Gyrating biker: best cure for stage fright EVER.

I had the unexpected pleasure of knocking another goal off of my non-bucket list a couple of weeks ago. My friend Mike is in a new band called Decade Four and he offered to help me with #9 - Sing live with a band - no karaoke - in front of actual people. I gladly accepted and told him that I would happily sing with his band under the conditions that I can rehearse with the band at least once. Although I've been singing my entire life, I get major stage fright and I've found that the best way to beat it is large amounts of Jack Daniels and as much preparation as possible, in that order. As their debut rolls around, I realize that we've never had this rehearsal and assume that I will not be singing at this one. I'm ok with this as I was not really ready and, at the time, was taking a brief hiatus from my good friend Jack, his cousin Smirnoff, and their great great grandmother, Chardonnay. That family tree does not lead one to make wise decisions, and by one I mean me. 


Anywho, as I'm talking with the band's drummer, he's all like, "So, you're singing with us tonight!" And I'm like, "NO." He just laughs. I do not. I confirm with Mike that I am indeed not singing. Although he encourages me to, he reluctantly agrees to the suggestion that I sing at their second gig. 


So I relax and enjoy the charm of Chuckie D's, a divey biker bar off of Oleander and the location of Decade Four's first gig. It is a truly special place with an even more special clientele. We found this gem hanging on one of the posts:

It's amazing many of us got served at all, seeing as how we fit several of the criteria sober.

Obviously I wore my most girly, ruffly dress to such an establishment. Could I have tried harder to blend? Sure, but what fun is that?

So we're having a good time, listening to the band, which is excellent, by the way, and all of the sudden I hear Mike say to me, through the microphone, "Sarah, you sure you don't want to sing this one?" I adamantly yell out, "YES. I'M SURE." As crowds tend to do, they turned on me. What's a girl to do when a motley mix of friends, colleagues, and bikers start chanting your name? You suck it up and sing a song. 

I may be smiling, but I'm also devising ways to murder Mike and make it look like an accident. 

Was "Give Me One Reason" by Tracy Chapman about three keys too low for my mid-range voice? Yes. Could anyone actually hear me? Probably not, as the vocals seriously needed to be raised and balanced with the instrumental (Dad the sound engineer knows what I'm talking about). Was I nervous as shit? Hell yes. Luckily for me, one of the bikers decided this was the time to do some solo gyrating on the dance floor, providing a third cure for stage fright.

Although I literally could have killed Mike, or at least caused a temporary injury, I am glad that I did it. My only regret is knowing that I can do better than that. So, although it's crossed off the list, I may just have to indulge my small, but growing biker fanbase with a repeat performance one day....