Well, I did it. I've been playing upright for a little over a year and I had my first gig. Yeah, I've played the upright in the P&T show and that's sure a professional gig, but it's different. This was a real gig. It was a jazz duo with Jimmy McIntosh on electric guitar and me on the upright acoustic bass. That was it. No magic tricks, no talking, no jokes. Just my "Real Book" and my ax. I was making a little more than a couple orders of magnitude less than I make for P&T. We were playing at a restaurant called Jazzed in North West Las Vegas. I guess over the 3 hours that we played; there were maybe 25 or 30 people there. They were eating. My friends really came out. Chris, Kelli, Johnny, Pam, Lance, Close, Zeke, and others. The restaurant did better business because of us, I'm sure. Now even though I was a bottom tier jazz musician, I still had a roadie. I'll humiliate myself doing something I don't know how to do in public, but it's hard to imagine something that could make me schlep. So, a good part of my salary went to Zeke. He brought my ax, my music stand, my very expensive chair, my tuner, and even my bow and my little cloth. When I got to the restaurant, he had it all set up. The owners of the restaurant said I was the only one to have ever had a roadie. But, schlepping and then playing would have broken me.

So, I showed up in my pork pie hat from Optimo, and I sat down. Jimmy and I tuned up. No one was there. We got ready. I realized that I hadn't counted on romantic lighting so I couldn't see my music as well as I wanted. Zeke came to the rescue and ran and got me a book light. That saved the day. I had my glass of water and Jimmy had our set list. He called the first tune. I've forgotten now, but I think it was "All the Things You Are." Jazz duos are really hard. Especially with just a guitar. You're just hanging out there. Every little mistake in intonation is clear (I'm just hoping to hear it first) and I have to really think about the pulse all the time. On top of that, Chris and Jonesy really push me to "dig in" and play loud and rough and make it growl. They love that sound and so do I, but Jimmy likes a mellower feel, so I was trying to play lighter. It's a lot harder for me to groove that way, and it's harder for me to really feel the pulse. But, I did okay. Man, my world was nothing but that page and my hands. I was sweating under the brim of that wonderful Chicago hat from my brother, Tony. I kept my suit jacket on, because that seemed jazz. There was NO ONE in the restaurant except friends and staff, but it was so hard. My stomach was all over the place and it was hard to catch my breath. I disappeared into that place that is pure concentration. I tried to listen to Jimmy, I tried to stay in tune. I was aware that my playing was very stilted. I had to loosen up. Being under pressure to loosen up, is really tough, but I worked on it. Never mind, Jimmy's tone, I started to dig in a little and it got better.

Friends started showing up. I was shocked to see Lance, but he was there with his son. He's amazing. That's real support from a friend. I didn't tell him about it, but one of his dancers owns the restaurant. Lance was there with his son and he was very supportive. It was really wonderful that he came by. Close and Johnny were there (with other friends) and they both play jazz. Johnny plays bass harmonica, so it was really hard to play in front of him. Man, it made me crazy, but that's why I was there. I've played for more people at my house, but this was real public. And even friends in real public make a difference. It was so hard.

Now, I worked for this gig. I even played the ENTIRE GIG, with breaks and everything with Jimmy the day before. I have NEVER done that for P&T. We've never run a whole show. Ever. We rarely run a whole bit. But, I have a certain amount of skill and talent in the stuff I do with P&T. With jazz bass, I lack both. So, I needed practice and rehearsal like crazy.

I want to talk a little bit about why I'm playing bass. Close's first music gig was when he was 13, Johnny was in his teens, Chris was in his early teens. It was really hard for them. I'm 46. 46 years old and I've been playing a year. It's weird to have people say you did good considering . . . . I want P&T to just be good. Full stop. But, with bass it'll always be " . . . . for how long you've been playing. " Or ". . . . for an amateur." I don't know. Why do it? I think it has to do with my Mom and Dad dying. I wanted to pour myself into something. But, more important, as awful as this sounds, I wanted to do something I wasn't good at. I really needed the feeling of working on something that wasn't easy. I'm good at being Penn. I really am. Every thing I do with Teller is hard, and it's always hard to keep up with him, but it's in a field that I know something. I really felt the need to be awful at something. One of the reasons was to feel myself getting better. When you get to a certain point at something, you don't feel yourself getting better. You can't. The changes are too subtle. I'm better at being Penn in P&T than I was even a year ago, but how do I quantify that? What can I say? How do I feel that improvement that I lived for when I started juggling? When you're new to something, it's wonderful - "I can play an F blues and I couldn't do that last week." So, I needed to get better fast at something. Strangely, it's the incompetence that allows pride of improvement and humility of failure so readily.

