…2..3..4, an Xperience Article

…2..3..4, an Xperience Article – by Chris Busone.

In the grand scheme of things, the life of a local artist isn’t flush with rewards, be they monetary or otherwise. Nights can be long, attendance can at times be spotty at best, and gigs harder to find than a hairy ape-man in the Himalayas.

So why do we do it? It’s a valid question. Let’s talk about it.

To be fair, I don’t think anyone starts out to be a “local” artist. I know I didn’t. No one exclaims from the back seat of the family Pontiac at seven years old, “Dad, someday I’m gonna rock the house over at Ginger’s Ten-Ten Lounge!!” I have to believe we all began our artistic sojourns with loftier goals. And even though the percentages are against us, and in the face of sometimes surly club owners, cramped stages erected on milk crates, and “ONLY DOMESTIC DRAFT BEERS ARE FREE FOR THE BAND” … we soldier on.

I personally have been at this since the early ‘80s, straight outta high school, and set out for parts unknown with a band comprised of my best friends in the world. We went to places like Portland, Potsdam, Presque Isle, and Walla Walla, Washington. We located these entertainment meccas like savages, without the aid of GPS and smartphones. Just Rand McNally maps lit by cigarette lighters, in a dark, unregistered van, on those unfamiliar highways and byways.

But just as Roderick Thorp tells us (and John McClane’s dirty T-shirt serves up a reminder), “Nothing Lasts Forever.” By the end of the ‘90s, the gigs became fewer and further between, the money less, and the crowds easier to circumnavigate when heading to the bar between sets. Fate, it seemed, was writing on the barroom walls with its indelible Marky Sharper that the end of this version of our existence was nigh.

Which brings us back to our original question: why, oh why, do we do it?

As with anyone, I can only speak for myself. But I have a sense that this may ring true for some of you as well.

I continue to do it because it’s who I am. It’s so much a part of me I’m not quite sure who I’d be without it, and I have zero interest in finding out. Moreover, it’s the only thing anyone ever told me I was good at. And when I’m doing it, I feel like I’m good at it, like I’m good at everything. And that feeling sustains and revitalizes me. It’s lifted me to heights I never thought I could reach and always leaves me hungering for more.

So, I don’t want to come off as maudlin and lamenting my tragic existence as a misunderstood, underappreciated artist here. The fact is … I love it. I love everything about it. There are still great clubs and their owners who are still plugging away and hanging in there because they love it, too. I love the incredible collaborations with other musicians and bands. And ya, maybe the crowds are a bit smaller these days, but those people out there are the ones who actually came out tonight, so goddamn it, they get every single ounce of what I have to give every single time I go up on a stage – even if it IS propped up on milk crates.

So, in the spirit of “sometimes the answer is right in front of you,” I guess the answer to our query is a simple one. Why do we do it? Because we love it. And we’ll take it any way we can get it.

So, count it off …2…3…4…