The Wine Street In gave us a meal, usually a baked Idaho spud and a salad. That took good care of us as the spuds were the gigantic ones, lathered in Ranch Dressing, cheddar cheese, and some bacon bits...yum, the perfect pre gig meal! We could have all the fondue we wanted but cheese and singing are not good bedfellows, especially in that amount. And anyway, when you played at the WSI it was a guarantee that you would smell like swiss cheese when you left. Some nights we would end early and then go club hopping. Whenever we walked in people would say, "smells like you played at the Wine Street Inn" ...ha!. But, we were well fed with an ample supply of beer or wine and good friends and beautiful music....a grand night out.
After the band changed and several of the boys moved on, I started playing solos more. Wine Street Inn was one of my consistent places to play. By then the music was really just background for people waiting to be seated. I knew why I was there and so grew accustomed to most of the people not really listening. I would just play covers, not much original, song after song in what we in the biz would call, a paid rehearsal. But boy, did it get lonely at times. I became good friends with the employees and would often sing to them, especially Bernice, the petite blond with hair down to her knees (I had hair down to my waist...kindred spirits). I did, however, develop an interesting habit down there, one that would open a much more profound door to me in my later music years. In an effort to think I was connecting with people I would pay attention to anything that moved, hands, feet, head bobbing, an upper body sway. I would then play to that movement knowing that there was a connection. Music does that...impacts the body. Where there is movement there is an opening. This became one of the vehicles I used when I started writing spiritual self help music when I joined Unity Church in the late 80's. That connection opened the door to a serious exploration into sound and vibration as a healing modality
But sadly, the WIne Street Inn, like so many downtown restaurants through the golden years, came and went. But the memories abound. I can still see the place and smell the cheese and see a band of brothers tuning...tuning...tuning... Questions? Email me at markoffice@markstantonwelch.net Click outside of this box to return to main page
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