The rooftop rehearsal was a success, sort of. I went to the roof this afternoon and for the first time, there wasn’t anyone there enjoying the typical 90 degree heat that has become the norm for Seattle this Summer. It was down to a chilly 70 degrees so it was empty. (These folks are not Alaskans.)
The goal is always to practice without anyone listening. If they’re listening, I feel like I can’t repeat the same lick 500 times. In that case, I have to analyze who I’m playing for. If they look like bluegrass musicians, I just play through the three tunes that I can play up to tempo, then leave before they ask me to gig with them. For street musicians, I can play a lot more without concern for tempo. If my audience members are music teachers, they will appreciate repetitive practice. But if they are jazz or symphonic musicians, there isn’t anything that can be done on the banjo that won’t offend them.
Nobody was on the roof but I forgot about the two buildings that are 20 feet away crawling with green and orange shirted construction workers. I’ve worked in construction. Their backgrounds vary widely from lifetime construction workers to disgruntled teachers looking for better pay. I didn’t know how they would react. Would they start dancing like chimney sweepers in Mary Poppins or would they get angry and throw chunks of cement at me?
As it turned out, they looked a bit startled. They stopped what they were doing, smiled, put on their giant ear protectors and went on about their business. I was completely fine with that. I practiced the difficult passages a few hundred times until I got sick of it. This may become a regular thing in coming months. I’ll just let the construction workers see me first so they can be ready with protective gear ahead of time.
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