2/27/2023 0 Comments Old man marklyAs the lights went down, the most amazing, almost magical transformation occurred. To give credit where credit is due, that nice guy was John Rosen, the banjo player from Old Man Markley.Īfter a few rounds at the bar across the street, I made my over to the venue and marked out my spot for the show. But I knew at that moment, I was a complete and utter tool. He looked back and gave me a wave and a look as if to say, “It’s all good. As I turned back around, I see that the nice fellow who had given me so much of his time walking away. My original mission had been accomplished. I got my last signature and even a picture with my final target. So, you know how I told you I how I respect opening bands, right? I pretty much stop our conversation by effectively saying something close to, “Well, the guy from the headlining band is here now so I have to go. As this nice guy, who was giving me some of his time, is telling me that he would keep an eye out for me in the crowd to give me a wave, the last member of “the band” who I have been waiting on comes out of the big red bus. If I didn’t then, I was about to seal the deal. While this statement is 100% true, I can’t help but think that it didn’t come off as somewhat…douchie. I explained that while other people may not appreciate the show opener, I always look forward to the prospect of finding new music. But then…Īs this genuine guy is telling me about his band, I decide it is the perfect opportunity for me to profess my undying respect for “opening bands”. He told me a little more about the band, and we had a very pleasant talk. To say that my interest was caught would be an understatement. He informed me that they are called “Old Man Markley” and they are a Bluegrass Punk band. Now that is a part of rock and roll that you don’t see every day! After the trim is complete, the freshly shaven gentleman walks past me, so I take a moment to say, “Hey.” He took the time to stop and chat with me about his band. I look over at the little colorful bus and see one of the female members of the group giving one of the guys a fresh Mohawk. I can now allow myself to relax a little and take in a little more of my surroundings… without being too lax of course. Courtesy of Old Man Markley’s Facebookīy now, I have collected all but one of the signatures from the band that I set out to meet. There is no real sense of urgency, but it’s obvious that this is a task that has been completed several times before. By now, a few more of the venue staff have come out to direct traffic of the freshly unloaded equipment. Each taking their share of guitar cases, drum pieces, amps and finally a modest plastic tub with “Merch” scrawled across it. After taking a few minutes to get oriented to their new destination, the door of the trailer opens, and these weary travelers suddenly morph into full-fledge crew members. How many more can there possibly be in there? The passengers range to a guy who is dressed in a way that makes him easy to identify as being “with the band”, other guys going for the comfort of shorts and t-shirts, and two of the female passengers who appear to still be in their PJ’s. By the time the last members are off, I can’t help but draw a comparison to a VW Beatle filled with clowns. Over the next half an hour or so, more bodies exit the bus. I can’t help but think that while they probably don’t even know where they have landed, they are glad to be here. As the door to the humble bus opens, a couple of people make their way off the bus. While I have not let this distraction deviate me from my mission, I can’t help be at least somewhat grateful to have some action to help pass the time until I can complete the task at hand. This event can only mean one thing… The opening band has arrived. The staffer guides the tiny bus with its modest trailer in its designated spot for the evening, leaving it to rest in its shadow of the grand tour bus. No, this bus is painted with teal, purple and yellow stripes. His presence seems to have something to do with a small bus pulling into the lot. To my disappointment, it has nothing to do with the shiny red tour bus holding “the band”. His appearance has given me hope that something is about to happen. As time goes by the bus door has not opened once, but a lone member of the venue staff has made their way out of the venue’s back door. My eyes are fixed on Courtesy Old Man Markley FacebookĪ large tour bus, just knowing that at any minute the doors will open and all of my “hard work” will pay off. I am standing out back with my album covers clenched in one arm, and two different colored Sharpies in my other hand. It is still hours before the doors of the venue are set to open for tonight’s show. Dedicated to Old Man Markley (and all of the other unknown bands traveling around the U.S.
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