Day 62-64: The Ups and Downs.

 Day 62-64 : One minute no one is listening and  a kid with wet hair who just climbed out of a swimming pool is asking if he can have one of my harmonicas. The next minute a group of people are dancing with elation. Ah, the life of a musician…..

On the night of Day 61 I drove from Ketchum Idaho to Salt Lake City Utah.  I listened to the Doors “The End” on repeat as I drove through the vast expanse of barren land and darkness on this magnificent summer night. The feeling of freedom enraptured me. I’m not sure how long this feeling can stay on a person, but I hope it continues forever. Why did I choose to listen to the Doors’ “The End”? I’m not sure. I really like the mystical feeling. It’s one of my all time favorite recordings. I’m certainly not fond of the way Jim Morrison treats his parents at the end of this song….

Day 62 was a Thursday. I arrived in Salt Lake City. I had the day off from playing any gigs. It was hot when I arrived in the afternoon. There was way more traffic than I have been used to while in Idaho and Montana and Wyoming for the past month. I hung around a park and went hiking and running and played my banjo at my car’s tailgate. Passers-by enjoyed my banjo playing. It’s hilarious really because when I’m practicing at the back of my car I do not want to be heard. I am trying to hide from the world while I create new songs. I don’t want anyone hearing my experiments full of mistakes and chances. However, sometimes I get just as much attention practicing behind my car as I do when I’m playing a gig.

Day 63 was a Friday. I played at the Hotel Red Lion in downtown Salt Lake City. I had played this gig last year. It’s an interesting gig. The people who book the Hotel Red Lion music are super friendly. They have stages for artists to play all over the country. I have played this one in Salt Lake City and one in Olympia Washington. They give you a free room for playing, but no money, no free food and no free drinks.

Before the show I went in to use the bathroom to get freshened up for my performance. It was right after my nap. I washed my hand and went to leave the bathroom.

“Excuse me, sir.” I heard a voice call after me. It’s funny how people call me sir now. That started happening in the last few years. 

“Yes” I answered and turned around.

“Would you please throw your paper towel in the trash. It’s going to clog our sinks” said the security guard. I looked in the sink I had just used and there was my paper towels waded up at the bottom of the sink.

“I’m so sorry” I said. “I didn’t even realize I did that” I told the security guard. “I don’t know why I even did that. Thanks for saying something” I told the security guard. I really did respect the fact that he said something. He’s doing his job and it gave me a chance to apologize for something I honestly didn’t realize I did. He just looked at me as if he didn’t believe me. I always wondered who throws paper towels in the sink. I’ve always thought they were terrible people. What the heck happened to me? How many times have I done that before in my life? Yuck. Why did I do that and not even realize it? I blame it on the fact that I had just woke up from a nap, but it was embarrassing. What else am I doing to the world without even realizing it? Dang!!!

I shrugged off the paper towel incident as much as I could set up my gear to play. Of course I had some technical difficulty. My battery pack that powers my pedal board was not working. This battery pack allows me to play on the streets and farmers’ markets without having to plug in. However, I had to plug my pedals into the wall for the Red Lion gig. Not a big deal, but I’m not sure what I’m going to do for the farmers’ markets that I have left on this tour.

The Red Lion gig in Salt Lake City is kind of funny because you play about 20 feet away from the front door as people are entering and exiting the hotel. The hotel front desk is about 30 feet away from the front of the stage, so you’re kind of looking at the front desk clerks the whole time you play too. “Welcome to Salt Lake City! I am your welcoming committee Fast Heart Mart. I don’t live in Salt Lake City either and I’m just passing through too. In fact I’m staying in room 420” I want to say sometimes, just to break the ice for all the tourists with the look on their face like “why is there a banjo player playing music as I’m walking into the foyer of my hotel?”.  It’s kind of awkward, but hey, which gig isn’t awkward when it comes down to it.

About 3 songs into my set at the Hotel Red Lion this kid walks up to me right in the middle of me singing and asks “can I have one of your harmonicas?”. The kid obviously just got out of a swimming pool somewhere because his hair is wet, he’s got no shirt on and his swimming trunks are dripping water on the floor.  There’s people who were actually listening to me play this song before he came up on me, so I don’t stop the song, but between singing phrases I bend down and ask the kid in a whisper “what did you just ask me?”

“Can I have one of your harmonicas?” the kid asks me again.

“No” I say to the kid sternly as I can in a whisper.  What the heck? What kind of question is this? As if I’m just going to give this kid one of my $40 harmonicas? Yeah, I’m hear to pass out harmonicas to any of the kids who want one. 

