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38 Hours of Slimness
Start the clock!
At 6 PM on Tuesday, February 24th, the Slim Man Band took the stage at Vicky's in Indian Wells, California.
Californee!
We play every Tuesday for two hours straight, no break. Then the Slim Fellas grab a bite and I go solo, playing some piano, singing some Sinatra.
On this particular Tuesday when the band took a breather, a guy came up to me and asked if he could sit in on trumpet. I had no idea who he was.
He looked more librarian than musician. More Dewey Decimal than Dizzy Gillespie.
I told him he could play on the last song. Low Rider by WAR.
Why the last song?
Because if I invite him up to play on the first song and he ain't no good, it might be awkward to...uninvite him.
Whoever he was, he was enthusiastic. He strolled away, trumpet in hand.
Then I walked over to the pee-anna and played and sang End of the Rainbow, a request from the Oklahoma Dozen.
Who?
Scott and Ellen (from--you guessed it, Oklahoma!) have been longtime Slim People. They brought a party of 12, and when I say party of 12, I mean those people were partying!
While I'm singing Rainbow, I hear music emanating from a table to my left. I glance over and it's Trumpet Man, listening to Low Rider on his phone and noodling on his horn.
I admired the preparation. The man was doing his homework! But during my heartfelt rendition of End of the Rainbow?
I finished the song and walked over to say hello to the Oklahomans. One of them asked if we knew Pretty Woman by Roy Orbison. He wanted to sing that song with the band. His name was Hal.
OK Hal.
I told OK Hal we didn't know Pretty Woman. Sorry! Hal seemed...OK with that.
The Slim Man Band came back on stage for the second set, and we were in the groove. When we got to the last tune?
I told the audience about Trumpet Man. How he asked to sit in. And then I brought him up.
He stepped on stage, trumpet clutched to his chest. As I was about to introduce him, I realized I didn't even know his name!
I asked. He said, "Just Bob."
Just Bob?
"Yes, Just Bob."
I turned to the crowd and said, "Folks, meet Just Bob!"
Just Bob and the Slim Men dug into Low Rider. Just Bob was just wonderful! So good that at the end of the song, OK Hal and the Oklahoma Dozen started cheering and chanting...
"JUST BOB! JUST BOB! JUST BOB! JUST BOB!"
So we did Route 66 as an encore and Just Bob was just blazing. What a flourishing finale!
After the show I went back to Slim's Shady Trailer Park. Did I slug back some Kickapoo Joy Juice with our Head of Merch, Selma Krapoff?
No.
Did I relax over a Kahlua and coffee with our new Head of Java, Kareem N. Shoogah?
No.
I started scouring the internet for Rat Pack photos for the show the next night at Larkspur Grill. Chase (Huna, Sax Man) and I play there every Wednesday.
There's a huge video screen behind us. When we first started, they had a slideshow with just a couple photos in rotation.
A cactus.
A palm tree.
A roadrunner that looked like it was auditioning for a National Geographic photoshoot.
So Chase and I asked if we could create our own slideshow and they gave us the green light. We started gathering vintage pics of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Nat King Cole.
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