I was sitting in a bar in St. Louis in the mid-80's watching a band called PM. This band was a power trio that was very reminiscent of The Police with a twist of Steely Dan thrown in. They were all incredibly talented. As a matter of fact, they eventually turned in to Jimmy Buffet's touring band for over a decade, but I digress. Their songs were far more advanced and constructed than the band I was in at the time. Their vocals were perfect. Their time was impeccable. Everything about them told you that they were in a different league from the other bands in the area.

After each song they performed, the 7 people in the club that night had their own opinion about PM. Five of them didn't care and weren't listening at all. One kept requesting Mustang Sally and I just kept clapping as loud as I could after every song blown away by the sheer talent of what I was seeing and the outright rudeness and ignorance from the handful of people around me. It was then I was reminded of a comment I heard about Tower of Power from a fellow musician a couple of years back. He had gone to a concert of theirs and commented to a friend of his at the time, It's a good thing you don't have to be THAT good to be in this business. That comment was brought back to me this week a few days ago.

I'm not a big advocate of looking back fondly about the Good Ol Days or complaining about the state of the music business in general. I fully understand that this life I've chosen is solely based on the whim of others in the first place. No one is required to come and see live music or purchase music in any form. You can get along without it, but it would dreadfully dull wouldn't it? You could compare it to eating food without any spice or flavor. You get the sustenance but lack the pleasure factor of partaking in the activity. Nevertheless, everyone truly could survive without music and that fact reminds me every day that the fact I can make a respectable living doing it makes it all the more remarkable to me.

While looking back is a waste of time in most cases, when you see something that brings you back to a time and place, it’s natural to reflect. I recently dropped in to The Narrows in Orono on a Saturday night after my gig at Dunn Brothers in Exceclsior was finished. I came there to see a Soul singer named Sam Kuusisto and his big band. The drummer of the band was Bobby Vandell, who is someone I’ve played with for a very long time in Mick Sterling and the Stud Brothers and now with one of my new bands Memphis and the Meantimes. Bobby had been telling me for months that this young man was something very special and I had been wanting to see him, but our schedules always conflicted, so I hadn't seen him perform until that Saturday night. What I witnessed that night brought back a lot of memories of my early days in the business and the state of what the business is now.

Let me be perfectly clear with this statement; Sam Kuusisto is one of the finest singers of any genre that I've seen in this town for a very long time. The short time I watched him that night, Sam took songs that I've heard others sing for a long time, including my own versions of these songs, and made them his own in a way I hadn't witnessed since Doug Maynard. His band featured a three-piece horn section and a ridiculously tight rhythm section that reminded me of the early days of the Stud Brothers and the TC Jammers/Doug Maynard Band in their heyday. The band was terrific and the sound technician had the room sounded like Steve Raitt was looking down and guiding his choices. It was a Steve Raitt mix I was listening to. Unfortunately, the room I was watching Sam perform in was filled with the same type of apathy I witnessed when I lived in St. Louis. It was another instance of a band playing above the vast majority of the crowd. It was a band that was playing for a crowd that frankly, had little to no interest or knowledge of the abundance of talent of the musicians and the brilliance and unlimited potential of the singer.

It struck me that that the Sam Kuusisto Band, while no doubt incredibly talented, would've been better served 30 years ago when people going to a club to hear music actually listened to music. When people flocked to extraordinary musicians and singers instead of flocking to bands that you know all the songs to and they allow you to sing along with them. When people didn't have the technology in their hands to watch a concert on their cell phone and text their friends sitting across the table from them at the same time. When people's standards weren't set so low because of endless Karoake expeditions and American Idol competitions. Those realizations were hitting me pretty hard as I watched the small crowd not appreciate what they had right in front of them as the band valiantly played on. I'm not complaining mind you. I accept this is the world I work in these days, but again, just because I accept it, doesn't mean I have to endorse it.

In these days of Ray LaMontagne, Amos Lee, Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings and other Retro-Soul artists, it's clear there is a market for the type of music that Sam performs. There are people who appreciate the craft and the talent level I saw at The Narrows that night. I’m venturing in to that world again with my own band The Irresistibles. Both Sam and I have decided to do the music we love, knowing full well that we are playing for an ever dwindling audience that will appreciate the talent level and commitment it takes to truly perform it well. There are easier ways in this music world to make a buck, but there's not a chance in hell I’m going to take that route to make that money. I'd rather not play than to go down that road. Maybe Sam feels the same. Perhaps I'll ask him someday.

As a lead singer, I connected with Sam that night. I know how it feels to perform for a small group of people on a Saturday night that don't appreciate what they're hearing. While I'm not discounting my own talent level by any means, Sam was doing stuff that night that just isn't in me. He has an extraordinary gift. It struck me that if Sam was doing this in the late 70’s or early 80’s in this town, the room would've been packed every night he was on the stage. Perhaps that can happen again, but it's highly doubtful in this town. That has nothing to do with his talent level, it has everything to do with what this market will accept and flock to. That realization is one of the main reasons I ended Mick Sterling and the Stud Brothers. There was a time and place for that band. We rode it out for 17 years, but it was clear that to me the last couple of years that this market wanted nothing to do with a band like the Stud Brothers. And I had no desire to dramatically change it to make it more acceptable. There were other bands doing that already and frankly, I think we proved our point.

If Sam and his band were business savvy, they would drop all the songs I heard and do CELEBRATION or MUSTANG SALLY, or BRICKHOUSE or JET AIRLINER, or SWEET CAROLINE and insist that they sing along and invite people on stage to do so. Sam, please don't achieve that business savvy, I beg of you My soulful peer, I know what it feels like to have a night like I saw at The Narrows. I've had hundreds of them and I'm confident I'll have more the longer I do this. You are traveling down a road that is not easy and is truly appreciated by a diminishing number of club goers. You and your band are cursed with the ability to perform above the standards set by the world we live in these days. There are definitely worse things, like performing way below the standards set, but occasionally, the curse of being too good can hurt your pocketbook and your ego.

For guys like me who've been in the trenches for decades, seeing a singer and a band of such quality being unappreciated was sad to witness. While it’s true that bad gigs can happen just as often as good gigs, it’s hard to remember that when you're being ignored after you killed a solo or sang your ass off. It's hard to get the big picture when you finish a song and you receive no response from the crowd. This business, while fantastic in many ways, can be a very humbling experience for any musician. For someone of the caliber of Sam and his band, it can be especially humbling because they know how good they are and they know what should be happening that isn't happening on a night like I witnessed.