Is it embarrassing that I'm doing this in public? Probably. It's probably wrong. It's a very weird kind of masochistic self-indulgence, but I needed it. I wanted it.

The first set was over, and people were very kind. Very kind. I think we sounded okay. I think if you were eating and talking, you wouldn't notice that I was too repetitious, and lacked ideas and occasionally lost the pulse. I was too nervous to really eat, but I finished up some of Kelli's pasta. I tried to make some jokes with Close and Johnny, but I wasn't my usual self. All I could think about was changes and my fingers and my bass.

The second set Chris sat in on vibes. With him driving and blowing, it was a lot easier. I could play out and I got the groove easier. We did "Just Friends." This was one of my two planned tunes for a solo. All the way through Chris and Jimmy's solos, I was trying to think of ideas. Trying to listen to what they were laying down that I could try to build on. I was thinking solos while keeping the pulse. Jimmy forgot. He forgot to give me a solo. He just said to Chris, "take it out," and we did. It really broke my heart. I was so scared of that solo. I was hoping it would never come, but I really wanted to do it. I was poised and ready. But, okay. I made some jokes and the crowd laughed and I felt I was cheating. They were happy Penn was making jokes, they weren't just hearing music.

We played some more without Chris and ended with "Scotch and Soda." This was my second planned solo, and I also like to sing just a little, really quiet, at the end. But, I'd screwed myself. The talk about the solo, made Jimmy say this tune would feature me. I lost confidence in my intonation. I was afraid of the neck. My solo came and I wasn't nutty. I didn't hit it and a few of the notes weren't where I wanted. I got timid on ideas and just outlined the chords. It wasn't good. And I crashed and burned on the vocal too. It didn't have the easy love of the song that it had in practice. That ended the set.

I sat down with Johnny and joked about missing the solo. Johnny said, "Well, it's good to work on getting the time and the changes before you solo anyway" and I realized that Johnny didn't think I was doing well. I really crashed hard. I think it was really only "Scotch and Soda" and only that I had shot myself in the foot. It really crashed me. I wanted to work hard on this bass thing and get all these feelings and I was getting them. Man. But, even with that, I was doing okay.

Right before out third set some strangers came up to us. Some just commented on me being "very talented." They were just happy to see a magician do something else. That didn't mean much to me. But, one guy talked about our sound and my tone. That made me very happy. We played the last set. Lance, Johnny, Close and their gang had left and it was down to Zeke, Kelli, Chris and a few others. I played through the set, but I was pretty spacey. I didn't really get the groove. I tried to get a hold of it, but it was hard. We finished up. I think management was happy that we'd brought in so many people and they thought the music was okay, I guess. I really wanted to have a few ideas. I really wanted to have a sound. The having to play soft hurt me, and well . . . lack of talent and skill didn't help. It was very emotional, very humbling. I couldn't eat.

Morrie is an amazing teacher. In one year, he got me here. I mean, if you just walked in and didn't know anything, I think it would have just been some schmuck on bass. I think I wouldn't have been noticed. And that's the first goal, not to be noticed. The second goal is to be noticed for the right reasons.

I think it was exactly what I wanted. If you're middle- aged and want to feel young again, try jazz. Not because it'll fill you with joy, but because you'll feel how little you know and how hard art is. I really think I did okay. I really think I'm proud of what I did. I really think I'm proud that I'm willing to try something new. I think I played okay a few times. I have a lot of ideas. I have some ideas of how I want to sound. I want to dig in and growl. I have some ideas of what I have to work on. I want to play in this situation with Chris and/or Jonesy. The pulse and the intonation will be easier for me, and because I play with them more, I'll have more confidence and their style gives me a little more help.

I also want to think about what sounds I really want. I want to start getting ideas. I think I can get good enough that I can express myself in this form. I think I have something in me that can't be said in words, and I want to learn to say it with music. I'm getting feelings and ideas. I'm working on this. I want to thank everyone who's helping me with this. It means the world.

I played a jazz gig. A real jazz gig. Zeke loaded out everything and I walked out into the Vegas night to let the cold evaporate the sweat under my hat and suit coat. I played a jazz gig. I did.

Penn

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