While I have performed on bass live since joining TalkBass five years ago …
( … even getting in a Zoom gig mid-pandemic … )
![MYPV2644[1].JPG](https://www.talkbass.com/attachments/mypv2644-1-jpg.5225862/ "MYPV2644[1].JPG")
… I hadn't played original music in a club since I was barely old enough to even attend such shows—UNTIL LAST NIGHT!
It didn't go down quite as I'd expected or hoped, but it did indeed go down; and as seen above, it stuck a big smile on my face that has yet to come off.
Like a number of us on here, playing bass and especially performing live on bass took a backseat to family life and a rewarding career after my early attempts at rock stardom didn't go far. I never stopped playing entirely, and after getting my middle child (pictured with me in costume as Ranger Merman, far above) a drum kit for his fifth birthday, I started playing and writing regularly again, eventually working it into my day job as a park ranger. By late 2019, I thought maybe I'd finally record my own original music and put a band together to play it live.
Then came 2020. The pandemic upended my life three years before it finally infected me; my spouse lost her job, I torpedoed my career and uprooted my family from Monterey Bay to Bigfoot Country to get her back on solid footing in her field in a community entirely new to us. That kind of move would make finding friends difficult at any time, but as the pandemic went from bad to worse, I found myself incredibly lonely for months on end.
As the pandemic finally eased in 2022, I started attending local metal shows. As small and isolated as Southern Oregon's Rogue Valley often feels, I was pleasantly surprised by the vibrant scene that came roaring back. I had found my community, and even better, my community found me. A chance interaction on Instagram delivered the perfect band mate just in time for the holidays; between the two of us, we could write and record everything we wanted. We went right to work, with an eye toward eventually bringing in someone to play guitar live.
As bad luck would have it, his spouse's career would drag him back down to the Bay Area for a year starting this September
Around the time he broke the news, that "other" Rogue Valley metal duo released recorded versions of songs we'd heard live without bass. The guitar player had laid down killer bass tracks, featured prominently in the mix. They sounded incredible! I asked them to let me know if they would like me to help them sound like that live, and they took me up on my offer just days before my band mate relocated.
The night the guitarist first came over to help me get up to speed, I finally tested positive for COVID-19, which he predictably contracted a day or so after. My time to prepare went from possibly adequate to "well, we can't back out now …"
… and so, I flew into my first club show in over two decades by the seat of my pants.
The drummer showed up only just in time, in part because his cat had stowed away in his gear. We drew maybe two dozen people on a Thursday night in downtown Medford. The song I had mostly attempted to learn earlier in the day was a train wreck on my end, though at least it was the shortest of the five songs in our set. But we slew on the others, sounded great doing it, and finished strong. Our local friends in the next band played the great set we've come to expect from them. The touring act from Texas made two dozen fans in Southern Oregon (and shot the video that provided the stills above).
I'm still riding that wave 25 hours later
and I have about 25 days to prepare for the next show 
( … even getting in a Zoom gig mid-pandemic … )
… I hadn't played original music in a club since I was barely old enough to even attend such shows—UNTIL LAST NIGHT!
It didn't go down quite as I'd expected or hoped, but it did indeed go down; and as seen above, it stuck a big smile on my face that has yet to come off.
Like a number of us on here, playing bass and especially performing live on bass took a backseat to family life and a rewarding career after my early attempts at rock stardom didn't go far. I never stopped playing entirely, and after getting my middle child (pictured with me in costume as Ranger Merman, far above) a drum kit for his fifth birthday, I started playing and writing regularly again, eventually working it into my day job as a park ranger. By late 2019, I thought maybe I'd finally record my own original music and put a band together to play it live.
Then came 2020. The pandemic upended my life three years before it finally infected me; my spouse lost her job, I torpedoed my career and uprooted my family from Monterey Bay to Bigfoot Country to get her back on solid footing in her field in a community entirely new to us. That kind of move would make finding friends difficult at any time, but as the pandemic went from bad to worse, I found myself incredibly lonely for months on end.
As the pandemic finally eased in 2022, I started attending local metal shows. As small and isolated as Southern Oregon's Rogue Valley often feels, I was pleasantly surprised by the vibrant scene that came roaring back. I had found my community, and even better, my community found me. A chance interaction on Instagram delivered the perfect band mate just in time for the holidays; between the two of us, we could write and record everything we wanted. We went right to work, with an eye toward eventually bringing in someone to play guitar live.
As bad luck would have it, his spouse's career would drag him back down to the Bay Area for a year starting this September
Around the time he broke the news, that "other" Rogue Valley metal duo released recorded versions of songs we'd heard live without bass. The guitar player had laid down killer bass tracks, featured prominently in the mix. They sounded incredible! I asked them to let me know if they would like me to help them sound like that live, and they took me up on my offer just days before my band mate relocated.The night the guitarist first came over to help me get up to speed, I finally tested positive for COVID-19, which he predictably contracted a day or so after. My time to prepare went from possibly adequate to "well, we can't back out now …"
… and so, I flew into my first club show in over two decades by the seat of my pants.
The drummer showed up only just in time, in part because his cat had stowed away in his gear. We drew maybe two dozen people on a Thursday night in downtown Medford. The song I had mostly attempted to learn earlier in the day was a train wreck on my end, though at least it was the shortest of the five songs in our set. But we slew on the others, sounded great doing it, and finished strong. Our local friends in the next band played the great set we've come to expect from them. The touring act from Texas made two dozen fans in Southern Oregon (and shot the video that provided the stills above).
I'm still riding that wave 25 hours later
and I have about 25 days to prepare for the next show 
