This is Part Five of a Continuing Story
CLICK HERE to read Part One
CLICK HERE to read Part Two
CLICK HERE to read Part Three
CLICK HERE to read Part Four
CLICK HERE to read Part One
CLICK HERE to read Part Two
CLICK HERE to read Part Three
CLICK HERE to read Part Four
I got a telephone call at the college one day from a man who had recently purchased a restaurant located next to a waterfall on a lovely hilly spot of land about 15-miles from the college. He had heard about the new music program and our first performance, and wondered if I could recommend a student to play live music at his new club.
“What kind of music are you looking for?” I asked.
“I was thinking maybe folk music. It would be great if I could draw the college crowd out here. We have great food, but we need to get the word out.”
I visited his restaurant the next day scope it out. I was pleasantly surprised to find a large log cabin, complete with oversized wood burning fireplace, and a small stage in the corner. He offered me lunch to sample the menu, which I accepted gratefully. The food was quite good, and the ambiance made you feel like staying a while to relax and enjoy the beautiful view of the woods and cascading waterfall right outside.
“I’ve got the perfect act for you! A couple of guys who sing and perform as a duo on acoustic guitars. Frankly, they’re great at what they do. And I have no doubt they could help you build a regular audience.”
“How much do they charge?” he asked.
“That would be between you and them,” I answered, “but I suspect they’d be willing to work something out with you that would be attractive. Although they’re young, these kids are top-notch talent. I know they’d pack your place every night they played here. If I were you, I’d give them a try before someone else grabs them up.”
“What’s your cut as their manager?” he probed, eyebrow raised.
“No, I’m not their manager. I’m just their teacher. If I can help them get some more experience performing, and help them put some money in their pockets, I’m happy for both of you. Besides, lunch was good, and I might just come back for more another time!”
“You’re sure welcome here anytime!” he smiled. “And I do thank you for your help.”
With that, I gave him Bart’s telephone number, reminding him to call sooner rather than later. A few days after my lunch, Bart and Kevin visited my office at school, all excited about a new gig they had just lined up at the Falcon Crest Inn. They were booked two nights every week, this being their first paying gig, and thanked me profusely for the reference.
“How much commission do you get for the gig, Jeff?” they asked with sincerity.
“Zero! But I’d be thrilled to sit in with you two every now and then. I’m trying out a new instrument which would blend beautifully with your sound, and it would be good practice for me, too.”
“Man, we can’t thank you enough! You’re sure welcome to sit in any time you want.”
For the first few weeks of their gig, I showed up every night and sat in during the last set of the night, playing Recorder to augment their acoustic guitar and vocal arrangements. It was indeed great practice for me, and fun for them, I hope, to share their stage with me. And, if I do say so myself, we three sounded pretty darn good together. So much so that I hated leaving the stage at the end of each evening. Bart and Kevin ended up playing at the inn for several years, building up a following for themselves and a clientele for the restaurant owner. A real win-win situation like that is tough to beat. In the coming weeks, I was able to find paying gigs for a growing number of our student groups, performing at local restaurants and clubs. There was no better way for them to learn. Hearing them perform, you never would have known they were “merely” students. They put local professionals to shame.
“How much do they charge?” he asked.
“That would be between you and them,” I answered, “but I suspect they’d be willing to work something out with you that would be attractive. Although they’re young, these kids are top-notch talent. I know they’d pack your place every night they played here. If I were you, I’d give them a try before someone else grabs them up.”
“What’s your cut as their manager?” he probed, eyebrow raised.
“No, I’m not their manager. I’m just their teacher. If I can help them get some more experience performing, and help them put some money in their pockets, I’m happy for both of you. Besides, lunch was good, and I might just come back for more another time!”
“You’re sure welcome here anytime!” he smiled. “And I do thank you for your help.”
With that, I gave him Bart’s telephone number, reminding him to call sooner rather than later. A few days after my lunch, Bart and Kevin visited my office at school, all excited about a new gig they had just lined up at the Falcon Crest Inn. They were booked two nights every week, this being their first paying gig, and thanked me profusely for the reference.
“How much commission do you get for the gig, Jeff?” they asked with sincerity.
“Zero! But I’d be thrilled to sit in with you two every now and then. I’m trying out a new instrument which would blend beautifully with your sound, and it would be good practice for me, too.”
“Man, we can’t thank you enough! You’re sure welcome to sit in any time you want.”
For the first few weeks of their gig, I showed up every night and sat in during the last set of the night, playing Recorder to augment their acoustic guitar and vocal arrangements. It was indeed great practice for me, and fun for them, I hope, to share their stage with me. And, if I do say so myself, we three sounded pretty darn good together. So much so that I hated leaving the stage at the end of each evening. Bart and Kevin ended up playing at the inn for several years, building up a following for themselves and a clientele for the restaurant owner. A real win-win situation like that is tough to beat. In the coming weeks, I was able to find paying gigs for a growing number of our student groups, performing at local restaurants and clubs. There was no better way for them to learn. Hearing them perform, you never would have known they were “merely” students. They put local professionals to shame.
© Jeff Resnick 2018
All Rights Reserved
All Rights Reserved