In 1990, Teddy and I got a band together to take our songs out of the studio, and into the real (live) world. In those days (before the Internet), we (Ted) had to go to a printshop to have flyers printed up announcing an upcoming gig, add addresses and postage to the flyers (Ted), mail the flyers (maybe me?), make a lot of phone calls (definitely Ted), and then hope that somebody would show up (both of us).
And after all that, the audience was usually comprised of a few club regulars, band member's significant others, and maybe a die-hard friend or two. It was frustrating, but a chance to play our songs (without having to "pay to play"), and the general endorphin rush of live performance outweighed the downsides of gigging in Los Angeles.
When we scored a chance to play at "Molly Malone's" on Fairfax, we were definitely psyched. The club had a reputation for a good sound system, and an appreciative music crowd.
The night before the gig we had an amazing rehearsal; the band was really getting "tight".
After rehearsal I realized my voice was shot. I could barely speak, but I figured I'd be fine in the morning.
Nope.
I didn't want to cancel at such short notice, as this would jeopardize our standing with the club and could damage the morale of the band, and so, with much personal trepidation and silent prayers, we took the stage when the club's MC announced "Eckey Thump!".
My wife, Sara, had brought our then one-year-old daughter Eleanore to the club that night to watch us perform. Unfortunately, the strict "21 and over only" policy forced Sara to stand just outside the door holding our baby girl.
"The show must go on" is a great motivational phrase, but the reality of being a lead singer with a broken voice was destroying my confidence, and half way through the set I was at the point of walking off the stage.
As we began the ballad "Ode for Ali-Baba", I was thankful that the band's accompaniment was sparse, and I wouldn't have push too hard to be heard. I was still quite miserable as I soldiered on through the song, and was grateful for the chance to rest during the twelve bar instrumental bridge before the last verse and chorus.
And then, in the short dramatic silence before the last verse, I heard a magical word from the back of the room: "Daddy!". Eleanore had taken advantage of the brief quiet to vocalize one of the few words she knew. The crowd laughed, and my tension, and personal torments immediately left the building. Everything was in perspective, and I finished the set feeling a lot better. I apologized to my bandmates and the crowd, thanked the couple of friends who showed up, inhaled a beer, and went home with my young family.
Later on, I remember sitting in the office of a record company executive with Teddy, as she told us how much she loved this song, and how it was a hit, but how she couldn't sign us based on one single.
Much later on (last month), when my now grown-up baby girl asked me when I was planning to post this song to the blog ("because I really like it"), I felt a flush of pride, shrugged noncommittally, and thought "August 15th... on your 25th birthday".
Happy birthday Eleanore! You are my platinum record.
Ode for Ali-Baba
We danced to Bojangles' song
We danced to it all night long
And when the music was over
I stood all alone in the ballroom withdrawn
Her dress full and flowing fades
As we float across yesterdays
Her eyes brown and glowing
As we stare at the end of a New Orleans parade
The crowd's all around
and they gaze and they sigh
They'll never know it's time
Sing the ode for Ali-Baba has to say goodbye
Had I kept him from cutting in
We'd waltz time and time again
In three-quarter time your step inside mine
How was I so blind
I miss you Ali-Baba so
I miss you deep in my soul
I think of you so true it hurts inside me too
And now we'll never grow old
The crowd's all around
and they gaze and they sigh
They'll never know it's time
Sing the ode for Ali-Baba has to say goodbye
And I can't find the reason why
And it just isn't fair that my
My dance in New York City should end in despair
And such passion should die
Well the songs in my memory
And the ballroom will always be
Like your touch on my shoulder as I lead as I croon
Your life's inside of me
Chad Stuart: arranged and conducted the beautiful string arrangement, and played the piano and electric bass
Britt Bacon: vocals, keyboards
Teddy Zambetti: drums
???: string section
Written by Britt Bacon and Teddy Zambetti
©1989
Source: 1/4" analogue tape 30ips
