As I was driving from the Oakland Airport to Santa Rosa in my rental car, a little Toyota something-rather, I wondered, how would it feel to drive PAST the exit to Sebastopol, the exit I always took to go home, and instead drive to my friend Julee’s house where I’m staying this trip? How would it feel to spend the day rehearsing with my favorite, beloved piano man, John Simon, whom I’ve missed so much? And then go to Christy’s, which used to be Upper Fourth, the place I performed every month for over a year? How would it be to see my old friends Susan and Sandy? And have breakfast with my now ex-husband?

My main reason for taking this trip was Linda Kosut’s invitation to perform at the Rrazz Room, San Francisco’s last cabaret room of any consequence. I had to say yes. When would I ever get a chance to perform there? Never. And it would be a chance to perform with my favorite musicians, John Simon, Tom Shader, Tony Malfatti, and Alan Hall, a drummer I don’t know but is supposed to be fabulous.

And I AM excited about the show. It’s going to be a blast, I know it. It’ s tomorrow night, Monday, June 14, a date that got here a hell of a lot faster than it should have.

It’s been a whirlwind trip. Yesterday, I taught a 5-hour workshop in San Francisco on how musicians can use the tools and tactics of Internet marketing and social media strategy to attract new fans, put butts in seats and sell more music. It was called, “Excuse Me! Your Audience is Waiting!” 18 people came, and it was a big success. People got a lot out of it, and so did I. I love teaching. I’ve missed it.

But afterwards, I felt so tired. My throat was sore from talking endlessly, and I felt I could be getting a little sick. And I was. Sick at heart.

There is something so lonely about coming back to a place that used to be home but isn’t anymore. To see friends who have become distant since I left. To sit here, in my friend Julee’s house, a house where we used to have laughter-filled dinner parties with Dee and Harry and Rhoann and Stefan, Deborah and Tim, people who have all disappeared from my life since I left.

This morning, I took a walk in the cemetery behind Julee’s house, and I found the grave of my great, great grandfather and mother. Colonel James Hardin and his wife, Nannie. I knew that they had lived here in Santa Rosa, that my grandmother was born here, but I wasn’t sure if they were buried here. I found their tomb by accident. Even my ancestral roots are here, but it’s still not home.

There are moments in my life when everything feels heavy and overwhelming, or so stormy and fraught that I can’t find my way. In those moments, I find myself praying, internally and sometimes out loud, “I want to go home. I want to go home,” as if I’m pleading with God to take me up and out of here and return me to the place I belong.

And while I know this home I crave is not a “place,” I am still filled with the sense that I’m a stranger in a strange land, doing my best to make my way, until the forces that left me here remember to come and take me home.

I had so much fun making this video (once I wrestled iMovie to the ground and made it scream “Uncle!”) about my recent excursion to New York City to be at the MAC Awards (Manhattan Association of Cabaret and Clubs). My friends Shaynee Rainbolt and Terese Genecco were both nominated for awards, so I HAD to be there. Mario Cantone and Leslie Uggams and The Bobs also make an appearance in this video.

So… watch it! I made it just for you!

New gigs on the horizon, including a monthly gig at Savona’s Trattoria in Kingston, AND… I’ll be at the Rrazz Room in San Francisco on Monday, June 14! Yep, I’m flying on back to California to share the stage with Linda Kosut in “When the Natives Get Restless” – our name for this jazz cabaret about …. well, you’ll have to come and find out!

Gig days are weird. I try to focus on work and what needs doing, but there is always a part of my internal energy that is shooting out ahead of the present moment to anticipate what’s coming. Am I prepared? What about the verse on that one tune? Do I really want to do “I Concentrate on You” as a duet with the bass player? What am I going to wear? How much time do I need to get ready, haul equipment, warm up and not feel rushed?

I’m singing with jazz guitarist Dennis Winge, and bass player, Jim Curtin. I’ve only performed with Dennis once before and it went really well. I’ve never performed with Jim, but he’s a player; he knows what to do. Yet I can’t help but feel antsy, uncertain.

Sometimes, like today, nervous anticipation disguises itself as fatigue. I get tired, sleepy, and I feel exposed and vulnerable. I tuck myself inside to hide a bit before I need to come out in performance.

