jeffconlin - Jeff Conlin

I played a benefit show at the Ballard/Salmon Bay Fraternal Order of Eagles... that was pretty amazing. Ballard is a lot like Fell's Point or Canton in Baltimore. Strong maritime tradition, strong ethnic (in this case, Norwegian) and working class roots, and all of it is being obliterated at lightning pace by increasing land values and yuppie development. The Eagles are a big anchor for "old Ballard", and host a lot of blues shows. Unfortunately, the folks largely responsible for that booking work are both terminally ill, and as their humble old meeting hall sits in the shadows of high-rise condos all around, you can't help but wonder if the idea of an old-fashioned fraternal order (even a large international one founded right there in Seattle) is also somewhat terminal. But that thought didn't cross the minds of any of the hundreds of people who came out to raise money and hear music all afternoon and late into the night from every good blues band in the state. It was strange being an atmosphere I was so familiar with (reminded me of Surf Club, or any big blues benefit scenario), yet I knew no one. Not that that mattered. I think I even became an FOE member. I can't really remember right now. I should be, though. Definitely.

The next weekend, I headed out to Kirkland (of "Kirkland Signature" fame) to see guitar player Nick Vigarino and his band (best power-funk rhythm section I've heard on the west coast - almost as good as Clarence Turner on bass and Sean Graves on drums - but not quite), and do a little promotion of my own project. As word gets around that The Satellite 4 is shooting to be Seattle's own sort of "MG's" (backing up freelance singers who are looking for a band) we're getting a lot of interested parties coming to us. During one of Nick's set breaks, I found myself outside in a half circle surrounding the bar, listening to two incredible singers do an impromptu "soul-off", singing their hearts out on the street to the applause of everyone just walking by. In Seattle!

Last week, I drove out to the middle of nowhere to play a prive show with guitar man John Stephan (himself a real legend in WA and Alaska). I assumed it was actually some kind of ambush when I came to the barbed wire gate the directions led to. An intimidating Samoan man pulled back the gate and waved me in... then I drove the Subaru another two miles down a muddy, rutted road deep in the woods. The road opened up to a clearing up on a hill, overlooking the White River, against a backdrop of the massive Mt. Rainier. Probably one of the most picturesque spots in the entire area. Turns out, its a massive private reserve owned by a housing developer. After years of "raping and pillaging" (in his own words), he picked up this ridiculously beautiful 80 acre tract and decided it would never be touched. He's also a family man, and a great musician. Now he hosts big concerts and camp-outs on that land, and intends to build a professional recording studio and a luxury retreat cabin there for travelling bands passing through town. To make it even better, the Samoan guy is also a barbecue master. After the show, we had a true dirt-pit, open-flame pig feast. In Seattle!

It has been joked that I'm sort of a Quantum Leap character who jumps into women's lives just long enough to help out in some significant way, then they make some half-hearted proclamation, I acquiesce, and then move on to my next assignment. I am beginning to think my new assignment is to help make Seattle more soulful. Luckily I'm finding so many people appointed with the same task so early on!