The Rockford Files, Part 1
Friday, October 1, 2010 at 08:02AM A month ago:
I remark to my friend Bob, who plays bass in my band, that I’m feeling less and less useful as a musician. The music I like, the music I know, is now ‘classic’, and the new music leaves me…if not cold, then lukewarm. It all sounds like U2 to me, and I really don’t like U2 very much.
Two weeks ago:
Doug, an old friend and former bandmate, calls me. He’s the pastor of Rockford Resurrection Life Church, and he needs a keyboard player for a few months. Says the regular guy has moved on, and until they find a replacement, he’ll take me as many Sundays as he can get me, now through Christmas. When he tells me the name of the guy I’m replacing, I recognize it immediately—this is a player I really respect. If HE plays for them, it might be a pretty good band. Doug goes on to say they play of lot of the cool contemporary stuff. When he names a few names, I realize he’s talking about the U2-influenced recordings. I hesitate, he offers me decent money, I stop hesitating.
Last week Thursday:
I head out to Rockford to check out the scene. Their music guy is friendly, personable, and I like him immediately. He’s not terribly young, but has pointy hair and black glasses. I have black glasses, but my hair is still high-school-hair. I can’t bring myself to wear my hair pointy, with a lot of product. I wonder if it’s symptomatic (along with my dislike for ‘new’ music) of a larger, aging-related issue, or if, like Samson, my hair is hindering me. Either way, a voice whispers in my ear: “That ‘new’ sound is 30 YEARS OLD, Mr. Schief”. It’s come to this: my inner voice is calling me Mr. Schief.
Last week Friday:
I download the charts and mp3’s for the upcoming weekend (okay, THIS part I like, the downloading), and listen through everything. No problem. I should be able to easily keep up. Steve, the music director, tells me, “We do the songs just like the CD, so make sure you listen to the piano and organ parts.” I listen, and I hear one or two little things I should probably get familiar with. I spend maybe an hour with the music, sort of listening and re-organizing the charts to my liking.
Sunday:
6:50 am: I sit in the parking lot at the church, and my heart is pounding. This is about more than just playing a couple weekends at a church, I realize. There are a bunch of people here I used to do church with, used to hang with, people from my other life—the life of my first marriage, a different church family, a different era. I think they’re expecting something from me.
7:05am It’s just me and the janitor. Got my music set up, keyboards fired up and tested. I think I’m ready.
7:15am Everybody comes in at the same time. Handshakes all around. Jonathon, who is Doug’s son and used to be my student, says, “Where’s the fat guy with the beard?”
7:20am The good news is I can adjust my own monitor settings. The bad news is I can’t figure it out. Can’t hear vocals, and I’m hearing mostly one of the guitars and the other keyboard.
7:30am I’m in the weeds. I don’t know the little parts I thought I knew, and they’re switching from song to song at a breathtaking pace. This is a good band, seasoned players. They sound great. Steve comes over. “Hey, really, really glad you’re here this morning. About that little part in the intro…” I’ve switched places. It used to be me helping out the guy in the weeds. It’s humbling. Well, it’s humiliating. It’s humiliating, but it’s also kinda funny, if I watch it from a third person perspective.
8:20am The service starts, and I absolutely RIP IT UP on the Hammond organ. I surprise even myself.
8:25am Too much self-congratulation. The song ends, I take literally three seconds to savor the moment, and hear the click track starting for the next song. No! I’m not ready. What sound do I need for the next song? What’s that little part I’m supposed to know? Crap--I’m supposed to be at the other keyboard. Crap crap crap.
8:45am We’re wallking off the stage, heading back to the office for breakfast. Steve says, “Hey, the hard part is done, getting used to a new situation and all.” I appreciate his words, but hate it that he even feels he has to say them.
10:00am I play worse than the first service. Can’t remember JACK. There’s a moment when the song is starting, and I know I have a little part to play. I can’t remember the little part. Steve looks over at me from the guitar, and I avoid his gaze.
11:20am Back on my feet, third service I play respectably.
1:15pm. Pulling through McDonald’s, hands shaking from the adrenaline come-down. I realize I have two choices: either get with the program, or get old. I’m getting with the program. I'm on again this coming Sunday, we’ll see how I do. Maybe I can show the young guys a thing or two. FAR more likely they’ll show me something. I’m ready.
Reader Comments (4)
Thanks for sharing in such an honest way about your experience. I have sat in for different churches and played with different praise bands and I know exactly what you are talking about. One time I filled in at the very last minute at a church and had no time to check out the environment before the service began. The worst part of that experience was the position of the piano - my back was to everyone and I had to keep craning my neck around to see when to start and stop.....
I love it! There has to be a ton of these nightmares floating around. Next Music Director Lunch, I think we should trade horror stories.
I thought I was the only one who didn't care for U2! And I still have high school hair, too. I couldn't help but think as I was reading, "so Ed now knows how I felt playing in his worship band"! Good to see you writing on this blog again!!!
Thank you, thank you, thank you. This is the hardest I have laughed all week! You are a JOY! (Now go buy some goop :) )