Somebody in the audience at the Friday Night Group performance asked for “Valvoline,” an old (1980) Dodson Drifters hit (it was the first of my songs ever to get airplay). So of course we played it—a lot of folks had never heard it before, but it’s simple to follow, and we did have people up dancing. Nice to know somebody remembers it and liked it. “Valvoline” is usually the example I give people when they worry about “genre”—it was written by a country-music writer (me), recorded by a bluegrass band, first aired on a jazz station in Portland, Oregon (it was probably the dual saxophone leads that got their attention), and was last being performed on stage a couple of years ago by a rock ‘n’ roll band. So what “genre” is it?

And I tracked down—finally—the author of a song I’d “musicated” a couple of years ago. Her name is Tarra Young, and the song had been written for a friend who was dying. It was one of those where I’d tweaked the lyrics a lot in the course of setting it to music, and I’d apologized copiously when I sent her the recording. And then I never heard anything. E-mails didn’t get answered, her Website was gone, and so on. It was a pretty good song—real tear-jerker—and I still had it on the computer, and wondered a lot over those couple of years what I ought to do about it if the author had up and disappeared.

Well, she hadn’t. I finally located a Soundclick page with her name on it, and yes, she’s still writing—mostly Christian music, it seems. And one of the songs on her page, hight “Angel,” is the one I set to music. And she used my recording, exactly the way I’d sent it to her. And apparently, people have been listening to it, too. Nice validation, there. I think I done okay.

Applied for yet another city-manager job, this one in Washington; I don’t know if they’ll be interested in me, and won’t hear anything before the end of the month. I would like to get the job that’s closer to home, but have no idea (again) if I’ll even get interviewed. There are relatively few jobs out there, and a lot of competition for the few I might be qualified for.

Still, it’s an opportunity to fantasize about how I might make a name for myself in a new community. There are both opportunities and difficulties everywhere I go. I need three things, I think: places to play, opportunities to play, and people to play with. If they don’t exist, they have to be created. Here on the northern Oregon Coast, the dearth of opportunities and places seems to be greatest for solo performers—of which I, at the moment, am one. There are gigs—mostly tavern gigs—for bands, but relatively few bands; the same names keep showing up over and over.

And there is virtually no original music. (I’d forgotten what that was like.) Here on the northern Oregon Coast, I am just about the only songwriter I know. That’s not a bad thing—my material is danceable, and playable, and fits right in with everybody’s covers, and I have my Standard Mantra that I can’t perform most other people’s stuff because I don’t have the voice range. Still, it’s a distinct contrast with southern Oregon, where almost all the music you’d hear, good and bad, was original, and there were some venues that wouldn’t book anything but original music. It’s not going to affect what I do, because I do have the voice-range problem, and entertainment is entertainment—it doesn’t matter who wrote it, or even if it’s familiar, as long as it’s good and people can dance to it.

So Joe needs a band. How does he get one? Well, first Joe has got to get out more, get to know more people, and see what the market is like. The Friday Night Group is a big thing, but not enough. If there aren’t more venues to play, create (or help create) them. For instance, the head county librarian, who’s become a regular at the Friday Night Group sessions, wants to start something similar on Saturday afternoons at the Main Library in Tillamook, and I volunteered to come. There are a few folks determined to make the jam sessions at the State Forestry Center, 30 miles away, a regular thing; I’ll go with them (might have to carpool). If I get the city manager job in Wheeler, I’ll see if I can start live music at a local restaurant. (There’s only a couple.) And everywhere I run into other musicians, if they’re any good, they get the spiel, “This would sound a whole lot better with a band.”

Another good way to run into musicians is to help promote a musical event. That’s an additional advantage of helping with next year’s Harvest Festival—but I bet the “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival could use help, too.

UPDATES: There was a front-page article (a small one) about the Harvest Festival in the paper, but it didn’t mention me, and didn’t include my picture. (Not surprising—the photo was taken in the sunlight, and there was no sunlight in the pole barn where I was playing.) I’m supposed to get my free copy of the Philippine Christmas album with my song on it in a couple of weeks. And the Old Mill (an old plywood mill turned RV park in Garibaldi) is starting up their pre-Christmas Saturday crafts market, with entertainment; I didn’t get to play last year, because I was working out of town, but I want to be one of their performers this year. It pays, even—and I could use the money.

Joe