Shows this weekend:
Wednesday 1.24.24 - Walker’s Tap & Table, Glenwood, MD 6-9pm
Friday 1.26.24 - Carlisle Club (Members Only), Carlisle, PA 7:30-11pm
Saturday 1.27.24 - Lebanon Valley Craft Brewery, Lebanon, PA 5:30-8:30pm
THURSDAY THOUGHTS…..
My show was canceled last Friday due to snow, so I decided to do a live-stream on Facebook. I have to admit, I wasn’t prepared for the way I felt when I was setting up all the equipment for the first time in this new house. I found my mind transported back to that old house in Marysville where I first pressed START on a live stream, playing and singing into a camera for anyone, anywhere, who would listen.
When covid appeared and shut down all the venues I was playing, I turned to the world of live-streaming for the ability to perform in front of people. My show at Hook and Flask on Sunday, March 22, 2020 had been canceled due to the lockdowns, so I made the decision to take it online for the first time. I was about 45 pounds heavier than I am now and I was wearing a yellow hat that didn’t quite fit my bulbous head. I was nervous and not sure that anyone would even watch. The computer I used was occupying a lonely, drafty and cold room in my newly empty house. My ex-wife and I had recently separated, and I was really struggling with understanding what I was even doing with my life anymore. And then the pandemic hit. So, with not much to lose, and a burning desire to be heard, I adjusted the lighting, stared into the camera, checked the levels one more time, and started the intro music.
I remember feeling like I just needed to connect with SOMEONE.
Three……Two…….One. A glowing blue light indicated that the camera that was on. I nervously talked for a few minutes about my album release that had been thwarted by the universe. I played my original songs and gave my descriptions of why I wrote them. I spoke directly into the camera lens, knowing the people on the other side were most likely alone, and afraid, just like me. The lockdowns had forced us to be apart, to isolate and avoid our closest people. To this day some of that gap has remained unbridged, but I was convinced music had the power to bring comfort and connection, if I could just somehow reach some people in need. To my surprise, I only had to wait two minutes and twelve seconds for the first person to make their presence known. “Sounds awesome” said Jeff Zigner. I can’t explain the level of comfort I felt from that first comment. Someone was listening.
People continued to join at a steady pace, and by the time I played my second song, I didn’t feel so alone anymore. The stream continued for nearly two hours, with people requesting songs and proclaiming they were singing along. Clap emojis and laughing faces littered the comment feed. It felt like we were all together, collectively escaping the new reality we had all been thrust into, even if only for a moment. It didn’t fix where we were at that time, but it definitely seemed to make it more manageable.
And that’s exactly what it continued to be. An escape, a gathering place, a weekly community check-in to have some fun and just be together. For some people it was a date night soundtrack, for others it was a living room or garage party. It reached farther than I imagined it ever would, crossing state lines and country borders. It gave us all hope. It gave me hope.
I’ve since moved on to playing live gigs again, and the livestreams have become less frequent. But, the people I connected with during that time have remained. I’m still constantly blown away when people come up to me after shows and tell me their live-stream stories. They tell me that by joining in the livestream each week they strengthened their families, their marriages, and sometimes even themselves. That they had something to look forward to in a world plagued with uncertainty and fear. That they felt connected. People often thank me for doing it, not realizing I needed it just as much as they did. We all went through some of my lowest moments together, whether they knew it or not. I’m grateful every single day for the people who kept me going during that time, and I’d tell you all of their names, but it would take hours to read the list.
The livestreams ended up verifying my hypothesis, that music does have the power to comfort and connect. It has the power to unite and feed our souls in an ever changing and terrifying world. And while I thought the time for online performing had passed, spending some time with everyone again last week made me realize that the world may need this now, even more than it did before. A virtual hangout to escape the craziness of reality and the heaviness of life. It feels like we could all use a little more of that, so I’m going to make it a goal to bring us all together for a community check-in a little more often. I’d love it if you would join me, and everyone else that shows up, for some free online music therapy. No catch. Watch the Facebook page, Dave Gates Music, for updates and scheduled live streams, and I can’t wait to hang out with everyone again.