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Gonzo Report: Winning with the winners at the San Diego Music Awards
Bets by the Bay
Almost Monday at the SDMAs
A recent Tuesday evening found me on Shelter Island, there to attend this year’s San Diego Music Awards at Humphreys by the Bay. Because the show was sold out, I was advised to show up early to secure a photo pass. Riding solo for the evening, I rolled up to the first point of entry. A woman at the table wrapped a blue band around my wrist to let the Authorities know I was allowed to buy alcohol. “I don’t think I’m going to be drinking tonight,” I said. “But I’ll take it just in case the winds turn, and the sailor inside me decides to make an appearance.”
Ignoring my reference to the beautiful boats bobbing in the bay, she ushered me along toward the second level of security. There, I was asked to put my hands across my chest as a wand checked me for weapons. Fortunately, I had left my marlinspike at home. Permission to come aboard the SS SDMAs was granted.
Inside, it was early — too early for a proper party atmosphere. There was still too much daylight left. I walked around aimlessly until the first familiar face appeared: Josh Weinstein, whose "Jesus of Neverland" had been nominated for Best Folk or Acoustic Song. After a quick greeting, I headed for the snack bar and dropped twenty bucks on coffee, water, and popcorn. I planned to make that money back by hedging bets throughout the evening with whoever was down. My first bet was on Weinstein with a random punk rocker also named Jake. (Later, after Weinstein took home the trophy, Jake sent me my winnings via Venmo and noted, “We’ve got a strong name.")
I began to scope out the crowd — which was clad mostly in formal attire — searching for my next mark. Just then, The Euphoria Brass Band began marching its way to the stage, nearly running me over. You’d hate to get trampled by a tuba player during an awards show…it’s unbecoming. If someone stepped on your windpipe, you'd have to be intubated. Womp womp. After jumping out of the way, another face from the recent past presented itself. Local music fanatic Marlene pointed a finger at me; we had met at the Mr. Crowley show in Ramona a couple months back. “I want to get some good pictures and video tonight,” she said. “It’s for my live broadcast on Facebook.”
Matthew Phillips
Matthew Phillips then took the stage to perform a couple of his poppy jams. “Follow me,” I told Marlene. With my photo pass and a dash of confidence from winning my last bet, I was able to get Marlene close to the action for photos and videos. Phillips went on to win the award for Best Pop Artist.
As we made our way back to the standing area, I heard somebody say that trophies are for people with self-esteem issues. After careful thought on that statement, I concluded that it might be true, but it's also just cool to get recognition for hard work and talent. If somebody wants to give you an award you’ve earned, then I say, take it and shine it for a little while. Then keep working and let the dust fall on it. Unless maybe it’s a lifetime achievement award. I’m not sure how much higher you can get when the likes of Eric Clapton, Ringo Starr, and Tony Robbins send a congratulations video, which is exactly what they did for bassist Nathan East. East accepted the award, then slapped on a bass and proved his groove.
Nathan East
With just a few categories left, Marlene and I dropped back into the crowd with our healthily stuffed camera rolls. I looked to make some end-of-the-evening bets on Thee Sacred Souls’ Got a Story to Tell for Album of the Year, but couldn’t find any takers. Everyone was hip to the touring trio —who couldn’t make it to the show. Then Marlene introduced me to her friend who said he played drums for Rick Springfield. “Do you even know who that is?” he asked me. To prove that I did, I could have referenced the immortal rhyming of "cute" and "moot" in "Jesse's Girl," but I decided on a more esoteric route. “He was on the show Californication one season,” I said. “He was a helping hand for a comatose stripper.” I knew I’d earned some props with my reply. A trophy was not necessary.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Gonzo Report: Winning with the winners at the San Diego Music Awards
Bets by the Bay
Gonzo Report: Winning with the winners at the San Diego Music Awards
Bets by the Bay
Almost Monday at the SDMAs
A recent Tuesday evening found me on Shelter Island, there to attend this year’s San Diego Music Awards at Humphreys by the Bay. Because the show was sold out, I was advised to show up early to secure a photo pass. Riding solo for the evening, I rolled up to the first point of entry. A woman at the table wrapped a blue band around my wrist to let the Authorities know I was allowed to buy alcohol. “I don’t think I’m going to be drinking tonight,” I said. “But I’ll take it just in case the winds turn, and the sailor inside me decides to make an appearance.”
Ignoring my reference to the beautiful boats bobbing in the bay, she ushered me along toward the second level of security. There, I was asked to put my hands across my chest as a wand checked me for weapons. Fortunately, I had left my marlinspike at home. Permission to come aboard the SS SDMAs was granted.
Inside, it was early — too early for a proper party atmosphere. There was still too much daylight left. I walked around aimlessly until the first familiar face appeared: Josh Weinstein, whose "Jesus of Neverland" had been nominated for Best Folk or Acoustic Song. After a quick greeting, I headed for the snack bar and dropped twenty bucks on coffee, water, and popcorn. I planned to make that money back by hedging bets throughout the evening with whoever was down. My first bet was on Weinstein with a random punk rocker also named Jake. (Later, after Weinstein took home the trophy, Jake sent me my winnings via Venmo and noted, “We’ve got a strong name.")
I began to scope out the crowd — which was clad mostly in formal attire — searching for my next mark. Just then, The Euphoria Brass Band began marching its way to the stage, nearly running me over. You’d hate to get trampled by a tuba player during an awards show…it’s unbecoming. If someone stepped on your windpipe, you'd have to be intubated. Womp womp. After jumping out of the way, another face from the recent past presented itself. Local music fanatic Marlene pointed a finger at me; we had met at the Mr. Crowley show in Ramona a couple months back. “I want to get some good pictures and video tonight,” she said. “It’s for my live broadcast on Facebook.”
Matthew Phillips
Matthew Phillips then took the stage to perform a couple of his poppy jams. “Follow me,” I told Marlene. With my photo pass and a dash of confidence from winning my last bet, I was able to get Marlene close to the action for photos and videos. Phillips went on to win the award for Best Pop Artist.
As we made our way back to the standing area, I heard somebody say that trophies are for people with self-esteem issues. After careful thought on that statement, I concluded that it might be true, but it's also just cool to get recognition for hard work and talent. If somebody wants to give you an award you’ve earned, then I say, take it and shine it for a little while. Then keep working and let the dust fall on it. Unless maybe it’s a lifetime achievement award. I’m not sure how much higher you can get when the likes of Eric Clapton, Ringo Starr, and Tony Robbins send a congratulations video, which is exactly what they did for bassist Nathan East. East accepted the award, then slapped on a bass and proved his groove.
Nathan East
With just a few categories left, Marlene and I dropped back into the crowd with our healthily stuffed camera rolls. I looked to make some end-of-the-evening bets on Thee Sacred Souls’ Got a Story to Tell for Album of the Year, but couldn’t find any takers. Everyone was hip to the touring trio —who couldn’t make it to the show. Then Marlene introduced me to her friend who said he played drums for Rick Springfield. “Do you even know who that is?” he asked me. To prove that I did, I could have referenced the immortal rhyming of "cute" and "moot" in "Jesse's Girl," but I decided on a more esoteric route. “He was on the show Californication one season,” I said. “He was a helping hand for a comatose stripper.” I knew I’d earned some props with my reply. A trophy was not necessary.