Hometown heroine
At my coronation, Rich Seymour of the Fret House in Covina was the first person to hit me up for an appearance so I'm granting his wishes.
It's open mic night, which is always the first Saturday of the month, and the line of performers scoots over to let me enter. That's right, make way for the Queen, I think.... but then again I am carrying swords and that could have something to do with it.
Rich greets me and Valerie and gives us our own private dressing room upstairs. He's pro all right. We finish up what we need to do and go back down to the performance room. Rich tells a man to get off the couch in the back so we can sit down. Gallantry is not dead, dying, but not dead.
We sit through one singer/songwriter/guitarist after another. Most warble about depression and love, some venture into suicide or a Christmas tune, a few brave ones offer something upbeat and ask the audience to sing along.
It's close to "half-time." Rich takes the stage and tells the crowd that it's a very special night because there is a real celebrity here. I look around- is it Jewel? Maybe Alanis? How about one of those Extreme boys? Oooohhhhh, he means me!
As Rich announces me I make my way down the center aisle, scepter raised like the Statue of Liberty. Once on stage, I tell the crowd who I am and why I'm here and introduce my Official Entourage, Valerie. We give the audience three perky numbers and lots of smiles and they eat it up.
Rich comes back up and we tell everyone about the parade- when and where it will be - and why they shouldn't miss it. On a whim, I tell Rich to kneel.
I pull out my sword, "I knight you Sir Rich, Protector of Music."
He accepts (hey, he has no choice- I have a sword, he has what? a microphone?) and asks how he can serve me. I solemnly explain that his best service would be to continue making the open mic night available to all. The onlooking crowds applauds.
Well done.
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