So there’s this band…
I first heard about it from my friend who tends bar at a nearby brewery. “They play stuff from the 90s,” and he started listing several bands, making my jaw drop lower with each one.
“You’ve got to book them!” I told him.
A couple months later, he did. I told all my friends.
Then, for whatever reason, the band canceled.
Then they rescheduled. I told all my friends.
The band came! And I had one of the best nights of my life. I remember repeatedly saying, “I am so happy right now.” Plus, I did this: (It’s a slide show, so go quickly and you can almost see me playing! 😉 )
Do I know how to play the drums? No.
Did I have permission to climb on stage during a break and play the drums? No.
Did the drummer turn around and say, “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Yes. But after the first two words his face went from irritation/borderline anger to a broad smile. I was clearly having fun, for one thing, and I was the one who gave him food, for another. (That would be a separate blog post.)
Then, after applying some subtle pressure, the band got booked for a second time. I told all my friends.
The band got canceled.
The band was booked for a third time to play this past Saturday! I told all my friends.
Then Thursday morning I got a message from the bartender:
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the band isn’t playing Saturday night after all. There was a miscommunication and we double booked.”
Picture me hanging my head.
Then he says, “The band that will be playing instead is a Pearl Jam cover band.”
Now picture me laughing my head off.
Pearl Jam is the band of my youth, my first musical love since age 12 when my big brother handed me their first album and said, “Check this out.” I was instantly hooked.
I told the bartender all was forgiven. I’d be there.
I had told my mom and sister that the band was returning, so I updated them with the news that instead the performance would be by a cover band for “a particular Seattle 90s grunge band.”
My sister responded, “Nice,” then launched into a series of puns involving PJ song titles. (I love her.)
My mom said, “Is it a country band?”
She could hear me rolling my eyes from across the country.
“Ok. Ok. EV’s band?” EV, as in, Eddie Vedder, Pearl Jam’s singer. Mom’s way cooler than she lets on. Living in Cleveland, my parents sometimes take out-of-town guests to the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame. After one trip, she mailed this to me: