This show was just plain weird. Weird in a very entertaining way.
First of all, this was a 9/11 show held on 9/10. Huh? But wait, it gets better. It was supposed to be indoors but the venue was turned into an evacuee shelter. So we played next door at a massive 15,000 capacity outdoor ampitheatre instead. Amazing facility. Great sound. Good line-up. But things can always go wrong - even in the best situation.
1000 tickets were pre-sold, but because of thunder storms and the change of venue only about 200 people ventured out to the show. The two side stages were rained out and 47 independent bands slated for the festival had to be whittled down a bit and then the remainder thrown into the main stage rotation through-out the day. There wasn’t enough time for everyone to get their promised set lengths so label artists cut their sets and independent artists played only two songs each. I felt horrible for guys who drove long distances to play longer sets for big crowds but wound up playing eight minutes for 200 people with no time for a soundcheck.
I got to see Paul Colman play again, taking the opportunity to grab a picture of him in action. He stopped in the middle of his song and asked me to get one of his “good” side. Thunderous laughter from the small crowd. Ok, a smattering of laughter.
The Swift, friends Brian and I made on our trip to El Salvador, rocked out with their cross between Weezer and Ben Folds pop. They (pictured here with Brian and on stage) piano-rocked the crowd just after One Bad Pig, a middle-aged punk outfit from the eighties reuniting for a few shows this year, awed the crowd with tight power punk and a dive from the drum riser into a swimming pool filled with ice cream. “The world is like an ice cream sundae. It’s all gonna melt someday!” they shouted again and again. Not sure why one decides to incorporate large amounts of dairy desserts into one’s show but some things are meant to be enjoyed and not judged. Ashamedly, I did like it. I bow before the legends and inventors of 80s Christian punk.
The sound company was truly horrible, mistreating the promoter, trying to pick a fight with Brian, and walking off from the main board randomly and not returning for long periods of time. I was ready to start my set, for instance, but instead sat on the edge of the stage talking to the “crowd” while waiting for the sound man to finish his smokie-treat and return to work. Never seen anything like this before. The production crew’s juvenile apathy and the other hurdles of the day eventually led to a minor emotional meltdown by the promoter and his team. Understandable. It’s not easy being a promoter, especially of a show this large. 
Add bad help to the mix and it would force anyone into the fetal position in search of a happy place. Paul prayed with the promoter and encouraged him to go on with the show, telling him we’d get through this together. His charisma and pastoral gifts came in handy, saving the day perhaps.
And we did go on. Every band got to play eventually, we weren’t rained out and great music and relationships were made - along with sundaes of unusual size. (below)
I was born in Lawton, OK but smelled the fajitas wafting across the border when I was two and made a break for it. I spent the next 22 years in Texas. My body adapted quickly and soon could only run most efficiently on Tex Food cuisine. So today, while the wether and scenery are nicer in Tennessee, my body and, well, my spirit too, putter along on the cheap fuel of Taco Bell. I’m forced then to schedule frequent stops in the land of Pappasitos as a matter of survival. This was one such life saving journey.
We arrived by plane in Houston where a man was allowed to set up a protest table outside the baggage claim - claiming that Bush was the antiChrist, Cheney was an UNnatural disaster, and other such nonsense. I had to marvel at how evenly God has distributed the wackos between the two parties in this country. It’s only fair.
We quickly made our way to Pappasito’s - #2 on my list of great purveyors of Tex-Mex. (#1 is Uncle Julio’s). There, Brian and I gorged ourselves on hot sauce made from grilled ingredients and queso full of chopped onion and green peppers before diving into our entrees. Mmmm. God bless Mr. Pappa. He completes me.
Then it was on to Central Baptist Church where I played a show with Paul Colman. Paul goes to my church here in Franklin, TN but we’ve never really made time to get to know each other before this show. We sat, restringing our guitars in the choir room, and talked about music business and family, how he got started, whether country music is good or demonic, and lots of other stuff. He’s a driven driven man with more charisma and ideas swimming around in his pinky finger than I’ve got in my body. Of course it could just be the accent. Anything Australians say sounds worth listening to. It’s just not fair.
At the last minute we decided to play one large set together instead of two separate smaller sets. I took the stage and asked the crowd if that was OK with them and to cheers I invited Paul up to join me. Unrehearsed, we pulled off - but just barely - duets of each other’s songs, me limping through harmonies (not my gift) and stumbling through my lyrics (I think my songs have twice as many words than his so it’s to be expected.) In the end it was a great night, a change of pace for us both, and a chance to relax and cut up a little more than usual in concert. We were both forced out of any routine that may have found its way into our sets lately and were made to improvise and trust someone else for a change. Scary when you don’t know where the other guy is going next.
Went to Texas to play two shows (College Station and Beaumont) this weekend. Flew in this afternoon, hung out with my family briefly, and then zipped to a hotel in Nashville to play for a group of retailers in town for a convention. I just got home (10:40PM) and would rather sleep than upload photos and craft a decent post for SHLOG.COM so that’ll have to wait. Check back sometime Monday for a story about a promoter crying, a tale about a duet I sang with an Aussie, an update on relief efforts in Texas and find out why one Christian artist I ran into at the airport says he/they/she will be releasing a “worship” record soon. (No names will be used of course.) AND pictures of a grown man diving into a blow-up swimming pool filled with ice cream Sundae.
Yep. That’s my weekend. Ya’ll come back now. It’s worth the wait to read about.
-SG
Thanks to WAY-FM for having me on the air this morning on their South Florida station. Thanks, Brant and Donna for getting the word out about findshelter.org for us. You guys are already doing so much with Samaritan’s Purse, The Red Cross and others so I appreciate you adding findshelter.org to the list of options for Floridians wanting ways to help hurricane victims as well. Thank you.
-SG
I’m on the air this morning (7 AM CST) with WAY-FM West Palm (listen here) to talk about findshelter.org and then it’s off to Texas. My body is running low on the power only good Tex-Mex can provide. I’m like a car made for diesel trying to operate on regular unleaded living out here in Tennessee. I have to pull through the promised land every few months to refuel. Fajitas. Queso. Cilantro. That’s mana. Here I come.
Pics and posts after the show.
God bless Texas,
SG
I got to see Paul Colman play again, taking the opportunity to grab a picture of him in action. He stopped in the middle of his song and asked me to get one of his “good” side. Thunderous laughter from the small crowd. Ok, a smattering of laughter.
The sound company was truly horrible, mistreating the promoter, trying to pick a fight with Brian, and walking off from the main board randomly and not returning for long periods of time. I was ready to start my set, for instance, but instead sat on the edge of the stage talking to the “crowd” while waiting for the sound man to finish his smokie-treat and return to work. Never seen anything like this before. The production crew’s juvenile apathy and the other hurdles of the day eventually led to a minor emotional meltdown by the promoter and his team. Understandable. It’s not easy being a promoter, especially of a show this large. 
Add bad help to the mix and it would force anyone into the fetal position in search of a happy place. Paul prayed with the promoter and encouraged him to go on with the show, telling him we’d get through this together. His charisma and pastoral gifts came in handy, saving the day perhaps.
