A couple nights ago I gigged a hospital corporate party with an enclave of pro musicians from around town. The organizer of the gig is a good friend of mine who is probably the best front man I’ve ever played with in my life. We had a bunch of tunes on the set list that featured some screeching rock classics; Separate Ways, Rock & Roll, Synchronicity II, among others. I guess when you work in the emergency room of a hospital these types of songs are considered calming devices.
It had been almost 18 years since I last played Separate Ways. If I recall correctly, that last time was when WS was jamming out at the QOHS pool during the back half of the Vermont senior high band home-and-away cultural exchange. And by ‘culture’ I mean the exchange of body fluids. At least for some of us. In the back seat of our cars.
But I digress. The point here is that I was floored 18 years of my life had past. 18 years ago. Kids born that night are now going to college. The price of a movie ticket has gone up 2,456%. Elephants have lost their memory.
At least everyone in the corporate crowd was rocking out to the tune. It wasn’t as though we were staring off the stage into an abyss of questioning frowns with hands covering their ears. It wasn’t as though a client spokesman was dispatched reluctantly to push their way to the stage through the force of our amplitude and to yell over the wailing rock coda solo a request to stop playing the oldies. That would have caused me pain.
And Ben, if you’re out there, I remembered my harmony part on the chorus.