I was talking to my friend Terese Genecco who performs regularly at the Iridium in New York City. She never gets nervous. She gets amped up, but not anxious. But at her last performance at the Iridium, there was a talent scout coming to see her, and while she claims she wasn’t nervous, I was with her just before she left her apartment to go do that show, and she was nervous.

And it was one of the best nights she ever had. She told me her voice would do anything she wanted it to. She was wild, alive and free to go full out and beyond. Her band was hot and playing their best in order to impress her guest drummer, Michael Berkowitz. It was magic on steroids.

I guess that’s it. As singers we wonder, Will my voice let me do whatever I want tonight? What limitations or compromises will I be presented with? The performance space? The ability to hear myself? The moodiness of my instrument? It’s these unknowns that spark the inner jitters.

I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight. I never do. My intention is to show up, be fully present inside each song, listen to my boys and ride the music. Meanwhile, I need to get back to work.

Upper Fourth is closed.

For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, Upper Fourth is, or rather, was a beautiful, classy bar in Santa Rosa that offered adults the perfect place to meet, have a drink, talk quietly, laugh loudly and listen to some live jazz every now and then. It was sorely needed, but obviously not well enough appreciated, in a town filled with either seedy bars or loud dance clubs frequented by twenty-somethings.

But my sadness around its closing is personal. Upper Fourth and its owner Molly Gallaher changed my life by offering me the opportunity to make music there every second Friday of the month from 5:00 pm to 8:00 pm. To have a steady gig in a sweet environment where people actually listened was a huge gift to me and my musical life. It made me a better singer, a better musician and a better performer. And when I left California to move to New York, one of the biggest losses for me was letting go of that monthly gig.

Just the other day I was bragging about Upper Fourth to my friend Paul who was bemoaning the fact that Kingston doesn’t have a place where one can go, have a drink in an inviting, quiet environment and connect with other people in the community. I told him that I knew of a place like that in Santa Rosa, CA: Upper Fourth.

From the comments on the BiteClub blog, people are saying ugly things about Molly and Upper Fourth. I have no idea if any of them are true and I don’t care. My experience of Upper Fourth and Molly was only positive. I watched her work hard to make Upper Fourth a great bar, not just another bar. She rarely took a day off. And all of her employees were kind, helpful and considerate.

And she supported live music. She understood how booking a live jazz group in the early evening hours would help business, bring in more people and create something special for her patrons. Late on Fridays and Saturdays she booked a DJ and brought in the younger crowd who would stay there until closing. She was smart to do so.

Thank you, Molly. Thank you for Upper Fourth. I’ll never forget my time there, and I’ll always be eternally grateful to you for giving me my first steady gig and supporting live music.

— John Mayer, from the song, Georgia

This afternoon, I’ll be singing at Don’t Tell Mama in New York City.
It’s my sliver of a New York City debut.

My friend Jason Britton from California is premiering his “Listen to Your Heart” show here in NYC, and he asked me to be his guest artist, so to speak. I’m singing a duet with him, “Love Is When,” and then, I’ll get to sing a tune on my own. My New York, one-song debut. “But Beautiful,” by James Van Heusen & Johnny Burke.

Should I be more excited? I will be once I get up on stage, but this morning I feel so dragged out, tired, even though I got tons of sleep, and sad. Yeah, just a smidge sad. Not sure why. I don’t think it has anything to do with today’s show, or the fact no one I know will be attending. It’s not that. It’s something I’ve been feeling for a while now.

When I moved here to New York (wow, it’s been almost 4 months now), I knew it would take time to make friends, develop relationships, find community. And I was ready for that. Because when you do something dramatic and crazy like moving across country to a strange city, you expect things to feel strange. You expect that it will take a while to get your bearings, to figure out where things are. You figure, as you leave a family of friends behind, that everybody will be a stranger.

But what I didn’t expect was that my old friends in California would start to become strangers, too.

And they have. When I talk to them, which is rare, it feels so different… distant. They are literally and figuratively and emotionally far, far away. Some of them I don’t talk to at all. Some of them (one, actually) sends me a two-sentence email once in a while.

