I am a successful musician. You can tell because I have a website and a blog. I also have a CD coming out soon ... If you don't know what that means, it stands for Compact Disc.

I'm kind of a big deal.

Gag. Gack.

I thought I'd start my first blog with a photo from a memorable performance at Bull Feeney's, one of 56 Irish Pubs in Portland, Maine.

I signed up for this musical gathering without much thought. The hosts were members of a musicians support group of sorts called Just Plain Folks (tag line, "We're all in this together!"), and the rules were simple: One night, one song, no tuning on stage. A chance to network and see what else is goin' on out there in the rural Maine music scene!!!

Maybe it was the generic, yellow, smiley faces that were plastered all over the website, or the lengthy essays about 'the music biz' that were pouring into my inbox, but the judge in me knew that this was going to be a bar full of rookies.


My boyfriend and I showed up a couple of hours before I was slotted to go on. We began pounding beers, and quietly mocking the performers with their cliché lyrics, guitar-pick earrings and Birkenstocks. Some people were singing along with karaoke tracks, eyes closed, heads thrown back, hips swaying in tight white jeans.

I ordered another round and checked in with the host. Two more performers and I was on. As I said, the rules to this gig were clear: One song and one song only. With about 35 people on the list, it was critical that the transition between performers was tight. The most important rule to follow was to AVOID TUNING ON STAGE. I cannot tell you how many times this message was reinforced. Multitudes of emails, friendly reminders, and posters around the bar said, "Don't forget to tune before you get one stage!"

I unwrapped my guitar from the case and put my ear to the strings. Above the din of "The Cookie Cutter Girl," I could barely hear my guitar, but I knew it would be just fine.

I swaggered to the stage, plugged in and strummed the open strings of my new guitar. The unusual and self-invented open tuning is a strange one. Discordant. Evocative. Intense. Because the song is built from the foundation of this unusual open tuning, it is critical that it is precise.

What I heard was not precise. Look at the photo again. What am I, the practiced, experienced, and talented musician doing in this action shot? Can you almost hear me laughing nervously as I whisper into the mic with just the touch of a slur that 'I'll get it in juuuust a second?' Can you hear the sweat dripping down my back? Can you see the looks of sympathy and disgust and encouragement from all the other musicians in the crowd?

Not one "rookie" before me had taken the time to tune their guitars on stage. They took care of it before hand. Like professionals. Like successful musicians who respect the opportunity to perform to a live crowd.

This was the worst performance of my life. It was so unbearable that one friend, and president of the Maine Songwriter's Association, said "I'm so sorry," when I got off stage. What a gift. What a humbling, wonderful gift. When is that judge in me going to learn to shut the fuck up?

Thanks, Just Plain Folks. Not a G.D. one of you would I describe as "plain" but I guess we really are all in this together.

So, here's to failure! And to music. And to my adorable, perfect little website, and to my new blog, and to my brilliant boyfriend for making it fun and easy (for me). Narcissismm really is useful if you want to share your art. And art lives.

Hasta luego,
Megan

P.S. - I made the t-shirt myself. The back says, "Move it."