|Every Single One|
I’ve been to probably 500 rehearsals since I started playing in bands. The first one I remember was at age 16, in Mike Southworth’s basement, for a band called Funky T Franklin & The Clots. I was a Clot. So was Mike. Certainly I had not attained the lofty heights of Funky T, whose privilege it was to put her name out in front. It didn’t matter. I was happy just to be there, playing covers of old R&B songs. We played one show at the Centenoka Mall in Salmon Arm for a fundraiser for the Red Cross. I thought that was really poetic. We Clots were playing to help raise awareness and money for blood donations.
Some rehearsals are boring. Some are maddeningly frustrating, with essential members strolling in an hour late and sloooooowly setting up their gear. Some are emotional, as personal turmoils burst out in a sneak attack and everybody ends up yelling at each other for no apparent reason. Some are magic, where you are in the middle of great music being created for the first time.
But these most recent rehearsals were something different altogether. Dawn and Hilary came over to work on vocal parts for my record. We’ve known each other for years, met in music school at the jazz program at Capilano. They are my true lady friends and I’ve had so many good times with them. But we’ve never worked together professionally before. Played together a bit in school, but that was all. So they show up to my house a few times and we head up to my attic practice space and get cracking. No one is late and there is no yelling.
And I realize, again. These gals are fantastic musicians. Sometimes you can forget, that your best friends are also amazingly skilled and are out in the world doing their thing with great aplomb. Maybe I have doubts about my songs, but I know for sure that Hilary and Dawn have already made them better.