A week ago while eating In-N-Out, Max Turner Oestreicher found an extremely large french fry.
Large might be an understatement, an injustice to the enormity of this double-wide french fry. Or maybe I’m exaggerating because I want to attribute mythic status to this fry for getting me gigs. See, Max is a local drummer and bandleader hustling constantly with his jazz/surf/western band Sandpiper Ensemble. Prior to the appearance of this french fry we had never actually met, but I had been following him on Instagram, where he posted the fry in question to his Story and I dutifully sent a 😮 react. Sometimes my chronically online tendencies prove unwittingly savvy career moves, because just minutes later Max was in my inbox asking if I would sub on a Sandpiper gig in November. Well, obviously.
On Thursday I tracked guitars for Hubbard’s new Territory Games record, encompassing ten or so tracks, including multiple alternate versions of some of the tunes. (Watch this space for news on that record and more with the king.)
At sushi after the recording I asked Nathan if he knew Max and Sandpiper, to which he responded, “You know I’m on that record, right?”
I did not! So I went to check out the liner notes and whose names do I see in the credits but Ryan Ebaugh (surely a familiar face to the dozens of Binance spam accounts who make up this blog’s only regular readership) and Zane Alexander S.B. (with whom I played back in May) alongside a diverse cast of guest performers including everyone from Hubbard to Batya MacAdam-Somer (who I met earlier this year when we played in an impromptu string group at Necking’s Smoke Show and just saw play in Sädesärla, her excellent duo with Christopher Adler) to Dom Cooper (of San Diego New Verbal Workshop fame and Abominomicon II infamy).
I returned home full of sushi to a text from none other than Max asking if I could play a last-minute gig Tuesday. Well, obviously.
Sunday I laid down scratch tracks for the new Executioner’s Mask album, tentatively titled Nine Patriotic Songs of Worship and Devotion, though we have some dozen or so possible tunes for the record. More on that album down the line, too, but in the meantime keep in mind I already had two dozen songs swimming around in my head by the time Max and Roger sent me charts. Oh yeah: Roger asked if I could blow through some standards with him for a farmers’ benefit at City College on Wednesday. (Halfway through Sandpiper’s gig Roger sent me a text asking if I wanted to play a dance show in December; I said yes but that there was no way I’d be able to retain any details about it then.)
Sandpiper prepped three — or maybe two and a half — sets spanning songs by everyone from spaghetti soundtrack stalwarts Stelvio Cipriani, Morricone, Daniele Luppi and Piero Piccioni to Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson to originals by Max, Ryan and Zane. The clients’ only request was that we play Lalo Schifrin’s theme from Mission: Impossible a couple times.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. This gig was a Mission: Impossible-themed awards gala honoring the staff of Sharp HealthCare.
We ended up playing the theme (with extended solos) over an introductory skit involving two of the hospital’s marketing staff performing some kind of jewel heist dance routine onstage before the awards ceremony. Half the audience wore formal attire from suits all the way to tuxedos and the other half dressed whatever on theme might mean for a spy-centric hospital fete, from Hamburglar-esque domino masks and beanies to oversized trench coats and dark glasses more befitting a subway flasher. Every speaker who took the stage told the audience they looked straight out of a James Bond movie (do normal people know the name Ethan Hunt?) and before his first speech the Chief Medical Officer gave a lengthy preamble detailing why the event should have had baccarat.
Our middle set ended up forming the incidental music for a quiz game hosted by deepfake Tom Cruise, after which we were free to stretch out, taking long solos on a world tour from Piccioni’s “Arizona Dreaming” to Dawid’s “London.”
After the show Kat picked me up to go by Trader Joe’s and pick up groceries. They have fall stuff now! Spent the night watching Netflix true crime schlock since the apartment complex hot tub closed at ten. Despicable.
After breakfast the next morning we ended up back at Liberty Station to wander the bike path and take in the charred remains of the old rec center.
On the way out of Liberty Station the clouds began to gently sprinkle, only to abruptly crescendo moments later into a genuine downpour. When we found ourselves trapped in gridlock on the 5 we chalked it up to the rain, only to find out after the fact a Cessna’s front landing gear had failed to deploy while landing at SAN, effecting an immediate ground stop for the entire airport.
I made it to the gig well after the posted call time but I wasn’t worried, partly because I didn’t want to leave Kat’s car and partly because playing with Roger feels innately stress-free. He’s asked me to play farm benefits through City before and we’ve generally done our usual mix of jammy improv mixed with whatever original tunes we’ve played a hundred different ways since high school.
For our first set he reunited us with Matt, the drummer with whom we played back in April, and we ran through the usual noodly jam band routine. Someone requested “Iron Man” and Roger wanted to play the theme from Cowboy Bebop. For the second set we played a bunch of standards with kids from the Mesa College jazz ensemble. The future looks bright for trumpet players!
Tony came through to the show which was a very welcome surprise since I haven’t seen him in… months? Years? As always, we jabbered about our various comings and goings and resolved to meet up soon to discuss upcoming projects — his recent purchase and renovation of Boulevard’s long-abandoned Masonic Temple, my benighted feature film — and maybe this time we’ll actually make something happen. Stranger things…
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