The Oppenheimer Report - 10/28/13

R.I.P.

The Friday before last I attended this month’s Burk’s Falls Coffee House series. Having missed the last three sessions I wanted to see what was brewing on the local talent scene. Turns out, quite a lot. The musical talent was pretty good this month, and as a special treat, the last show featured the youngest performer I have yet to see on that stage. Singing I believe a Shania Twain song, the little girl was about 4 years old. She nailed it. One guy did a karaoke set, which I’ve also never seen at one of these open stages, and all his music and lyrics were in a karaoke program on his laptop. He had a pretty good voice, but while he was singing one of my (only) favorite Elvis tunes, Suspicious Minds, there was a technical glitch – something to do with a connection on his computer – and it caused his musical accompaniment to go haywire. The poor guy was up on the stage twisting in the wind. At one point he was trying to sing almost a cappella and it wasn’t pretty, especially considering he was supposed to be singing a rather complicated harmony to his own muffled voice. The sound man eventually fixed the problem, but the guy was so flustered by that point that he never really regained his groove. It was a shame, I thought he was pretty entertaining. Having experienced technical problems on stage myself, I know how humiliating and off-putting sound problems can be.

One of the performers that night was a professional musician named Sean Cotton, who lives in Burk’s Falls and who hosts an open mic in nearby Huntsville every Wednesday night. He bills his open mic as an “acoustic karaoke,” which means he will accompany singers on the guitar, but he does not provide the lyrics with the bouncing ball (or whatever those karaoke machines do). He also welcomes anyone who wishes to perform solo, or with his accompaniment. He had a long list of songs he can play and it amazes me what some of these open mic hosts will do to entertain. Oftentimes, bar audiences are unreceptive and to get their attention takes a bit of doing. Hosts must be diplomatic, and delicately negotiate the inebriated egos of their would-be performers. It is not a gig most professional musicians would choose to do and I’ve experienced some abysmal hosts. Sean was pretty good, and he can play anything from Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On to Blow at High Dough by The Tragically Hip. His rhythm section sounded like a drum machine but in fact was simply his boot tapping his guitar case, to which he had taped a tambourine. It was low tech for sure, but it sounded pretty good. Long ago, before I wallpapered my house with rejection notices, I had it in my mind that I would make my living “doing what I love,” playing music for the masses. That was also before I realized that the seventeen year old parking lot attendant in our office building had more talent in his pinky finger than I would ever have. I am constantly amazed by the number of talented musicians and songwriters out there who have hit the wall, pounding the pavement to make a living in music.

 If the past week is any indication, this might be a harsh winter. It has snowed up here for the past three nights, and while none of it stuck, it may be portents of bad weather to come. Seems to me the weather used to be nicer in October. Up here it’s hit or miss, because on our little lake, we often miss the lake effect streamers that blow off Georgian Bay. Every so often those squalls shift a little to the north and then we’re in trouble. My dock is still down and I’m waiting for the dock guy to come and fix a worm gear before I hoist it up. One year, shortly after we had the retractable dock put in, we were held up in Toronto because my father-in-law had contracted c-difficile and ended up in the hospital for a month. That year the weather turned bitter cold practically overnight, and before we could get home to lift up the dock, the lake froze solid. We had to have one of the guys building our house chain saw it free so we could lift it out. Nature can be a mother. 

We had another flying squirrel in the house the other day, and we found this out because the alarm company called us 4:30 AM to tell us the little bastard had tripped one of our motion sensors. Jasper and I finally got him (or her), but it wasn’t easy. A moment of silence for Lou Reed, legendary singer songwriter and founding member of the seminal rock band Velvet Underground, who passed away this weekend at 71. A lot of people probably remember Reed for his song Walk on the Wild Side, but when I think of him I am reminded of my six month university stay in Ireland back in ‘77. One particularly debauched evening, while we were drinking and smoking up a storm, and playing music at the Irish home in which I was living, I remember listening to a live Lou Reed album. That was the first time I ever got his music, and I remember how cool it was hearing him break into a live version of “Sweet Jane.” That moment, and the events which ensued, were my inspiration to write one of my all-time favorite songs. So thanks Lou, count me among the countless songwriters who have been influenced by your music.

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2013 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED