It has been a while since I’ve been here. New faces. (Lex, I missed you!)

I forgot how noisy this gig is. Probably the noisiest venue I play. A line from my song “Honky Tonk Romans” comes to mind:

“I was singing just like a bird / But nobody heard my beautiful words / I must looked and sounded so absurd.

However, as I’ve said a hundred times before, noisy crowds are listening more closely than they appear. Invariably, I discover afterwards that they’ve heard things in surprising detail. Specific songs, lyrics, musical passages. So I never give a lazy performance… no matter what.

The sight may seem bizarre — a singer-songwriter in a dimly-lit raised section of a noisy drinking/restaurant establishment, pushing it out like his life depended on it. I’m sure there are few hipsters who find it almost comical, misinterpreting my earnestness as desperation. But I keep the between-song stage banter to a minimum, let the music do the talking, and folks show their appreciation.

Certain songs grab them. (This is how I know they’re listening.) The tune that turned heads last night? “Jesus.”

It’s a new one. And I don’t quite understand why it has become a hit. At every single show, I am approached: “Which album is that ‘Jesus’ song on?”

Essentially, “that Jesus song” is a twist on Appalachian hillstompin’ Gospel. I wanted to call it “A More In-Your-Face Jesus” (a phrase I lifted from an article I read about a painter in the South who depicts a Savior sporting a mullet, with tattoos & piercings and muscle — the kind of messiah that children could look up to as an ass-kicking hero… instead of that ineffectual gentle shepherd who said “suffer the little children to come unto me.)

I chose not to title it so sardonically; I never want to come across as making fun of anybody. (If there is humor in a satirical piece, such humor is more effective when borne upon honest affection for the subject.)

The lyrical content is a strident, machismo warning about the head-rolling that’s bound to happen when the Messiah returns pissed off. It’s a lot of fun to perform, I tell ya! I mean to offend nobody. And if anyone does get offended, I just hope they can take a moment to think about what it is we artists do. We tell stories. We put on characters. We have fun indulging in language and scenarios that strike our imagination.

I like to think of this song as my All in the Family moment. Do you remember that sitcom from the 70′s? Archie Bunker was a hilarious character. Liberal progressives and cultural activists laughed at his bigotry as satire. To them, he looked utterly, ridiculously ignorant — a clear portrayal of the banality of reactionary prejudice. For rightwingers and reactionaries, Archie “told it like it is,” putting liberals like “Meathead” their place with poignant working class expressions of frustration in a changing world.

In retrospect, we all know the correct take on Carrol O’Conner’s portrayal. But at the time, everybody was happy. My conservative dad liked him. My liberal mom loved to hate him. And the network had a long-running hit.

So, what I have here is a tune that gives some people a laugh at the satire they find in it. Others — folks who are “believers” —are free to enjoy the song as a strangely executed twist on Appalachian Gospel. They are welcome to. I see no reason why not. It’s always best when I perform it without irony. And truth be told, the “more-in-your-face-Jesus” is a character right out of some preachers’ sermons. I didn’t make Him up.

Last night was one of my better Moon Time gigs. The place was packed. (Iron Man Triathalon is in town.) Even though they were typically noisy on Dollar-Pint Night, they were listening. applauding after every song, tipping, making requests, and buying CD’s. I tested their attentiveness by directly soliciting tips–announcing that my local hotel of choice had raised its rates by 40 percent. They responded. I would not have done this had I not been sure that I was playing well, already making a warm connection by virtue of the performance. One does not resort to playing on the audience’s sympathies for the poor starving traveling troubadour. One only asks for voluntary compensation after providing solid entertainment. (Speaking of compensation, I thank Moon Time for paying their solo artists well. It’s always a reassuring way to start a tour. And the comped meal is spectacular.)

I mentioned that folks were making requests…

This is touchy area for some singer/songwriters, but not for me. I’ve heard some artists mutter, “I ain’t a fuckin’ jukebox.” Me, I welcome requests. It usually means that they like what they’re hearing from me. They enjoy what I do, and wonder if I might enhance the evening with a certain song they like. I’m not offended. It’s not that they’re bothered or bored by my set, and would I please just play something else?! It shows that they like music, and have confidence that I can play anything. Hell, if someone thinks that I can pull off a James Taylor or John Mayer song, I take that as a bit of flattery.

However, I almost never know how to play the song they ask for. And as for James Taylor, I’m not really a fan. And I’m particularly not a fan of James Taylor cover-doers either. I usually take requests as useful information about what mood a group of folks are in. I’ve got 100 of my own songs to choose from, plus about 30 idiosyncratic covers. I can take care of their listening needs in my own way.

What matters is engagement between audience and performer. In the venues I play–wine bars, taverns, coffeehouses, restaurants–any kind of engagement is golden.

What I really like is when people request actual Shipe tunes. Good thing Lex was there. He’s an old friend from early Moscow John’s Alley and KUOI Radio days of the 90′s. He reminds me that he’s been coming to see me play for 17 years! How can I refuse his request for “Delivered” and “Know By Now.” (These are two songs that came real close to hit singles back in the Renegade Saints days. They remain catchy, but I have been gradually morphing them into more modern cadences via slightly eccentric performance. I would like to run into to more Saints fans and test out these treatments.)

The P.A. system we carry around has no monitors. But the Moon Time has a flat wall behind the bar, pretty close to us in front of the stage. So we crank that system up, hacking away at our rocker tunes, like “Road Story,” “I’m not Sorry,” and Jerry Joseph’s “World Will Turn.” Andthe sound bounces back at us, guitars and voices blended in a beautiful swirly wash. (Oh, those poor bar tenders!)

Funny, the Moon Time is a small intimate place, with all the makings of quiet acoustic venue. (While John’s Alley is a big ole wood & concrete tavern suitable for kicking ass.) But Moon Time is a talkative audience on Thursday–Dollar Microbrew Pint Night. This puts us acoustic folkie-singer-songwriter-troubadors in a potentially awkward postition, especially with Ebbage’s high ballad-to-rocker ratio. (All those sweet love songs.) But you have to trust that the crowd is listening and appreciating in their dollar-pint-night way. They don’t play the role of “audience” exactly, but you must play your set with assurance and authority nonetheless. They know when they’re hearing something of quality, even though they don’t sit with eyes glued to the stage, hanging on your every word of song-introduction. In this kind of atmosphere, you don’t waste time between songs. Keep it moving, and take advantage of those moments in the night when they do seem to want a bit of stage talk.

They never fail to show their appreciation. Always chatting us up between sets and after the show, buying CD’s and getting on the mailing list.

And thank god I finally bot my lap steel act together, making myself more welcome on those lovely Ebbage tunes.