last night was our first practice since we debuted our new stuff to the appreciative crowd down at Gusto. still kinda high off it.

wait, I guess in musician parlance these are "rehearsals." "practice" is what you do at home, all the scales and exercises and other recommended repetitions.

my bad yall, this is all super new for me...just got my green belt in "musician."

in any event, needing to more perfectly exhibit a number that got a few fingerprints in it during our performance last week--there's a reason why I called the debut feature "WET PAINT" eh, works in progress and all that--we started out with it this time around, Zi's voice rang out around the lived-in beach bar that serves as training grounds for The Pleasant Uprising:

"fly my flag

stake my claim

live my life

play my game"

we're all lucky to be playing with her...with one another, so many diverse talents in our little collective. 

take Emma for example, our bassman who I often refer to as "EQ" in this space...to this table he brings attention to detail, meticulous musicianship, and a dose of The Funk strong enough for the grooviest band on this latitude line.

a few bar patrons, probably left over from happy hour, begin to take interest as the song swells..."wait, we haven't heard this one before, have we?"

just across the future dance floor, a couple of passerby linger in the doorframe, gently jammin'. must not be terrible, right?

from the best seat in the house--a tactical single-passenger beanbag chair in our signature Riot Rose color--I see all this. 

I see everything from my perch at the top of the formation. I always do.

it's where I can watch percussionist Kool Kim go into one of his rhythmic trances...he'd be more than qualified for the position on jazz chops alone, but if he were a quarter the drummer he was, he'd still be a great fit for the group just for the vibes. check him out up there next time, the man BECOMES the beat.

I watch another pair of patrons walk in the door, evaluate the band on stage, and after a short conference, elect to hang out here.

folx dig this one...better move it up in the setlist. basic market research.

oop, but wait...malfunction at the junction! better go from the top.

wait we started out a little slow, maybe one more time!

sht, came in late. this time it's my fault. all good, everybody gets one....otra vez, desde arriba!

somewhere in development Mili elected to atomize the former MIDI riff, gently scattering the pieces over the groove with outstretched fingers like a sprinkling of salt over a steak costing a month's rent...he has full latitude to do this, after all our guitarist is the longest tenured member of the band not named ZiZi or writing this post.

besides, EOD he's the guy with the weapon, I just draw up the attack plans: big colorful shapes with plenty of space for the instrumentalists to fill in finer lines.

it's a collaborative effort. a long one.

exhausted from a long day and the evening heat in this welcoming little warehouse, I allow myself to sink a bit into the beanbag...but only for a second.

see, even when I'm not necessarily performing, I'm always playing my part...after all, I AM the only guy on the stage with a free punchin' hand, feel me?

like, by now I know the songs...I WROTE most of 'em, letter by letter, line by line. for me, rehearsing them is secondary.

my vigilant eye is the skill that I have come to hone tonight.

I rehearse keeping a constant view of the "crowd"--like 5 people total right now, enough to maybe love us. one day soon many many more, and there will be no AstroWorld on my watch.

(fuck Travis Scott personally for that, btw. you suck bro.)

I sit and watch, sensing unexpected changes--we have a fair bit of jam band DNA, if the song's almost over but The People are moving and the groove must flow then we either have to do a soft reset or transition into another song on the fly...hell, even when things are on schedule, keeping tabs on Zi's agile vocal improvisations takes a fair bit of focus for this ex-choirboy.

"treasure the present

life comes at you fast

life comes at you fast"

okay this is it, right? cruisin' through verse 2, we're about to hit the bridge and--nope, hold everything, a raised fist from the bassman cuts the music.

EQ's not happy...how tf we gonna win this battle with a displeased bassist? it's like trying to win an ass-kicking contest neck deep in the nearby Pacific.

if you ain't flowing, you're flailing. ain't a damn thing funky about that.

guess it did speed up a bit. fuck. run it yet again.

I see the venue's tired manager, beginning to wilt behind the bar, 3 band practices deep on the day, close to midnight.

yeah I sortakinda wanna go home too--nobody gets into a band specifically to rehearse, that's why there must be beer--but there is work yet to be done.

done again.

and again.

maybe one more time?

definitely one more, last one.

finally, after eleventeen tries, we get it right. I can see it be correct, as The People begin to move as prescribed by the beat. 

Emma holds down the rhythm from the first note. Kim locks in step with the beat, filling in spaces with flutters and flair...we're rolling.

Mili plugs in with the first round of the riff...not only much needed edge and texture, but a signal. Our songbird starts up again...perfect as usual.

I notice the manager perk up this time...he's seen A LOT of bands, he has to have a 6th sense for when they're firing on all cylinders.

we cross the bridge, and all is well for 80 percent of us.

...but a team mecha--your Megazord, your Voltron--has 5 pieces, yeah?

and so, drawing back some focus from the world beyond my seat, I listen out for my cue...I close my eyes, and manage a fresh reconsideration of what the lyrics are, what they mean, and how best to deliver them...okay here we GO 

4

3

2

"JUST WHO DO I THINK I AM??"

nailed my verse...like I said, I wrote it. came from the heart.

over 2 hours in, our respective talents meet in the middle for a few magic minutes of music. we work out an ending on the spot and finish with a flourish.

you're not doing all that bad when you get applauded at practice.

oh yeah, the track? 

"ima be myself." 

could not have written it any better.

all power to the people.

--Flor!