Fall at Your Feet...

The finger of blame has turned upon itself
And I'm more than willing to offer myself
Do you want my presence or need my help?
Who knows where that may lead...

I fell on my face this week. Not literally. Well, not exactly literally, but sort of I guess. The band had a bad show. And it was my fault. I got rattled because - despite the fact I told my guitar to play a B minor chord, the amplifier opted instead to play a shriek of static and hiss (which was more or less in the key of B minor). So picture it. There J.D. is, standing with the lads in the band and we've just kicked into our first song; Worst Case Scenario. It's a noisy, electric, angry song. "We need to change, WE NEED TO CHANGE!" it screams. Well, I did have to change...guitars. After thirty seconds of non-response from my electric, I slung my acoustic on and tried to fight my way through it. It went ok. Not great, but ok. Then the second song - more crashing guitars and noise, only I couldn't add to that. The acoustic - despite how hard I hit it - just wouldn't sound angry and bitter and twisted. And that's where I tripped.

Imagine if you will, singing a song that you know very, very well - be it Blondie, U2, Rolling Stones or the Beatles. And then imagine three guys around you playing a different song. See if you can sing the damned melody that you know so well while that's happening. Now, my boys weren't playing the wrong song, but it sounded that way to my ears, because an integral piece was missing.

And I began to doubt myself. And the melody went in and out and then out and further out. And I thought I would throw up in the middle of the song, because I knew I was running it into the ground. I fought desperately through a well of negative emotions and tried to bring the song back, but I never did. I was just too far gone.

Let me preface this next bit by saying that our band doesn't have a true front man. More and more I'm singing and speaking as the voice for us, but that's more comfort than anything, I think. I can stand in the middle and - generally - not freak out. In fact, I generally thrive in that enviornment. I make every earnest effort to try and connect with the audience and make them understand what the four of us are trying to say. And so, when the band rides high, I reap a great deal more glory than I deserve. But when the band ebbs low, the blame falls squarely on my shoulders. As well it should.

I'm the guy at the front of the cavalry. It's my job to rally the troops if the tide turns against us. And Monday night, I couldn't do it. I tried. I really, really tried. I jumped, I kicked, I thrashed the guitar, I looked everyone in the audience in the eye and tried to make a connection. But it was forced and stilted and bereft of joy and love and energy. And boy, did it piss me off. I was able to forgive myself until the show was over - because you HAVE to. You have to let go of whatever's happened in live performance and keep searching for that elusive thing that will connect you to the audience. And on that particular Elvis Monday, it had left the building.

So now I've had a few days to stew and beat myself up and tell myself that I should be doing something else with my life. But I've decided that's nonsense. It's just the kind of week I'm having. I'm struggling with money, I'm fighting with the ones I love and I feel trapped and stifled in the enviornment around me. The walls are closing in and I'm poised to start kicking. Anyway, I took a few walks, listened to some music, did some reading and walked (in a haze) through my day job. And it dawned on me last night as I was getting up to play a few songs by myself at 1:30 am at Healey's. I had an epiphany.

It's not ok to fuck up. But it's ok to forgive yourself for doing it. Shit happens. People screw up. And you learn something when you fall on your face. I'm sure I did. I learned a bit about myself and I learned a bit about my boys. I'm confident I could rally the guys if I feel the tide pulling us out to sea again. And - strange as it sounds - I feel even more comfortable on stage now. Experiencing one of the worst personal performances I've ever given - and having the wound fresh in my mind - has taught me that life will be ok afterwards. I will always dust myself off and play again. I will always find something new to say. I will always be ok.

I was a bit nervous last night - getting up in front of some people, but I felt I needed to do it. The old 'get back in the saddle' routine. And it felt good. I enjoyed letting the demons out and pulling people into my world. I played a new song we've been working on. And it felt great. It's all about making adult choices when the world is closing in on you. Choosing to grow up, to lie, to settle and wither or to be the child and play and laugh and love. The question isn't answered in the song, but I answered it for myself just last night. Peter Pan better sharpen his sword, 'cause I'm going to tear that bitch a new one. :)


I know you're torn between
The world outside and the world you've known
But only you can choose
To live the lie or to find the truth
To join the ranks or to go it alone

To walk away from where you stand
And run forever to a now or Neverland
Fly by tombstones shot with green grass
Chase your ghosts past all that won't last