First of all, let it be said that I am wholly biased. Sam is one of my best friends and I want him to succeed very much.
Which is why, despite the indignity it caused me, I agreed to serve as guitar tech for his show at the Tabernacle (or “Thackernacle”), supporting Corey Smith. I am extremely important, you see, and I have a reputation among myself to uphold.
Still, I so like think of myself as someone upon whom my friends can call, so I agreed to help free of charge. I ended up getting a plate of Fox Brother’s barbecue backstage, no doubt paid for by the Corey Smith camp, and those of you who have had the pleasure of enjoying some Fox Brother’s barbecue will agree that this is sufficient payment for nearly any task.
I also got to spend a little time with one of my musical heroes and mentors, Corey’s drummer Marcus Petruska, who was in the scene and showing me how things were done when I was but a pup. Now that I am thoroughly washed up in every arena but my own delusions, he is continuing to show me how it’s done. It was great to hang out with him.
Sam and I have played many gigs together. I have played drums, bass, keyboards, and lead guitar in his band at differing times. I have shot and edited video of him. We’ve been roommates. We’ve gotten seriously drunk together and woken up with unspeakable injuries with no idea of their origin. In short, he’s my boy.
Which is why I am authoritative on how good he is. I have seen him play. A lot.
And so it was that I found myself on the side stage of the Tabernacle, looking out into towering rows of the young faces of several hundred Corey Smith fans, sipping whiskey from a Dixie cup like a freshman and waiting for my boy to put on a show.
When you’ve seen someone play as much as I’ve seen Sammy play, you sort of get into a rhythm of things. You stop seeing it in the same way. It can be like gaining strength. You may be working out three times a week, and it may not seem like a big deal, but you might catch a look at yourself in just the right way, or put on a shirt that was previously too tight, and all of a sudden all the hard work pays off.
It was one of those will-the-hard-work-pay-off moments when Sam emerged onto the stage. I don’t want to say that I am ever without faith in my boy, but I know he’s always wanted to play the Tabernacle and I was nervous for him. His sister was in attendance, as well as his mom and loved ones. I knew this was a “Can not suck today” moment for him and I felt it.
He and his band walked onto the stage like men hired to do a job. They assumed their places and let rip, and let me tell you my friends, as a jaded and bitter musical failure my heart swelled. They did it. They really did it.
It is clear that they have been working hard and polishing arrangements. Michael Winston, the lead player, has always been good but I think he’s somehow gotten more good. As a fellow lead guitarist, this makes me seethe with jealousy. I want him dead, mostly so I can absorb his guitar gear collection and fret over it like Gollum over the One Ring.
Mike Riddick on bass and Jonathon McAdow on drums both smoked it. I can’t imagine the show being better without showgirls. Not in the show itself, mind you, just around me.
So yes, I am biased and I would support my boy no matter what happened, but believe me when I say that even though I know him and I know what he is capable of, he still surprised me and still kicked my ass. Check out his web site, buy his record on iTunes, and get your ass out to see a show.
I will certainly be there too.
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