Morning After

Well it is the morning after the night before. I was really proud of us. We made it beyond 8.15 pm. We went late. Late enough to say this is still the same day as the day we finished up. It does not matter that in the end our voices were very monotone and flat and we spoke like zombies, we made it. I reckon this feeling of being totally wiped out, and walking into walls, has nothing to do with the late night. It will pass.
I was glad to see everyone. I was really happy that some made it who had never been to one of our jams before. They totally did not know what they were getting themselves into. About a minute in, they did. There were some really bad jokes told. Bad of course being the new good. I would say we had a wicked time. Wicked being the new not wicked.
We knew in going so late we had to keep in mind the neighbours. I must admit though I found the “really loud, never use” button on the piano really helpful. I don’t think us talking really loudly into each other’s ear trumpets had any effect on anyone else. The good thing about those things though, is that all we need to do is lower them, to be greeted with the sound of silence. At that point it is people’s expressions that tell the story.
Our saxophone player worked out it is close to 10 years since we had gotten together like last night. There were glimpses of our former glory (though others may have a different expression). I had told someone our sax player could bring tears to a glass eye. That held true, and given more time together that would be even more obvious. The bass player makes me sick. He was good. He always is. But then I have a theory. How hard can playing the acoustic double bass really be? I mean find the key you are in, and as long as you stay in it, any note you hit is likely to be right or close to it. Actually he is really good. He anticipates well the unusual sharps and flats in the song.
I found when using Band in a Box (a music computer program) that once I had laid the initial track, I could use add-ons, and be anything I wanted, just by playing notes on the piano. I was a bass player, a flute player, an electric guitarist and at one stage I was a whole orchestra. I found that as long as I kept within the range of the instrument I was, I could go to town. The good thing is, it is a bit like digital photography these days. If I didn’t like it, I could just delete it, and do it again.
I read something the other day and because I read it, it must be true. They were talking about Irish humour and said having a go at someone was a sign of love. Put it this way, there was a lot of affection on display last night.
All those there appeared to enjoy the night. Merrils cooking of lamb and beef curry with rice proved to be popular. In fact, it was so popular I have a complaint that there were not enough left overs for me. Oh and the bass player complained that eating it played havoc with his appetite. Others provided stuff that proved to be just as popular. .
It seems to me, a measure of success is if there is a desire to do it again. We have determined early December would be a good time. That’s like, not many over 70 sleeps.