My DC Blues Bar Blues

So, a few months ago, I had to make a tough choice. Instead of working full time over the summer, I took a few summer classes and a cushy part time job, and devoted as much energy as possible to Aces High, my blues band. We traveled all over the state and Michigan, having a great time, and made only a tiny, microscopic amount of money.

So for me, it was like that one scene in The Matrix, where Neo is getting interrogated by Agent Smith for the first time.

Miiiiiister Brown….it seems that you’ve been leading two lives. By day, you’re a mild mannered college student/very low level government bureaucrat that types papers and staples things for slightly higher up government bureaucrats. By night, you throw on a suit and sunglasses and go play drums in smokey blues clubs, and go by Downtown. Only one of these men…..has a future.

So I panicked, and hedged my bets. I wasn’t going to quit making music, but I knew I really only had time to go for broke on one of those things, and I picked the straight job. It all kind of came to a head last week, when I sold my old drumset to one of my former students. I knew it was the responsible choice, but you all know I’m a showman at heart. I missed gigging.

So I was more than excited to learn that there was an open blues jam right here in DC! I would have a chance to relive my rock star dreams on *some other guy’s kit*, if only for a night. I found out the date and time, and was counting down all week. I didn’t know anything about this bar other than its location, so I tried to come prepared. I grabbed my own sticks, harmonica, all the ones I could find in my sock drawer, and threw on my *blues bar best*. Blue shirt, black tie, jacket, and shades. My age is still a handicap when it comes to blues-cred, so I hoped maybe I could look the part a little to get some back.

I quickly discovered that this was not going to be the case. I the only guy there wearing anything that even resembled a tie. The bar was already fairly full when I walked in and plunked down on a barstool, and defiantly was full of your typical blues bar demographics. It was almost entirely male, where everybody either looked like they just walked off the set of Two and a Half Men, or a boxcar. Plus, I was the youngest person there by at least 15 years…but that’s par for the course for blues bars. I think a big reason we were so successful as a band in Columbus was because a group of 19 year olds playing blues music is still a bit of a novelty to some people.

The house band was still warming up when I walked in, so I plunked down at the bar and ordered a coke (I still prefer root beer, but there is no promise that a bar is going to have anything besides coke that doesn’t contain booze). The barkeep hands me a plastic cup with the ol’ brown bubbly, and I go for my wallet. He says “that’ll be three bucks”Three bucks? For a coke???? I wonder how much it would have cost for a beer!! I was hoping to get at least two drinks in, but there is no way to justify spending half a weeks metro fare on something I can get back home for two dirty quarters. I give the barkeep a look that says “you gotta be freakin kidding me”, but hand him three bills. Then he goes “wait, I forgot. With tax, that’s 3.30”I should have packed in then.

When you’re paying 3.30 for a plastic cup of coke, you should know it isn’t going to be your night.

But I wanted to play drums, the band was starting, and the night was young, so I gamely stuck around past my first bad omen. I made a beeline to the musician sign up sheet, to make sure I was the first one…in big, bold print. “downtown” Matt Brown. Drums/Harmonica. There. Then, I struck up a conversation with my neighbors at the stools next to me, which made me feel terribly grown up. I had gone from sneaking into places like this, trying to get a gig, and hoping that nobody would wise up to the fact that I was underage and chuck me out, to making friends at the bar. I’m 21. I Belong.

The house band began their set, and I have to admit, I was not impressed. I’ve seen a lot of local bands…some amazing and mesmerizing, and some that made me envy the dead. These guys weren’t that bad, but I couldn’t help but think, If this is whats good enough for a regular gig in DC, I’m quitting my job tomorrow. The guy next to me leaned over and said “Hey man, isn’t it great how this amazing musicians come in here to play in DC? This guitarist is the best guy I’ve ever heard!” I figured it would be rude to say "Really? My old bandmate at the University of Cincinnati is 19, and he could eat this guy’s lunch", but that would be rude, and besides, blues music isn’t supposed to be a competition, it’s a brotherhood, and we’re here to support each other. I agreed.

The set was supposed to end at 9:00, and by 9:45, I was starting to get antsy. I couldn’t afford to be here all night, since the metro closed early on weekdays, and I had a friend from AU come all the way out here to see me play….but the house band never left the stage. Every so often, they would call up one of their older friends to sing a song or two, or play. They ranged from very talented, to gaaaadawful. Me and my newfound friends at the bar cringed a little bit.

By 11:00, I was getting a little upset, although that’s partly because Tony was texting me Cavs updates, and now my fightin’ Lebrons were down by 20. The house band and friends took a quick break, and I walked up the stage. If I couldn’t stake a claim to the kit, I at least wanted to know what was going on.

Another guy got their first though, and started to warm up. I asked him if he was the drummer for the next set. He gave me a dirty look, and said “uh…yeah. Why?”“Well, I was the first guy who signed up, and I have to leave at 11:30, and I wondering if I might be able to just play a song or two?”
The man looked like I just asked to sleep with his wife.
“Kid, that signup sheet don’t mean shit. The band runs it, and if they decide to call you up, then you get to play.”Well, this struck me as awfully stupid. I just moved here, how would “the band” know to call me up? This was advertised as a public blues jam. “Ain’t my problem kid.”

Well, forget this. I said thanks, told Kaitlyn I wouldn’t be playing tonight after all, and left the place, kinda dejected.That’s kind of how things work when you step up to a bigger city. When I first started playing in Columbus (or heck, doing anything professionally in Columbus), people didn’t care that you might have been a bigshot in tiny Granville…you had to prove yourself first. Eventually, musically and professionally, we all did. Its that same deal here. Oh, you played for the biggest blues guys in Ohio? Well, that and 3.30 will give you a plastic cup of Coke my friend…now sit down.

That’s okay I guess. I wouldn’t have come down here if I didn’t think I had what it took to stick around.