MH: No Pizza, No Space, A Lot of Beer, A Lot of Trace...The Christopher’s Pizza Blog!

So...here we are, Michael B. Hicks and FUNKtional Punctuation (Mike B. and the Funk Puncs if you will) standing in a wall-to-wall, people-covered Christopher's Pizza with literally thousands of people outside the door wanting to get in...well, let me back up and start from the beginning of the day...

i'm up around 8 a.m. watching the plumber fix my toilet (thanks a ton) and after he leaves, i hit the ironing board with reckless abandon. i'm bumping EWF and the new PJ Morton "Live From LA" CD while setting the ink on the new shirts that Sheena made for Mike B. and the Funk Puncs. Things are great. I'm emailing my manager to ensure that things are cool, making a few light-hearted jokes here and there when the phone call comes to my brother. i hear him give the "oh, really? hmmm...wow...that's a trip...no, i don't think Mike knows about that...wow...it starts at 6? where? oh...ok...cool...sure, i'll let him know...thanks." Sheena tells us that the roads to Christopher's Pizza are blocked as they are setting up a massive stage right outside of Christopher's Pizza--literally. i jump online to find out that there is some kind of Americana festival and awards something happening and some other things as well and then i see it--the dagger of all daggers...i find out that Emily West, Darius Rucker (yes, Hootie minus the Blowfish), and doggone TRACE ADKINS (!!!) are performing right outside of lil' ol' Christopher's Pizza. are you serious?! absolutely. now, i must say: i knew Trace was performing that night because the choir that i'm a part of (Out For Souls) was actually singing background for Trace--but i didn't know the joint was going down on the other side of the glass door...

so, my brother and i finish the shirts, run to Applebee's to grab a salad and a mango banana smoothie for me and a banana berry smoothie for him. it was great (you ought to try one). the whole time i'm thinking: it won't be as bad as i'm making it out to be in my mind. um...incorrect.

we get to Nashville around 5 just to realize that it's not a joke at all, as we almost tear up 3 cars parallel parking in the smallest space imaginable behind BMI. we grab the new shirts, the merch, the amp, and cameras to walk to where all the madness is. at this point, there are already thousands of people in the street and sure enough, there is a massive stage outside. inside of Christopher's Pizza there are two lines--one from the back of the building to the front for people trying to get into the women's bathroom as the men's was out of order; and another line from the front of the building to the back of the building for people trying to get their fifth and sixth beers. i have never seen so much beer before in my entire life. there were people walking around in overalls, no shoes, no shirt, with 4 beers in their hand--all open. it was truly a picture of stereotypical nashville. the ironic thing is that the shirt i was wearing before the show said, "nashville, home of country music", and the new shirt Sheena made me for the show actually said "country music" and every member of the band had a different genre of music (big ups to bluegrass Hinkie). a few of the Funk Puncs couldn't make it, so we only had 10 of us, but Christopher's Pizza is already slammed, so we're struggling to make this work. the bgvs are at a table, sitting like customers with microphones and the horns are at another table sitting like customers with horns. i would have ordered them all some pizza, but guess what...?! yep, they were out of food!!! so, as more and more people fill the streets of nashville's music circle, more and more people need to pee, and more and more people want beer, but it's time to start my set. Jason, the venue manager starts to charge people $5 to come in and use the bathroom--and they were paying it!!! needless to say, just as i had no clue, neither did the people who were coming to hear us, so a good number of people drove down there, struggled to find a parking spot, realized that my set was gonna start at 8 and didn't have a spot by 8:45, and just went home. dang. much love to those who pressed their way (lol). time for the hit.

now, it must be stated that i am very meticulous and i give a lot of thought to everything that i do. that being said, i had a 17-song set list full of new material, intimate moments, jokes, and everything else planned out and rehearsed for 5 hours the previous Sunday. it was set up so sweet with feel-good up-tempo stuff at the beginning, cover tunes, new tunes, a spiritual/ministry section and even a part of the show dealing with politics. well, throw the set list out of the window. new game plan--can't do too much sweet, intimate stuff because Hootie is blasting. however, as long as the door is closed, all is well. so much for that. the Funk Puncs are doing their usually smashing, but as the door opens and we hear everything else bumping to maximum capacity outside, we start missing breaks and cues and everything. frustrating. very. we press on and do some new stuff anyway and we start to catch our groove and we have some great audience participation. every 2 minutes someone would come in with a beer and dance their way across the stage en route to the bathroom. then, as i'm running out of songs, i realize that i have to do the nice, slow, worshippy tunes that i was trying to now avoid. whatever, let's go for it. i have the song called "Simply For Me" that i'm singing and it's going ok, but someone opens the door and lets Trace in. so, in the middle of my song, i'm singing "but, i need you, Lord...", and i hear Trace and my friends Cedric, Sophie, Liz, Padrion and OFS singing, "to baptize me in that muddy water!" Put those two phrases together, one from inside and one from outside, and you'll see how silly that is. it was a struggle, but funny--kind of. i could feel darnell levine thinking: "it hurts to watch, but it's so nice to be on the other side of a jacked up artist situation for once!" but then it hit me...

this is what it's all about! THIS is nashville! the thousands of people outside watching the mega star and having a blast as the young, hungry, frustrated crew of musicians fight to keep folks' attention in the store front hallway restaurant across the street--growing tired of playing music that's not their own and doing music that they don't even like--determined to share with somebody, even if only a few people, the message or statement that they believe in. making an amount of money that would have been a good night for a solo local artist, but not enough to get everybody straight on any substantial gas money when you have an entire fleet of musicians--this is the stuff dreams are made of while at the same time being a nightmare experience. it hit me: the 50-something people who came to hear me were still there after 2 hours of mayhem and chaos, they deserve their $5 worth plus more to cover the gas money. so, we cranked up and did what we know how to do best as musicians...we played our hearts out. singers sang like there was no tomorrow and the Funk Puncs gave me about an hour and fifteen minutes worth of the some of the most amazing shedding i've ever been a part of. it reminded me of why we do it--because we love it and we've been blessed with an extremely precious and valuable gift of music. in that moment, there was nothing that gas prices, hunger, politics, or frustration could do to pull us out of the music. we played until we were nearly in tears. it was a moment i'll never forget. to end it all, we hit darnell's "Use What We Got" and he blazed the stage with us.

given the opportunity, i'd do it all over again if i could be assured that i could hear the singers who sang (Aija, Kyle, Sheena, Darnell, Mo, Joslyn, Kellye, etc.) and the musicians who played (The Funk Puncs and Roger Ryan) give all of what they had just because we love what we do. that's it--we love what we do...

MH