This picture was taken at the Nuova Lazio Jazz, Blues and Poetry Jam that happens in a little local bar once a month. We usually ge an audience of one ore two (one time it got up to six, counting band family members) but no one cares because it is really good fun to jam. Sometimes locals stick their heads through the window in disbelief. The fact is that jazz is not popular in Nuova Lazio. Worse than that really - in Nuova Lazio I think it is fair to say that jazz in actively disliked.
Today our leader has jacked us up a (free) gig playing at a rugby league tournament.
For some reason I keep thinking of this joke.
As usual it will be fun to play with the boys.
Well, it's nearly 4pm, the gig is done and I have a Chardonnay in hand.
I got to the gig at 11am and was able to drive through the food stalls and get close to the proposed stage, which arrived on a small truck not long after me. They used a small truck because it was a small stage. A small stage with no cover. It was hot and the stage had no cover. It was plonked in a field a little over from the food stalls and away from the league fields.
We were supposed to start playing at 12, but our leader was informed that they'd kick off at 12.30pm and there was another act before us. I started to worry about my double bass because it was very hot and double basses don't like being in hot cars or being on a stage in direct sunlight. My double bass is worth quite a bit of money.
I made a decision to take my double bass home and go into school and borrow a bass guitar. That turned out to be a very good decision. Unfortunately it meant I'd have to give up my great carpark and hope that I could get back in on my return. When I dropped The Gloria at home I took the precaution of getting some sun block and a hat.
|My very cool NLHS hat.|
I returned and task number one was getting the Maori Wardens to let me back into the site and close to the stage. At first they refused but then an organiser overturned their decision and led me back to where I was parked.
The act before us consisted of a woman singing and a guitarist. They were good and perfect for the gig - she sang with lots of those pentatonic runs. Another lady had a go too. Really this was perfect music for the event.
Eventually it was our turn. We packed onto the little stage. There was a generator just behind the stage which made it very hard to hear. A double bass would have been hopeless. I thanked Robert's God for the bass guitar. I said to the leader, "No solos for me, I'll hold the time with the drums." We all smiled and did our best. One couple sat and listened for a while - it was like being back in our little bar, except we couldn't hear each other.
My hands got a little sore because I haven't done a bass guitar gig in a while and I was using different muscles. It was good to finish.
I thanked my band mates and said I'd better get home and check on my one handed wife. I drove very, very carefully until I got to the barrier between the event and freedom.
I waited for a Maori Warden to approach my car.
Not this fellow. I'm sure he does a great job, as most Maori
All the wardens I'd encountered today seemed really nice and tried to be helpful, but this last guy seemed to have it in for me.
He said, "I want you to know that I'm reluctant to let cars in or out of this area." It was obvious that he was exhibiting attitude. I think he was on a slight power trip. Many answers to his statement ran through my head. I guess that, if I were Jack Reacher, I would have just ploughed through his flimsy barricade (and it was very flimsy); or I could have just told him that he had absolutely no power to restrain me, that he looked so out of shape that he would probably have a heart attack if he tried to physically restrain me, that I had just spent four hours of my time doing a free gig that was not really appreciated and bloody hard work, that a plumber wouldn't have fixed his pipes for free - especially not on a Sunday. Instead I just smiled and said grazie. He may have taken a moment to think and then he removed the barrier.