Morning, all. Hope you're all managing to stay comparatively cool.
I'm starting my Sunday in the same way I've started the overwhelming majority of the last 714 of them- doing laundry. It's a weekend ritual, of sorts. Get home on Saturday nights after a gig, take a bit of a nap, then throw in laundry and muddle through the day. This one's different, though. Unlike previous Sundays, I'm not prepping for next week's show.
For 13 of the last 14 years (that plague year interrupted the streak) on most Saturday nights, you could find me parked in the corner of the Tavern, tucked out of the way (mostly) and hosting SNK. Well, except for some time spent on the DL, of course. There was the tonsillectomy, the ankle tendon repair, the rotator cuff surgery, and- of course- the great cancer caper of 2019. Besides that, though, there I was.
Back when we first started the gig, the setup was five CD "books" of 250-300 karaoke discs. The laptop was for fill in music as I very slowly converted those CDs into something a little more friendly to my back- and that the hosting program could use. Those five "books" weighed about eight pounds each, and they were schlepped to each gig. So were 10 songbooks of 200 pages plus each (I didn't have a double-sided printer when I started- so 200 pages of songs was actually 400 pages, plus the plastic protective sheets). And pencils, request slips, an amp, speakers, stands, microphones, flashy lights, and a monitor. In short, a whole bunch of stuff. And, while the haul is smaller these days, thanks to that whole digital thing- and the fact that the songbooks are online, I still lug over- I dunno, 75 lbs or so of gear around to set up to entertain you.
As to whether it's actually entertaining? Well, that's always been for you folks to decide for yourself. Seeing as I occupied that corner for the length of time I did, I'm going to go out on what I think is a pretty sturdy limb and say the answer was yes. But- as with most of life- nothing is permanent. I've always tried view karaoke as dispassionately as I could, realizing that the continuance or cancellation of gigs was something that could turn on (or because of) a dime. Something that would be a business decision based on the value of the provided services. If they were making money, it made sense to keep me around. If not? Well- them's the breaks.
Did I ever think I'd stick around this long? Nope. And there have been some times over that 13 year stretch (particularly at the end of nights that featured wedding parties- who would invariably include a few members who suffered from delusions of self-importance and entitlement) where I've thought of saying “fuck it” and hanging up the microphone. I jokingly asked almost every Saturday morning for 10 years if I was fired (kind of like the Dread Pirate Roberts saying “Good night Wesley, I'll most likely kill you in the morning” in The Princess Bride) and reminding them that- if I set up- they had to pay me.
When the world got interrupted in 2020, I wondered (as so many others did) if my business would survive. I was, alternately, happy and sad about the break. Happy to have the time off, but terribly sad to think Southpaw Entertainment and its reputation was done. That the sense of fun, familiarity, and community we'd built here over a decade plus would crumble. Somehow, that didn't happen. When we resumed shows, we were lucky to regain our bearings and you- our people- relatively quickly. And I have done what I could to answer live up to the trust you've put in me to turn your Saturday nights into something more than a boring night out.
Since the return, though, I've flown solo in this endeavour. Mark, my wonderful "B Team" wasn't comfortable returning to a bar full of people when so many people were still getting sick. And let me tell you, kids, I 1000000000000% supported and respected his decision then, and I support it and respect it now. He did what was best for himself and his family. I will never hold that against him, and I will continue to consider him a dear friend.
That left me with a conundrum, though. The end of 2019 and all of 2020 were, physically, grueling on me. No just because of COVID, but also because of cancer diagnosis. I spent a solid week hospitalized, post-surgery, and another month at home- recovering. Six months later- as the shutdown was really settling in, I underwent 40 straight weekdays of radiation therapy. I never missed a day, and- to the shock of my oncology nurse better half and the doctor and nurses treating me, I only missed one day of work- not because I was tired (but, Jesus, was I? You'd better fucking believe it), but because I had a migraine. And, even after that treatment ended, the fatigue remained. Into 2022, in fact. Because what's the best way to fight fatigue and regain stamina? Rest, of course, but exercise, too- which I couldn't manage because I was too tired. It was a nasty, vicious circle. That's why, when we started back up, I had to set some limits- like keeping my one weekend a month off (but no SNK on those weekends since Mark was no longer available).
