Dakota Xmas Show


It took us 2-1/2 hours to get to downtown Minneapolis last night for our gig at the Dakota Jazz Club. As usual, Jeff & I meet at the Clearwater Travel Plaza and travel the rest of the way together. When we were about a mile and a half from the Hasty, MN exit traffic slowed down to 5 mph. We crawled along, looking at all the four-wheel drive vehicles in the ditch (those people are idiots, they think because they have four-wheel drive that they can drive normally when there's 2 inches of snow on the ground) with a plan: we'd take the Hasty exit (I know, I know) and take as many back roads as we could. We must have passed 100 cars or more!

We rolled into downtown Minneapolis, late for a meeting we were going to have with a guy who wants to rep my coffee in the twin cities (keep your fingers crossed), but on time for our gig. We played from 7 until 11 pm... and made $100. That fits in perfectly with what we call the "Engholm Corollary" (yes, we know it's not really a corollary): The more they're listening to you, the less you get paid."

We have played "wallpaper" gigs in a room full of conventioneers and gotten paid ridiculous amounts of money, but when we play one of the premiere jazz clubs in the nation, we get $100. And half price drinks, to be fair.

All in all, though, it was a very fun night, but a little long. I would have been happier playing only two sets instead of three. But it's such an honor to play that stage. The piano is signed on the inside by a veritable "who's who" of famous jazz players, I never feel worthy of being there.

That was the last holiday show of 2007. Now onto New Year's Eve...


Powered by ScribeFire.

Comments

Jen said…
Glad you guys made it safely, geez. One doesn't normally think that "musician" is a particularly dangerous job title, but I think that may need to be reconsidered in MN. Maybe you could start charging hazzard pay for any gigs between the months of December and March. Or April. Er, um, May. It IS MN after all.

Popular posts from this blog

RIP Seth Parent

Car Repair: the Next Generation

RIP Marty