On Tues 2/16 we hit the road (more gingerly this time, noticing carefully just how many breaches in barb-wire fences we saw) for Memphis, detouring for a power supply for my Mac, and for lunch at the inimitable 17th St. BBQ, the southern IL chain of which is a perennial world rib-cookoff champ and well-deserving of it. It seemed that the sunset came faster; and at one gas stop in Sikeston, MO we got ourselves lost (despite GPS in both of my cellphones) due to ambiguous signage--a problem that repeated itself when we found ourselves missing the I-40 turnoff and entering Memphis in a decidedly unfamiliar part of town (unfamiliar at least in daylight). We'd been looking forward to enjoying Mardi Gras on Beale St, but arrived so late we had to settle for the bar at the Marriott, with margaritas instead of hurricanes. Laissez les bons temps rouler? Hey, after the two days we had, laissez ANY temps rouler and not "tombler."
Awoke Wed. morning intending to hit the breakfast buffet, but it was all I could do to choke down a couple of cups of coffee and an Atkins bar. Yup--I had come down with not just the mother but the mother-in-law of all colds. Spent much of the day napping and then headed to Exhibit Hall setup. Only there was nothing yet to set up--nothing and nobody had arrived at our table but yours truly. It was COLD in there too--I looked longingly at the "clothing petting zoo" of velvety tops and jackets but dared not buy one. I decided to rest in my room and skip the Exhibit Hall welcome reception--just not up to it and needed to practice my parts, and conserve my strength and voice.
Eschewed dinner for a bowl of room-service soup, then napped. Uh-oh. For those of you with colds or reflux who must sing later in the day, do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT nap, no matter how rotten you feel. (I knew I had a fever, but the thermometer I did find--packed into my bags long ago when Gordy was still a kid--had such an old battery that it informed me my body temp was somewhere between Popsicle and sushi). I awoke at 8 for our 10:30 showcase with very little voice, all of it either basso profundo or Minnie-Mouse falsetto. I figured we'd focus on the songs on the CD featuring Steve on lead and me on soft harmony and instrumental prowess. I could barely croak out that harmony. By sheer dint of water, vitamin C, a tangerine (thank you, Doug Spears!), Ricolas, throat spray and hot tea with sugar and soft warmups, we were able to get through both the rehearsal for the set for which we were Cynthia Bennett's backup band (along with Chico Schwall and her husband Dick Roth), our own set (note to anyone who saw that--my voice is much better!) and then Cynthia's. On the whole it went well. We were then informed that Louis Meyers, the Exec. Dir. of FAI, wanted us to record Cynthia's hilarious parody, "The Bassist Who Never Returned" (a situation familiar to anyone who ever found themselves first waiting forever for and then unable to exit a crowded convention elevator) the next day---on a true Edison wax cylinder! (Good thing I'd brought my acoustic bass guitar!). En route back to my room and dreamland, Cynthia hugged me softly and sang a Mi Sheberach for my healing. I realized that I was in the process of making not a contact, but a real friend.
Awoke Thurs. feeling somewhere between hit-by-a-truck and death-warmed-over. Went to my final Regional Leaders luncheon, passing the FARM President baton into the able hands of Annie Capps. Nibbled my way through the omelet & salad, passed around my fries. Then off to the Trolley Stop for the wax cylinder recording.If you've never seen this before, it was like going back into a time machine. Everyone: vocalists, instrumentalists, gathered in front of a small condenser mic atop an old-fashioned gramophone horn. A hollow wax cylinder was slipped over a slightly smaller metal tube and rotated at over 100 RPM while a steel needle etched the analog of the sound funneled through the horn. Each cylinder is only 2 minutes (about 5") long, so we managed to capture only the first half of the last chorus. So another cylinder was slipped on and we picked up with the last part of the last verse. Now, you young'uns used to editing a computer-screen ProTools or Logic waveform with a few mouse clicks may never have seen analog reel-to-reel tape spliced with a metal block, a razor blade and sticky tape. Imagine going back a step further--actually cutting off parts of the wax cylinder and pressing them together to make an edit! Can't wait to hear the finished product!
Sent Steve to the Folk-DJ reception while I set up the Local 1000 table.....except none of our materials had appeared to arrive save for the guitar picks which I'd brought with me, and nobody from the union was in yet. Then, to my immense relief reports of arrivals trickled in on my cellphone and I met Local 1000's interim office mgr. Amanda--who was friendly, professional, and bearing loads of literature, forms and our two banners. We quickly set up and sat at the table, despite the still-arctic hall temps and dearth of passerby. Still, I stayed till 5:45. Steve came by and had been able to hand out only 6 CDs--the lines at the reception for each DJ were THAT long. Oh, well--there were several days left, and I had handed some out myself.
Our next showcase wasn't till 2 am in the GoGirls room. Gratefully accepted Cynthia & Dick's offer of dinner at Gus' Famous Fried Chicken (Cynthia pointed out I'd be getting my chicken soup in solid concentrated form). Madalyn Sklar of GoGirls Music, her partner and another friend came along and we had a marvelous time (although I learned the hard way that as with fried green tomatoes, one prudently eats fried pickle spears with knife and fork--those are HOT). Went back to the room to nap. Awoke at 12:20 for our 12:30 rehearsal---and I had NO voice. NONE. ZIP. NADA. Enough wind to play harmonica but my croaking wouldn't have satisfied the least discerning frog. So Steve arrived and I bludgeoned my way through every therapeutic warmup exercise I knew, gobbled Ricolas, guzzled hot tea and tepid water and whatever Singer's Saving Grace I had left--slowly my voice came back, we dropped everything a step and went for it. Arrived in the GoGirls room to find Mara Levine softly, soothingly and calmingly charming everyone--and then noticed the webcam. We weren't going to need to blast, just be ourselves, audible and entertaining. And it worked--we kicked butt and took no prisoners, knowing the world was watching. We had fun to make sure our viewers would too. We closed out the night; and if I'd had the strength to pick up Madalyn Sklar and hug her I would have--we settled for a high-five, a hug and a goodnight!