Around Halloween last year, I realized I was still tired. I mean, my stamina mostly returned- but I'm closer to 60 than I am to 50. I began mull over putting Southpaw Entertainment's karaoke out to pasture. In my mind, the perfect time to do that would've been in June, the weekend before the Blueberry Fest started the city's yearly festival circuit that always wreaked havoc with karaoke nights. Obviously, that didn't happen, due to life and stuff.
All of that preamble brings me to this: I was informed yesterday that last night would be the last time my services would be required at the Iron Horse. That sentence, doubtless, makes more than a few people happy, and hopefully a greater number bummed at least.
♬♬♬♬♬♬♬♬
Before I wrap up this morning's musings, allow me to indulge just a bit more with some "thank yous".
- To former manager Mike Holley for guessing that just maybe karaoke on Saturday nights might be a better revenue source than trivia on Saturday nights and sticking with it the three months I told him it would take for it to really catch on.
- To all of the staff I've worked with over the years for putting up with "that grumpy fucker that does the karaoke": Kellie, who's seen me most Saturday mornings during the run- and provided adult beverages and friendship along the way, and Jon, the current manager. We may have butted heads on more than occasion, but I like to think we always maintained a friendly and mutual (if grudging, depending on circumstances) respect for one another. For everyone who's spent a Saturday night slinging while I spun, I thank you, too. Suzanne, Lindsay, Jason, Leeza, Jeanne, Bobbi, Estevan, Sammie, Heather, Elish, Taryn, Tori, Clint, Melo, Kathy, Christina, Steve (Lindsay), Zack, Mike, Jerome, and all the ones who didn't last six months so I never learned your name (and the ones who did, but we never really cared for one another so I forgot it). To Kristi and Tomas for putting up with me going behind the bar to grab my own sodas/water and not blaming me (much, anyway) for the quality of singers.
And thank you, Mark, for easing the load on me for the time you did.
Most importantly, of course, I'd like to thank you- our singers/supporters. Were it not for you, well- the whole thing would've been pointless anyway.
First off, I'd like to thank to Jamie and Eddie. You guys in this area may have only seen them once or twice (or maybe even not at all), but they have been friends and supporters since I started Southpaw Entertainment back in Savannah, some 25-odd years ago- and have the distinction (or lack of sense?) to have come to at least one show in every venue where I've ever worked, from Savannah to Atlanta and Norcross- and including Turner Field's 755 Club, RuSan's in Milton and Little Five, Dania's, and the Tavern.
Thank you Doug and Paulette, who have been with us here in Norcross from the start. Thank you Lauren, Sally, Leslie, Lee, and Nathalie- who played outsized roles in really helping to get things rolling by singing- and singing our praises- and later brought Alex and Travis to the fold. To Don, Lori, Rolka, Mikey, Worm, Laura, and Dan, and Chris and Lindsay, who were all steadfast supporters in the early years (that's not a knock- they all moved away or grew up, and I was always happy when they managed to squeeze in a visit in the time since). Thank you Laura and David, Amber, Wendy, Alexandra, Parks, Sun, Gil, the crew from the Lionheart Theater that would join us randomly, and Sam Jr. (who will never get to live down the fact that he's the only reason I've seen even a clip from American Idol).
To all of you- and to everyone whose names I've forgotten- or just forgotten to list- whether you've sang with us or just hung out and people-watched us, you were the reason we enjoyed the success we did, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
♬♬♬♬♬♬♬♬
As for the inevitable questions about my plans, the only answer I have is "I don't know." Or, rather "I haven't decided." It's possible I might seek another gig in the area- but it's also possible I don't. After all, that whole "I'm tired" thing isn't just a load of bullshit I'm shovelling in the interest of spinning a happy tale (that's just not my style).
Should I pursue another gig, it will be one in the Norcross area (or close to it, i.e., convenient) and on a weekend ('cause I'm way too old to be working until 2 or 3 am on a week night, then trying to drag my ass to work the next day). And, should that come to pass, you will learn of it here, or through our Facebook page. If not, well, as Kenny Loggins famously sang, "this is it." I'll keep you updated on that, too.
Until we meet again, take care of yourselves and each other. And feel free to drop us a line now and then.
Rob
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