Tales from the Front

The Gig at Scott's Valley

Friday was one of those weird nights where the movie Spinal Tap meets reality. The gig, a benefit for a local dance troupe, was held at the Scott’s Valley Bible Study Center, located in a shopping mall in the Santa Cruz Mountain town of Scott’s Valley. Mike Schermer, the young blues guitarist who hired me, wanted to get there early, so I drove down from the Bay Area in the afternoon, picked him up in Santa Cruz and drove to the gig, arriving about 6:45. The plan was to have dinner, then play from 8-10pm, a short and early night. Arriving simultaneously with the caterer, we were among the first ones there.

The venue itself was a claustrophobic, low-ceilinged meeting room in a suburban strip mall. Lit by fluorescent ceiling lights and sound proof, I noticed the smell of cooking, or maybe frying, in the air. The stage, occupying a far corner of the room, was triangular in shape. Flanking the stage, a home stereo played softly providing musical accompaniment for the show to come. Nobody seemed to know what was going on.

We brought our equipment in and set it in a back alcove near the men’s -and only-restroom. Mike recognized the caterer, an old friend from Santa Cruz, said hi, then, dodging the children in pajama-like costumes tied at the waist, talked to the young woman who booked the gig and hired the band. She said to Mike, we would “play after the ceremony and presentation was finished and after dinner.” Drawing closer to him, she also said, “There is going to be a party afterward at my house” and would he like to come? He said, “Sure, but I’ll have to go home and change cars since I got a ride.” By this time the other band members arrived and found parking in the narrow strip’s lot.

Andy Santana, the harmonica player and singer, came first with the p.a. for the band, followed by Robin Roth, the drummer, and her friend Mary. We stored the equipment in a rear alcove. Andy talked to the caterer, a friend of his, then gave me a 6-pointed star shaped badge with the words “licensed junk collector," for, after all, to him, I was “the law.” I hope he’s referring to my playing. Mike, who is Jewish, told me to be careful where I wear the star because it was the “Hebrew star.” We sat down at one of the folding tables near the rear of the room and ate some of the Hershey’s kisses that were used as table decoration. We’re getting hungry, where’s the food?

The dancing had now started. The home stereo came to life playing some middle eastern music while the troupe of mostly middle aged female belly dancers entered the room, filing on the stage, carrying long knives and chanting “la-la-la-la-la” very fast. I thought, “Where’s Xena?” Upon closer inspection, the belly-dancing troupe contained the entire range of ages, from children to one senior citizen. The dancing went on for a while, and then a separate “chorus line” of children emerged from the rear alcove lead by one of the adult dancers. Dressed in a noisy costume complete with a brass serving plate on her head filled with grapes and carrying a folded tortilla on the end of a sword, the noisy dancer and chorus line snaked around the room announcing “Dinner was ready.” When she came to our table, she asked, “Would you like some grapes? Or a tortilla? “ “No thanks,” we said, but the tortilla was removed from the sword and placed on the table anyway.

Dinner finally began, and the children were the servers. Dinner included Mexican-styled shish kebob with hot green sauce, salad, beans and bread, but no rice. The belly dancing continued. Each dancer had a solo. Mike turned to me and said, “If the old lady takes her clothes off, I’m out of here.” She didn’t but did a solo anyway. The rapid “la-la-la-la-la” continued. Maybe I don’t get this, is this supposed to be good dancing? It seems more like summer camp theatre.


The next act was a chorus line featuring a Marlene Dietrich look a like doing karaoke. “Cabaret” was coming over the home stereo and the Dietrich character lip-sang and lip-talked to the recording. This was so ridiculous I could hardly contain my laughter. The performance continued with an awards ceremony, celebrating the dancers and their accomplishments. “Mike, “I said, “You really know how to pick the gigs.” We started laughing and asking where Xena was. The dancing continued. I thought, “Is there no end?”

At 9pm, with dinner and the dancing ceremonies over, we started to set up on the triangular stage. We played for and hour and five minutes, doing songs that Andy and Mike wrote for their band The Soul Drivers plus some other blues numbers. Most of the audience remained, but some left and the woman who booked the gig paid us at 10pm. On the way out I had some warmed over coffee with -- unknown to me, since I had my reading glasses off-- mocha-mint creamer. Horrible! I left, with Mike, about 10:30, $100 richer, knowing that I wouldn’t be going to the after party. I dropped Mike off in Santa Cruz and then went home.

Just to keep the record straight, Mike related to me later that he didn’t go to the after party either. The woman who invited him called around midnight wondering if he “got lost?” “No,” he answered, “I fell asleep.” Then he told me he woke up at dawn to go surfing.

posted by Unknown @ 1:15 PM