Jammin' with the Boyz and Grrlz

So, last night, I took my ukulele to the house of my friend's bro-in-law to jam. My first jam with an almost actual band. I think they're in the stage of becoming a band. The personnel seem to be in a moderate state of flux. The line-up includes my friends Donita and Jim-she on dumbek and vocals, he on massive keyboards and vocals. The line-up is rounded out by Ken on guitar, Geometry John on bass, banjo and, I think, occasionally guitar (he hasn't played it, but he can), and Amber, also a vocalist. Brothers Ken and Jim are both fine musicians, and I don't just say that because I hope to be invited back. In fact, all five of them are geniuses at what they do, whether they invite me back or not.

There is also a drummer, who, at age 15, is young enough to be a grandson to any one of us. He is an excellent drummer. They say one of the best in this town we call Riverside.

Unfortunately, he didn't attend this rehearsal. It may or may not have been past his bedtime. He may or may not get mad enough about that last comment to never allow me to jam with the band again. Just in case, he is also a genius. A child prodigy.

I don't know whether or not the champagne would have flowed as freely had he been there.

There in muted spirit was Dave, on miscellaneous percussion, who had recently parted ways with the band due to creative differences: they were talented, he wasn't.

I will leave most of the sordid tale to the blogs of others, as I did not know Dave well. I did witness two of his performances with the band and was not as impressed with his genius as I was with the collective genius of the others in the band.

He had many percussion toys, all attached to a percussion toy-holding rack, like Sheila E has. He would hit the various toys, yet somehow never blend with the rest of the band. It was like he was in a little room with invisible walls, where he could not hear the band and, therefore, could not stay with their tempo. And yet, he could see them, and would often banter with them. Hell, he would interrupt their charming banter with less-than-charming (or relevant) comments. He was one of those people who, just as you yourself are about to come to the punchline of a truly funny joke that everyone is really focussed on, interrupts to ask you where you bought your pants.

Anyway, he's out.

The reason I was there is because I am a fledgling ukulele player and have played during the band's breaks on what they call Casual Sundays at local bar. I would play, and the crowd would go wild.

OK. It wasn't exactly a crowd and they didn't exactly go wild. But they didn't boo. And, on my second visit, they actually stopped and listened. I was so disturbed by this that I forgot what song I was playing.

So my friend Donita has asked me several times to join them for their Friday Night rehearsals. I have been a little shy about joining them, but figured I'd better show up so they would know that it wasn't personal.

I played with them for about two hours, I guess. When playing the songs on their list, I would just play the chords I knew and pretend to play the chords I didn't. Fortunately, I wasn't amped.

When I played the tunes that I knew, I sat next to the microphones. I had a great time. I have never actually played in a band before. But there I was, singing and strumming.

We started off by goofing on "Innagadadavida." Then we moved on to "Daydream," Times like These," and "Wild Honey."

I felt like a rock star.