Late summer of 2005 we took our third and last child to Oxford, MS, to start college. When it's your third, and it's a boy, it's pretty much 'here ya go kid, give us a call if you need something.'
Oxford is about an hour from Memphis and I had always wanted to visit the famous Beale Street so off we went.
My intention was to hit multiple spots in order to hear as many bands as possible and just see what there was to see. The very first place we went to was the Flying Saucer Café where we saw a 3 man band called The Dempseys. They were mesmerizing. Three fabulous musicians who had an energy and power to them, led by this upright bass player named Joe Fick whose persona dominated the stage.
He is a jockey sized maniac who gets his hands on a bass and drives it hard to the finish line of every song, his face a kinetic combination of contortions that would make Jim Carrey proud.
We finally left to see other bands simply because I felt obligated not to come to Beale and sit in one spot all night, but the rest of the bands paled in comparison and it wasn't long before I was back at the Flying Saucer. I was a Dempseys fan, but mainly I was a Joe Fick fan.
I followed the band from afar and sometimes saw them on Nashville's Broadway as they made their occasional visit. Ultimately the Dempseys broke up and Joe made his way to Nashville permanently in 2009.
It was interesting talking with him at lunch last week without a crowd or a stage or noise.
I think I operate on the assumption that musicians are supernovas whose ultimate genetically wired blowup is a matter of when not if. To the contrary he actually seems grounded and normal, refreshing in his understanding of the daily fragility of his world. Will all the guys in the band show up? Will the bar keep your band? Will the band keep you? Will there be a crowd? Will the tip jar get filled?
The life he leads seems brutal, physically and emotionally.
11 gigs a week, 4 hours each, which means some of those days start at 630PM and end about 3AM the next day. And we're not talking about some desk job, we're talking about non stop high energy performance on every song or you lose the crowd and their tips.
It is bottom line musical capitalism Nashville style: you entertain me, I tip you, otherwise I walk down Broadway till I find somebody better than you. There is a Darwinian feel to it that must hit the newly arrived musicians hard when they come to town chasing their dream.
Days off? Few and far between, and you take them at the risk of being musically Wally Pipp'ed.
Competition for your job? You get comfortable with your skills and place in the pecking order at your own peril. The new young stud might be showing up any day now.
And yet when I ask if he can do this the rest of his life the answer is yes. I don't know how many times in our conversation I heard the phrase 'I just want to play.'
What a powerful creative force that must be inside a musician like him, the constant desire to just keep doing what he does, to just play, on a stage, with a band, and a crowd, night after night.
I just want to play.
We talked about the steady arrival of new talent to town hell bent on "making it." Defined as what, he asked? Is it millions of dollars? Is it a number one single? Is it your face on the billboards?
Or do you just want to play and then see what life brings you?
I just want to play.
Joe has that crazy ass passion. It hits you in the face when you see him on stage and it hits you in the heart when you're lucky enough to just sit and talk to him like I was.
I think Joe Fick is making it and doing it on his own terms and by his own definition. He doesn't kid himself about the business end of music. He's got a girl, a house, a band, and a life.
He just wants to play.
KS
By the way, a great place to catch Joe on Broadway is 5 nights a week at Roberts Western World with the Don Kelley Band, in my opinion the best show on the street.
Oxford is about an hour from Memphis and I had always wanted to visit the famous Beale Street so off we went.
My intention was to hit multiple spots in order to hear as many bands as possible and just see what there was to see. The very first place we went to was the Flying Saucer Café where we saw a 3 man band called The Dempseys. They were mesmerizing. Three fabulous musicians who had an energy and power to them, led by this upright bass player named Joe Fick whose persona dominated the stage.
He is a jockey sized maniac who gets his hands on a bass and drives it hard to the finish line of every song, his face a kinetic combination of contortions that would make Jim Carrey proud.
We finally left to see other bands simply because I felt obligated not to come to Beale and sit in one spot all night, but the rest of the bands paled in comparison and it wasn't long before I was back at the Flying Saucer. I was a Dempseys fan, but mainly I was a Joe Fick fan.
I followed the band from afar and sometimes saw them on Nashville's Broadway as they made their occasional visit. Ultimately the Dempseys broke up and Joe made his way to Nashville permanently in 2009.
It was interesting talking with him at lunch last week without a crowd or a stage or noise.
I think I operate on the assumption that musicians are supernovas whose ultimate genetically wired blowup is a matter of when not if. To the contrary he actually seems grounded and normal, refreshing in his understanding of the daily fragility of his world. Will all the guys in the band show up? Will the bar keep your band? Will the band keep you? Will there be a crowd? Will the tip jar get filled?
The life he leads seems brutal, physically and emotionally.
11 gigs a week, 4 hours each, which means some of those days start at 630PM and end about 3AM the next day. And we're not talking about some desk job, we're talking about non stop high energy performance on every song or you lose the crowd and their tips.
It is bottom line musical capitalism Nashville style: you entertain me, I tip you, otherwise I walk down Broadway till I find somebody better than you. There is a Darwinian feel to it that must hit the newly arrived musicians hard when they come to town chasing their dream.
Days off? Few and far between, and you take them at the risk of being musically Wally Pipp'ed.
Competition for your job? You get comfortable with your skills and place in the pecking order at your own peril. The new young stud might be showing up any day now.
And yet when I ask if he can do this the rest of his life the answer is yes. I don't know how many times in our conversation I heard the phrase 'I just want to play.'
What a powerful creative force that must be inside a musician like him, the constant desire to just keep doing what he does, to just play, on a stage, with a band, and a crowd, night after night.
I just want to play.
We talked about the steady arrival of new talent to town hell bent on "making it." Defined as what, he asked? Is it millions of dollars? Is it a number one single? Is it your face on the billboards?
Or do you just want to play and then see what life brings you?
I just want to play.
Joe has that crazy ass passion. It hits you in the face when you see him on stage and it hits you in the heart when you're lucky enough to just sit and talk to him like I was.
I think Joe Fick is making it and doing it on his own terms and by his own definition. He doesn't kid himself about the business end of music. He's got a girl, a house, a band, and a life.
He just wants to play.
KS
By the way, a great place to catch Joe on Broadway is 5 nights a week at Roberts Western World with the Don Kelley Band, in my opinion the best show on the street.
