Feb 9, 2010
Day 5 Part 1
12:03 pm
As the days go by, the tone of these wake up calls gradually got more and more stern. The accents on the other end are constantly changing, but the message is the same in any language: GET THE [expletive] OUTTA HERE! Not before Milk came barging in yelling “Hey Zipperheads, good morning,” as he leaps and tackles Danny at the vending machine. Now that’s comradery if I’ve ever seen it. After being a part for a few hours, it was obvious that Milk missed us. Sleeping in the parking lot must have been highly exhilarating, but I equate the smile on Jason’s face to the fact that his precious iPhone survived the blistering cold, even though he neglected the cellular device and bolted from the van the previous night, launching his Apple product into the air until it landed on a bed of sleet, slush and snow to retire for the evening.
The maids and resident man servant were happy to see us as they had been waiting outside our door with agitated expressions and cleaning supplies trying to expedite the process. We vacated the premises and I drove us across the street to eat at a place called Otter’s that advertised chicken tenders in their logo. They know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and I had scrumptious grilled Creole-seasoned filets and dipped them in some homemade honey mustard. Mmmmm good. Now we can hit the I-40, or the Music Highway as the signs suggest, and take a trip down a road that numerous musicians have driven in between Nashville and Memphis. Danny wondered what Elvis had thought while looking out the car window on the way to the King’s first gig in Memphis. I pondered what would happen if Elvis or John Wayne had ran into Chuck D while Public Enemy was on tour? What would they had thought of Flava Flav? Thank God they never saw Flavor of Love. Ironically, Milkman has the DVD box set at our house. Hmmm…
Feb 10, 2010
Day 5 Part 2
2:33 am
Hi Tone Cafe was the original location of Elvis’ personal karate studio, or dojo, and tonight, it was definitely the place to be in Memphis. I have some relatives that live in the area and heard they had already bought tickets to see me, so I wasn’t surprised to see Yvette and her sister, Barbara, arriving early, but what was really touching was when she refused to accept my CD for free. Then, she said she wanted two full lengths AND a t-shirt AND a hat AND she wanted to pay full price. I shoulda known, especially after she denied my offer to put her on the guest list. Besides, she was the first person to patronize my PayPal store over a year-and-a-half ago and one of my biggest supporters. Thanks, cuz.
The blizzard had passed through the night and folks were just thrilled to be out, though the wind chill was still a factor. Brrrr! Each time someone would open the door, a draft would enter into the bar that was too cold even for the drunkest drunk. As we were setting up and sound checking, I located that one spot in the room where the heating ducts were ferociously pumping and got warmed up. It didn’t take long for the crowd to warm up to Happy’s funky set and, as always, his song “Sexy Girl” won them over. He has gotta be one of the nicest dudes on the planet and always has an encouraging word for me after my set, but his ability to mesmorize the audience without the assistance of other musicians is by far the most impressive aspect of this tour.
What we do is easy, but it really isn’t. Some things just come naturally so it seems simple, but the art of performing is an ever-evolving process. Each night there is a distinctly different atmosphere and there is always a point in the set where the ice is finally broken and I can engage in some sort of dialogue with the crowd. These precious moments spent casually connecting with an audience can establish a rapport that will eventually become your lifeline. Since the Hawks/Grizzlies game was on at the bar, topics ranged from who was the bigger ball hog? OJ Mayo or Kobe… to which Gasol brother was the better baller? They didn’t mind me mocking their home team after they heard I was a typical Laker hater from LA, though they did point out that the Grizzlies defeated the Fakers the last time they met.
The Memphis Tigers’ memorabilia everywhere should have reminded me of my all-time favorite basketball player, Penny Hardaway, and his trusty sidekick, Lil Penny, but I forgot to shout him out. The props that I receieved after the show were beautiful. A light-skinned brother told me, “We need you!” as he purchased one of my $3 singles with a $20 bill and wouldn’t lemme give him change. He continued, “‘… keep touring, keep writing, keep learning.’” Dude was quoting my lyrics and everything! It makes me so happy to hear that people can hear me. Some nights my vocals get drowned out by the instruments, and sometimes an unprepared sound engineer can’t get the mix quite right, so it’s always a good thing to know my voice was heard. I gave him my dude a t-shirt and some dap and thanked him for the good word.
Another kid told me, “Thanks for bringing us some HIP HOP, not RAP.” That’s real! People were dropping some knowledge on me and their insight was super-helpful at the merch booth. Too bad I didn’t have any more merchandise to trade them for their critiques. During the show, I auctioned off my last LP to the highest bidder. I didn’t actually sell the CD from stage, instead of taking the homey’s twenty dollars, I thanked him for taking a risk and explained how we risked our lives driving cross-country to share ourselves, but it was worth every minute. He ended up buying a KBxEstateLA hat, and judging by the size of this country boy, that’s some pretty good product placement. Thank you for the love, Memphis! Now I gotta get some shut-eye before we’re off to rock the socks off of the M-I crooked letter I.
Nice Life.
Good Night and Good Day,
KAB
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