I’m talking about Jerry-Groove and Mike Last from The Stagger and Sway. Truth be told, I was a lot more worried about myself than about the rhythm section. Jerry-Groove has been in my band before; I trust his memory. And as for Mike, he has a lot of experience jumping into bands on the fly (like Dan Jones & The Squids and Salt Lick). Being the singer-songwriting front man of Stagger, Mike has a strong sense of structure and song trajectory, which translates to a very musical style of drumming.

For my own part, however, I hadn’t touched my electric guitar in months. To get through 3 sets of electric music, (which is what McMenamins expects for the Father Luke room at OSF), I would have to play lengthy guitar solos. Moreover, I absolutely despise my amplifier and simply cannot manage its tone like a rocker should.

And yet, there we were, sounding like a damn good tight band. Professionals.

Admittedly, we filled up some set time with intermittent acoustic songs and story-telling. I brought Mike out from behind the drum kit to perform a few Stagger and Sway songs. But this came off like quality stage-craft rather than time-filler. The audience appreciated being treated to that kind of show, rather than a bombardment of 3 hours of jamming (which I can’t pull off like a Jerry Joseph can).

The house wasn’t utterly packed, but all the tables were full. They stayed, they applauded like crazy, they bought CD’s. They even complimented me on my guitar playing and tone.

Even so, in retrospect, I regret having used up so much time with presentation and acoustic music. We over-compensated. The night was over before we knew it, and there were electric songs we didn’t even get to. A couple of which are right in Jerry-Groove’s wheelhouse, like “Underground Debutante,” and Jerry Joseph’s “World Will Turn.”

I will have to book another electric show ASAP.

The hour-and-a-half went by in a snap, and I could have easily gone another half-hour. It might have been nature of the event. You know, wine & art in the park. And it might have been the home-town welcome. But the moment was surprisingly intimate — suitable for a singer/songwriter sitting on a chair, wearing a tie and a fedora, with a guitar, a ukulele, and a few stories to tell. It was just me hanging out with an audience sitting on blankets in the sun on a grassy field. Not much different from a wine-bar or coffee house gig.

My eyes were opened to the potential power of the solo set about 6 years ago, when I was booked as an opener for Jerry Joseph at John Henry’s in Eugene. Jerry was on a solo acoustic tour, without the Jackmormons. But I didn’t have a solo set worked up at the time, so I brought my band The Blue Rebekahs.

Conventional wisdom says that full bands play after acoustic acts. But conventional wisdom also says that John Shipe plays before Jerry Joseph. So I asked him: “Hey Jerry, is it all right that I brought my band?”

Jerry answered, “I ain’t afraid of no f–kin’ band.”

(Now, before you interpret this brusque response as rude, I should tell you that Jerry later invited me to sit in on his set. After I jammed on two songs, he said, “It sounds so good, why don’t you just stay up here and play the rest of the show.” Graciousness with fellow musicians can be one of Jerry’s golden features.)

In that moment, I vowed to also never be afraid of playing solo, in any environment, on any stage, on any bill. The trick is to make sure that your acoustic versions are not merely quieter versions. They are different; not less. You gotta lean into that difference. Sing along with the solo acoustic instrument that you’re playing in the moment, not the absent band in your head. Furthermore, as you embrace the intimacy, you’ll find it surprising just how aggressive, rockin’ and big you can get all by yourself. But it must make sense in sonic context. (I have discovered this in my acoustic version of Al Toribio’s “Letter Home.” In The Renegade Saints, this song is powerful, grandiose Southern rocker. By my lone acoustic self, I enter the song softly, relaxed. 3 minutes later, I find myself belting out the vocals and banging out the chords, but in an entirely “acoustic” way, earned through a gradual intimate trajectory.)

About that ukulele. I’m still working on it. I can’t keep it tune, my rhythms are plain, and I haven’t yet tapped into those wonderful uke-swinging 4-note chords that make it so special. But damn! It never fails to be a showstopper. One woman came up to me later: “When I heard that ukulele, I came running over to the stage to see what was going on.” So, no doubt I will be delving deeper into uke territory.