Third Thursday @ Embellish

I brought a small amp I borrowed from a friend that would allow me to plug in both a mic and my guitar and set up on a little stage in one corner of the salon. Last night was Third Thursday gallery walk and I was playing at Embellish, in front of works by Houston, a local artist here in Tacoma. Actually it wasn’t a real stage…I’m not sure what it was to tell the truth, behind me and below some of the art was a large collection of hair coloring products with a few sample strands hanging down the sides, so maybe this was the hair section. Clearly don’t spend enough time in Salons to know all that goes on in one.

I stood behind the railing that held the baby carrot platter, the pita-chips, the lemon-grass soda and wine. Trish, who runs the place, seemed nice and I had a vague memory of meeting her back when Doug played a Third Thursday in their old space a few years back. She was kind enough to say that my name sounded familiar as well. Two other stylists were milling around, but they didn’t introduce themselves, and I was unable to muster up enough courage to take the initiative. Usually I don’t have problems striking up a conversation with people I don’t know, but these two women were of the “heavily made up” variety, and sometimes that kind of throws me for a loop as it's hard for me to gauge how much is actual un-interest in me and how much is their inability to smile through all those layers.

People started to arrive and I started my set. I felt pretty good considering the long layoff from playing live. I’ve been so focused on the CD’s nine songs that I haven’t really picked up the guitar for more than a month and I was afraid I would be a little rusty, but sometimes music can be like riding a bike, a couple of turns of the peddles and off you go. The one thing I could never get comfortable with, however, was that fact that off to my left was a large full-sized mirror in which I got to sneak glances as my overstuffed frame stumbling and bumbling its way along. It didn’t take long before the creeping idea that perhaps I wasn’t wearing enough product in my hair, that perhaps my clothes were a little on the frumpy side and while it’s all nice and good that I’ve been shedding some of the excess weight, the fact remains that there is a long way to go in that department. Don’t get me wrong here…it’s not like I was playing in front of Tacoma’s Beautiful In-Crowd or something, but even the most body-secure would start to get worn down in the constant nitpicking cruelty of an unforgiving mirror.

Houston had brought some harmonica’s and had another guitarist who wanted to jam as well, so after my first set, we set about trying to get a little jam started. I bagged out after a short bit, as that isn’t really my cup of tea. I was already feeling the brusing affects of the mirrors omnipotent gaze, and somehow I knew that if I were to look up and see me rocking out to a 12 bar blues progression, I might just do my padded ego irreparable harm. Better to leave before it got too ugly--before I became emotionally shredded and was left having another forty-five minute set to look forward to. This was just as well as right about the time I left the stage, a sax player got up and things got very Jazzy…I shudder to think what that mirror would have revealed if I’d caught myself mid jazz face.

I ran into a friend who writes for the Weekly Volcano here in Tacoma, and another friend who does the booking for Jazzbones and gave them both CD’s. So hopefully something good will come out of that. The other Tacoma weekly was there as well and so we swapped information and I gave them a CD as well. That’s a lot of CD’s going out and not much money coming in, but I’ll worry about that later.

The Jazz odyssey ran itself aground after a relatively short time and I went back on to finish my set. People for the most part were very nice and receptive to my little-dark-cloud of songs, and at the end of the night Trish gave me a certificate for a free hair cut. Before I had a chance to figure out which make-up masked stylist I might have to face, I met Anieka, a shortish round black woman who works there and whose face was relatively unadorned with pancake.

I’ll post pictures if it’s anything unusual, I promise.