Six Degrees of Separation or Fame, What's Your Name? The photo posted below is of two of my four band mates and me playing after dinner at my house last Saturday. After that performance, one of my dinner guests "I" asked us to play at a cocktail she was having the next Friday for the incoming director of an arts organization she's part of. It's funny how small the Montreal anglo community is sometimes. "I" is a good friend and colleague of one of my friends "L". I met "L" because she's neighbours of two of my closest friends, "R" and "M". As an aside, "L" got a job that my ex was competing for a couple of years ago. My friend "R", our guitarist, is good friends with a colleague of "L"'s, who recommended our drummer to us. The drummer ("A") is a good friend of "I"'s, although she didn't know that he played with us when she invited us to play. To round everything out, I had already met "A"'s girlfriend at a bar-b-q last summer at "R" and "M"'s house, but didn't put the two of the together until the day of cocktail. If you need a diagram, email me. It was a hoot to play for strangers, and I was surprised at not only how not-nervous I was, but that people really liked us. "You like us! You really, really like us!" A few days before, we all got together to work out a set. We decided on this eclectic mix: - Fever - You'd Be So Nice to Come Home To - Rubber Duckie (yes, Ernie's song from Sesame Street) - My Heart Belongs To Daddy - Imagine - Little Boxes (made famous by Pete Seeger) - An Italian communist song that I learned when I was a Marxist-Leninist, many, many, many years ago. It may seem a little strange to go from classic jazz songs, to a kid's song, to protest songs, but it worked. I especially like howling the last line of the Communist song: "Et vivo communismo et la liberta!"--isn't that what it's all about? Since people liked us so much, we worked through the set again, adding a very improvised version of "Paper Moon" and "The (Boy) from Impanema". I love "Paper Moon" not only because it's a lovely song to sing, but because of the lyrics: Say, its only a paper moon Sailing over a cardboard sea But it wouldn't be make-believe If you were here with me Yes, it's only a canvas sky Hanging over a muslin tree But it wouldn't be make-believe If you believed in me Without your love It's a honky-tonk parade Without your love It's a melody played in a penny arcade It's a Barnum and Bailey world Just as phony as it can be But it wouldn't be make-believe If you believed in me Whenever I sing the lyric "But it wouldn't be make-believe if you believed in me" I'm reminded in a rational, clear-headed, but melancholic kind of way, that that's what I look for in friends and lovers--people who believe in me--and that it's sometimes absent in the people you wish it from the most. Such is love.... Rubber Duckie, joy of joys When I squeeze you, you make noise Rubber Duckie, you're my very best friend, it's true