It's tough right now to stick to the daily post goal I set for myself: our router's down at the house, so I have to go to a coffee shop to make these things happen. But you just got to push through the difficulty, get a double hammerhead at Midtown (Thanks Gayle!) and take a corner of the couch for yourself. And the fact it's half off ain't a bad deal.
Don't worry, CP. After doing a cost analysis of a cup, a coffee and a double shot of espresso, you still make money on my staffed beverage.
Anyways, I got a silver dollar in my venue tip yesterday...an old school one. One of the burly brutes that could be used for pre-kickoff festivities in the NFL. After AJ offered me the silver dollar from the tip jar, I donated the rest of my tips to her cause, not just because I had gotten 55 the shift before, but because I figured the minimal sacrifice of 5 dollars was worth it to add some stank to the coin's karma.
This is a true prize, and organically dropped in my lap. Going to the bank and asking for it would cheapen the experience of getting one of these bad boys first hand...especially with how the night went...it had a hint of the whimsical that made my sleep deprived actions seem to carry the weight of my new prize.
When I'm not acting as a barista for Naked Coffee, I'm the "sound guy" at the venue. In reality, I work a modest, but effective board, work the door, manage the event venue space, and keep things in general orderly and clean. I'm a noise and space custodian: I make sure there's no feedback in the speakers or the crowd.
One of the things I make sure to do before every shift is research the bands. I check out the schedule, bust out my netbook (best 300 bucks I ever spent,) and start google searching for, most often, myspace pages. Of the three different bands that had been listed to play, only one of them has a website of any kind.
The Capp Street Girls. Okay. Rock and roll, loud, 80s rock and roll. Alright. And they're all middle aged dudes from SF. Okay.
Checking the comments to see if they promoted the show, I then find out their lead singer had died five days before. He was nicknamed "Air Time Richie."
Whoa. So I call Inga, let her know that, hey, if the show gets canceled, I know why, and I let her know I'll hit her up as the night progresses.
Camporia, a replacement duo, comes in an hour early at 7:30 for a sound check, and I'm like: alright, there's a show, but it's gonna be last second replacements with no website to promote. The headliner is gone. Expect the usual crowd of, I don't know, 10 people at most. Usually, these shows don't do well...we've only been a music space for a year, and it's usually 3 years before you get any kind of a steady crowd who will walk into your shows just to see what it is.
So I'm surprised to see an old guard of KSSU and the Shennanigoats' long time drummer Scott there as part of The Meantime, the one of three bands scheduled to play. I know they'll draw a crowd. Okay. 25 people or so: solid show for our intimate space.
But there were more. They came for Scott, they came to see Nick and Nick of Camporia play, they came for Andy, the guy who brought The Meantime together so he could his songs played with a full band for the first time ever, and they came for The Kelps.
If you ever, EVER, get a chance to see The Kelps, and you like loud punk styled rock, you must see them. They brought friends, they rocked the place out, and, from what had looked like a canceled night, we had the fullest show I've ever been a part of. And it was chill. I had one douchy moment from an otherwise amiable dude (he thought I dumped a half full beer...there might have been five drops of backwash left.) but the packed house was happy to move into the rows, drink coffee, or beer, and watch the show. The bass player for The Kelps had his amp go out, and Scott got him a replacement. They raked in a sweet door, and AJ got some good tips. I got to see Scott, and his old Shennanigoat bassist buddy, Jim, and really felt I ran the place comfortably all night...I found my zen. It might have been because I worked 10 hours, because I only ate one meal, because I spent my break blogging and thus reduced myself to a relative dream state...but it felt magical.
A horrifying situation for a family out in the bay led to a crazy, improbable night, blowing up a Downtown Venue in Sacramento.
And I got my lucky coin.
So if you see me flipping a silver dollar, and its girth and heft is such that there's a doppler effect in the pitch difference between the end of the coin facing you and the one facing me, you will know where he came from.
He? Yeah, of course he has a name. Air Time Richie.
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