You never forget your first time.
For a couple of years before I moved to New Hampshire I was
spending a lot of time in the northeast. I'd been going
around playing for dances for a couple of years and I had
met some people in the western Mass./lower Vermont/New
Hampshire area who liked the same music I did. They were
pretty well-connected and could find us places to play. I
would take some time off from work, jump on a plane, and
we would spend a few days driving around New England, stopping
every now and then to play for a dance.
It was during this time that one of the New England-based
callers I'd met and worked with was booked at a festival near
where I lived. We met up at the festival and schmoozed a
little about what a change-up it was, what with them visiting
my "turf" for a change.
When the caller met up with the band they would be working
with for the weekend, they got a bit of a surprise. The
festival had paired the caller with a band that, not to put
too fine a point on it, doesn't play for dances. At all. I
should point out that this was primarily a music festival,
with some dances. It was pretty obvious the bookers did not
know the dance scene.
The caller came to me, possibly ashen-faced and in a cold
sweat (my memory is a little hazy), and told me about the
predicament. They asked would I mind sitting in with the band,
so there would be somebody on stage who had played for a
dance before. It had been cleared with the band and they,
too, thought it a good idea. The fact is I was a little
thirsty for stage time. But I was happy to be in a position
to help, all the same.
I met up with the band and we talked. They played Irish music
and we knew a lot of the same tunes. The caller also declared
an open stage and we rounded up a few more people (the band
was, in fact, a duet) to bulk up our ranks. The dance was in
a room with a very small stage so by the time we were starting
to play it was, let's say, cozy.
Somebody had a tune book with chords (Pretty sure it was
Square Dance Chord Book and Tune Locator (2nd edition) Jack
Sloanaker; Tony Parkes published in 1979. In the um, decades
since I'm sure there are others which have been published)
so the accompanists were not in the dark. It was still going
to be a white-knuckle ride but things were falling into
place by the minute. Optimism was not unwarranted. We might
even walk away from this with a few shreds of dignity remaining.
As the caller was lining up the first dance we selected a
couple of tunes that we all knew and that were in the tunebook.
The fiddle player of the band and I were seated side-by-side,
really close together. It was near enough to go-time that
we were both settling into our "playing posture," adjusting
the microphones, and getting situated.
We were seconds from getting the go-ahead from the caller
to start the first dance when the fiddle player asked me:
"How many times will we play it?"
I felt like I was bringing bad news when I said:
"We'll play until the caller tells us to stop."
The fiddle player's face literally went slack and there may
or may not have been an audible "gulp" sound. Eyewitness
accounts vary. And the only thing they said in reply was:
"Oh."
As it happened we had a great time. I never really met up
with the band again, they are from far away enough that it
just never happened. One of the "sit ins," who's a successful
singer and songwriter, was based a little closer to home and
we would run into each other now and then. It was like seeing
someone after you'd been, I don't know, stuck in an elevator
or something. There was a shared experience, a "you had to
have been there" thing we'd been through that no one else
would understand. I think we played music together once, in
an informal setting. Yeah they asked me to accompany them on
one of their songs.
True story.
Suggested reading:
My First Time at Greenfield
In which I find a new home. Metaphorically speaking.
I Can Quit Whenever I Want To
In which I kick the coffee habit. Until about lunch time.
Full Moon Over Peterborough
In which Bob shows the dancers what he's made of.
Perhaps Samuel Butler was right
In which I learn that "on the job training" is not always the best choice.
Friends, Romans, Countrymen... Grab yer partners!
Caller Bernie Chalk came not to bury Caesar but to do-si-do with him.
Some experience required.
You never forget your first time.
Time Travel!
Return to those days of yesteryear
The $20 Fiddle Tune
We're not in it for the money, but neither do we turn it down.
Is That Guy Okay?
A case of mistaken identity.
Every Fiddle Has a Story...
... but they can't talk.
Mmm, Ham...
In which Pete and I rely on the kindness of strangers.
Not Sure Who Won But I Can Tell You Who Lost
In which I wind up with farm fresh historically accurate Colonial-era egg on my face.
Happy New Year
In which the New Year creeps in on little cat feet.