And to be fair, I could be so much better about calling them. Much better. But it’s not the quantity of the contact that is missing. It’s that feeling of connection. That bond of intimacy and friendship. It’s shifted. It’s changed. It’s, well… dissolving.

So again, I feel like I’m stuck inside a John Mayer song.

Or maybe a Joni Mitchell song:

Old friends seem indifferent.
You must have brought that on.
Old bonds have broken down,
Love is gone.

Ah, but then, love is never gone. And that’s what I wrap myself in as I get ready to g to Don’t Tell Mama’s for a sound check, a long wait, and then the show. While it’s hard to be here when old friends are feeling far away and new ones don’t yet exist, love still is available, ready, waiting.

with Daniel at Upper Fourth on Oct. 10, 08.

I remember each of those moments vividly. The last note of “It’s Only Love.” The high phrase near the end of “I’ve Just Seen a Face.” The Ab in “Don’t Blame Me.”

AND there were moments last night when I never sang better. Actually, there were whole sets of songs that rocked. “But Beautiful,” “Being Alive” (as a samba, of course), and “Feeling Good.” There was a lot to be proud of.

But those sucky moments are the ones that kick my ass all night long and this morning. What WAS that? What happened there? How in the heck did that note just not work?

And when I have the answers to those questions, when I know what went wrong and WHY, I feel better. Because I know how to correct whatever sucked. But this morning, I don’t have a clue. And THAT bothers me. I mean, I don’t think I could even reproduce what happened if I tried. It just… happened.

This is when a mentor or vocal coach comes in handy. And since I don’t have one right now, I’m left to my own detective work.

I mean, sometimes, sucky singing just happens. I just hate it when it does. Especially when I’ve been working as hard as I have on my craft. But I have to remember that progress is a crooked path. It’s not a straight line to the stratosphere where ever day I get to sing better than the last and every gig is better than the last. It’s up and down, high and low, flop and soar. And these extremes can exist within one three-hour gig!

So, today, I’m taking heart in all that went beautifully last night as I dig deep into my investigation as to what sucked and why. And now, on to the next glorious gig this Saturday.

I had no idea how it would work. Or if it would work at all.

But singing with "Mad Max" the Trombonist and my amazing piano man John Simon was a total blast!

I mean, how often do you hear a piano/trombone/vocal ensemble? Uh…never?

But I knew I wanted my friend and jazz trombone man Max Perkoff to join John and me for one of our monthly gigs at Upper Fourth. See, for the last three months or so, we’ve been featuring a different guest musician. March was Tony Malfatti, a great sax player. April was Rich Armstrong, one of the most talented trumpet players I’ve ever met or heard. And May was Max! And it was great!

First of all, Max is a ham. He loves entertaining the crowd, talking with them, and being highly expressive in his movements and his playing. But he’s also an incredible musician who is creative and daring in his improvisations. He knows when to create space, to hang back, and when to dive in with his whole heart. I loved listening to him as much as I loved performing with him.

His creativity inspired my own. I found myself vamping and playing with phrases in new, surprising ways. Which, for me, is a big deal. I’m not one to take improvisational risks. That’s not my strength. But when I’m with musicians who are creating a certain sound and energy, it’s easy for me to meet that energy and play off of it.

It was incredible fun and I can’t wait to play with Max again.

And jazz trombone man Max Perkoff is joining me at my gig at Upper Fourth on Friday, May 9!

That’s right, it’s going to be a trombone/piano/vocal jazz ensemble.

I’m exciting, curious, dubious…but mostly excited.

I mean, I have no idea how this is going to jive. I’ve never created this musical configuration before. But I do know that Max plays a mean trombone. And he’s so much fun to work with! And play with, for that matter. So we’re going to make something happen.

If you’re in the Northern California vicinity on Friday, May 9, around 5:00 pm to about 8:00 pm, come on by Upper Fourth in downtown Santa Rosa. We’ll be making mad music!

And my dear friend from North Carolina Shane Kelly will be there! She’s coming out to California to visit a spell. Shane is a singer-turned-chef. She’s the original Whole Foods Snob, meaning, she insists upon whole foods in her cooking. But she’s also an amazing singer. So I’m hoping to convince her to sit with me at this gig.

We’ll seeeee!