I’m not sure what kind of reality these kids these days are living in, but I have appointed myself the figure in their lives to learn the meaning of the word “NO”and to respect musicians.  I think a lot of kids these days are not used to anyone telling them NO. Sure, maybe their parents tell them NO, but I get the feeling that public figures and strangers have been molded into believing they can never tell a kid “NO”. Can I get a lollipop? YES. Can I pet your dog? YES. Can I have some crayons and a coloring book? YES. But I have taken it upon myself to teach kids that they have to earn things.  Can I play your harmonica? No, that would be gross. Can I sing into your microphone? No, you have to practice and get your own microphone and book your own gig. Can I strum your banjo? No, right now I am performing, but let me know if you want to hire me to take a lesson sometime. Can you play this new hit song on the radio? No, I’ve never even heard that song.

The boy looked baffled that I told him no, he cannot have one of my harmonicas. I told him he could take a business card. He wasn’t interested in that, so he walked away.

I was thinking to myself “Ugh, this is going to be a LONG two hour gig” after the kid walked away. However, for the next song a group of people started dancing. It was a fun scene in the foyer of the hotel. People tipped me pretty well, I sold a CD and the front desk staff assured me that they really appreciated me playing because it cheered up their night. Miraculously the gig turned out to be pretty good J 

As I headed to my room I saw the security guard that reprimanded me for throwing my paper towel in the sink. He had walked by a few times while I was playing in the hotel lobby.

“Good night” I said to him as we passed each other in the hallway.

“Good night” he said reluctantly. I was hoping he had forgiven me after I apologized and played a great musical performance. Nope. To him I will always be that schmuck who threw his paper towel in the sink instead of the trash.

Day 64 was Saturday. I played at the Provo farmers’ market, about 30 miles south of Salt Lake City. When I arrived to the market the market master asked “Did we book you for this gig?”. “Yes” I answered “I’ve had this gig booked for a few months now”. She then informed me to wait until 10am to set up. “I will need power” I told her. “In that case come and get in touch with me at 10am and I will assist you”.

So I approached the market master at 10am. “Ok, just go find a place to set up on this side. There are some electrical outlets in the shrubbery just in front of the temple” she said.

“Ok, I don’t want to step on any of the vendors’ toes though, by playing my music where they don’t want me” I told her.

“That’s not their prerogative” she informed me “We heard a sample of your music before we booked you for this gig, right? she asked me.

“Sure” I answered.

“Then you have just as much right to be here as anyone else” she assured me.

So I went and found myself a spot to perform. It wasn’t easy finding a spot that had electricity AND shade. I was frustrated a bit because I’m used to being free of finding an electrical outlet. When my battery pack is working I can play wherever I want, regardless of where a power outlet may be. However, I finally found a good looking spot. It had shade, it was near a power outlet and I wasn’t super close to any other vendors.

I played a set of music. People were into it. However, a particular vendor kept turning up their music so much that by the end of my set I could barely hear myself play. Their music was not only loud, but they had turned it up so much that it was distorting. People kept saying to me “your music sounds so great, but it would be better if they turned off their radio”.

I didn’t know what to do? Should I go ask the vendor to turn it down? Or should I go ask the market manager to address the issue? For whatever reason I decided to tell the market manager. Of course she was no help. “If they are turning it up it means they don’t like your music” she said. “I’m not going to regulate this situation. You just need to find another spot” she informed me. There was no other spot, so I just said “ok, well I’m just going to pack up and get out of here” I said without any tone at all, just matter of fact-ly and walked away.

As I was packing up another person came up and told me how much they enjoyed my music and that they wished the vendor would turn down their music. By this point the vendor had turned down the music. I knew then that the vendor was in fact aware of what they were doing to me, so I had to say something to him.

I waited in the vendor’s line of customers. When I got to the front of the line I told the vendor, very calm and matter of fact “I think it’s extremely rude that you cranked up your stereo while I was playing my music. I came a long way to play here today. I’m also trying to make a living just like you are by selling your food here. My music can’t be that bad that you can’t tolerate it. I play plenty of farmers’ markets and I don’t appreciate being treated like this”.  The man acted like he honestly had no idea what he had done. He seemed like a good guy and he said “Awww, I wished you would have just told me, I would have turned my music down. Here, I will turn down now. You can play. I will give you some bread”.

“I’ve already packed up now because the market manager told me I should move and there is no place else for me to move to today. I don’t need any bread, thanks” I told him.

“Are you coming next week?” the vendor asked.

“No, I’m just passing through. Hey, you seem like a good guy and this probably just a misunderstanding, but please, in the future, just know that us musicians are out here trying to make a living too and it’s better when everyone around them cooperates”.

The vendor seemed empathetic. We shook hands and it was all good.

I spent the rest of the day relaxing. I needed a break from this tour life. It was hot in Salt Lake City. The traffic was terrible. Sometimes I just need to talk to people who know me. I found a shady trail to walk and I talked to some friends on the phone. I even spoke to my long lost favorite uncle. It was good to talk to him. We have a lot in common, including the insatiable desire to be a wandering troubadour.