel. We had to take him (cat) into the vet and I was a little casual with my protocol as I grabbed him to put him in the car. Famous for producing the last two Odds records (winner of the West Coast Music Award in 1997 for best producer) Nigel the cat is also renowned for his clawsmanship and general surly demeanor.
Grounding your ego with the sandbag of manual labour is compounded by the other elements of the hometown gig. You may have to perform for your parents. To tighten the sphincter even further on the mixed metaphor it must be decided that TV cameras will be shoved up your snoot for the two days you are in town. Five out of the six performers in the show have done live television for years and years. Do you know who hasn’t? “Don’t fuck up” says the little bird with the red light on its head. If you forget that the little bird with the red light is there then you suffer the fate of those on reality TV shows: a) you look stupid in front of a million people b) you are caught being the backstabber on the island c) you are seen as the pathetic victim of back stabbing at the hands of the other tribe members d) you have to fight later to have your face pixilated. All the mics were “hot” all the time. This means that all the hotly contested issues regarding the TV taping protocol (on night one in Vancouver) are preserved somewhere to later appear in the darkened corners of entertainment biz gristmills. There may be character assassinations on the scale of the famous Buddy Rich tapes if my assessment of the modern media situation is correct . The popularity of the Osbournes completely supports my position.
In the end we had a pretty good show and the second night’s audience rose to the occasion and supported the each comic beat. Vancouver validation. My mom loved it. I exist. Wait a minute. Haven’t I done much better doing things that mothers don’t like?
Underneath your clothes there is an endless story? No Shakira. Underneath your clothes is a woman like every other woman with kazillions of dollars in marketing and an average to annoying voice. Lets not hold it against you.
A three part entry. Seattle was another of the unexpectedly transcendent performances. Just before we hit the stage Dave showed me a note from a person that I have learned and stolen from since his early albums. Perhaps one of the greatest musical forces of the last 30 years. It explained that his party would be in the audience and that they would see us all later. For a little while I froze solid and then I began to thaw. In the end I was able to conjur up the best parts of who I was. I think one’s first instinct is to change to suit what you feel the other person would want to see or hear. After many years I have learned that this makes you look instantly ridiculous. My recovery time is now about ten minutes. After ten minutes of assessment I understand that my best option is to go out as the best me that I can be. This is different than the self deprecating and downward gazing me.This is the me that looks in the mirror and laughs and says, “Oh its you. Haven’t you done this kind of thing before?”. The funny conclusion is that with every note I sang I realized how much I was influenced by this person . As I sang I felt more positive about this fact. Rather than being embarrassed by it I unabashedly embraced it. I gained strength. After the show this person(s) came backstage and complimented me and thus... validated me. I had so many things to say but of course I said, “thank you” (and about 20 other words I can’t remember). My pal Paul Myers will read this and know who I am talking about but I leave the rest up to your imaginations. All I can say is...shoot high and then go a notch higher than that. Think of who I’ve been compared to...a junior __________. Who would a nerd in my social situation gravitate towards?
The Seattle people knew how to respond. The show stretched out as the troupe got caught in the undertow. The laughs stretched out and the show got taken to a different place. I thought it was a really unique vibe. The Paramount has been completely renovated and restored and the venue really adds something to the proceedings. Nice to hang a bit with Young Fresh Fellows and bask in the growing glory of Vancouver’s sister to the south.
My continuing admiration goes to my brothers and sisters in the crew. Having been a guitar tech in one of my past lives, and having spent many an evening humping gear for $20 I feel a small part od what they feel. They are amazing. Nary an audible complaint and plenty of fodder for complaining. I hope they get to have a good booze up on this long drive to LA. They deserve it. The Pay per view nonsense must have taken a big chunk out of them. Time to shake it all loose.