It's been three years since I played Cleveland, and it's been too long. This time, I wouldn't be doing a solo set, but playing on sound artist/sculptor Frank Ferraro's amplified metal cart again, like I did on New Year's Eve 2004/2005. Frank, Steve and I rehearsed on Thursday night, and it was really good--we put the sanding disc through the Ibanez DML-10, and we got some serious Neubauten textures out of that. Cabling would be a problem, though, so I made plans with Steve for him to bring his Line6 Echo Park, while I'd bring my Line6 DL-4 in addition to the venerable DML-10.

Start time was at noon, so I woke up at the unmusicianly hour of 7. Patricia and the Young Man dropped me off at Steve's place, where I hitched a ride with Steve and his family. I could feel a cold threatening to come on, so I brought the thermos of licorice root and Throat Coat tea--I figured that with enough of that, I'd be fine, and it did indeed help me get through. We were in Clevo by 11:30, and much to my surprise, the final stretches of the drive were very quick. Due to construction changing some exits, I had to pay attention as navigator, and soon we were on deck in...roughly the right neighborhood. A few minutes later, we'd figured it out, and we were pulled up beside the gallery.

Staff were friendly, and load-in was OK, with our collaborators already there, though I discovered quickly enough that I'd brought the wrong AC adapter for the Ibanez, and I'd have to rely on the failing battery. Damn. I'd make it work, though.

Sound check was quick, but rehearsals...were a bit troubling. There was some scheduling conflict which kept us from having our usual drummers with us, but the gallery promised that they'd have some percussionists for us. They were, however, using a definition of "percussionist" with which I was unfamiliar: what we got was a visual artist and a self-described trumpet player, neither of whom could hold a beat if one were duct-taped to their randomly swinging hands. The beat in question wasn't a difficult one, either--a couple steps more simple than the Bo Diddley beat. (Rather than "chunk, chunk, chunk, a-ka-CHUNK," they were to have done "Chunk, Chunk, rest, rest." How hard could it be? They didn't even have to swing.)

Gradually our audience filtered in, mostly gallery folk or other artists, but we didn't want to push back our start time any more. We were off on Steve's "Work Song," but alas, the percussionists were so random that Frank stepped up and pulled them off the job in mid-performance. While it was a bit of a speed-bump, all the rest of us were experienced enough improvisers that we could keep going, though we'd just have to turn up the intensity. We went through the work song, some extended improvs, and our version of "Jumpin' Jack Flash" with psychedelic uke, and it generally seemed to go well. The gallery owner liked the show, and said she wants us back, so that's promising. (I dropped some CDs with the staff, though I've not heard anything back myself.)

After we broke down the gear, there was a roundtable discussion of culture and cities, which was kind of interesting, getting the Cleveland perspective. We did snag some of the appetizers at the gallery, but we cleared out before the noise bands started an hour or so later. Frank suggested that we meet up for a late lunch near the West Side Market, which was itself pretty impressive. We ended up going up the street a half block to a great small Middle-Eastern place, where I scored a good-sized and tasty falafel wrap for $2.95. After lunch, Steve, Mary, Leo and I headed across the street to a Belgian bar, where we old people checked out a very tasty Belgian Grand Cru, then got a dessert at a nearby Cuban place before heading home. I was back in the door by 8. In many ways, a good out of town gig, even with the drumming hassles and the smaller audience.