In fact, there are generally several music scenes that operate simultaneously, and apparently there is quite a bit of isolation between them. Musicians in the Indy-Alt-Tattoo scene probably have no awareness of the Jazz-Jam scene or the New-Country scene going down in the club three blocks over, and vice-versa.
There's also a totally hidden music scene that I've been hanging with for a few months now, and I don't think you'll ever see it written up in your local weekly arts'n'music paper. I call this the Old White Men Pounding Out The Blues scene.
I first started noticing this scene a few months ago, when my friend Dan invited me to a Wednesday evening jam session in a small wine bar in a nearby town. My wife strongly encouraged me to go, to keep my chops up and to keep my mind off my seemingly interminable unemployment.
I dropped in to check it out, and got to play a bit, too. Most of the players were about my age; that is (ahem) somewhat long in the tooth. White hair, suspenders, and gray goatees abounded on us old hipsters, in our relaxed-fit jeans and XXL Hawaiian shirts. I had a great time playing blues and classic rock standards.
Through that jam, I met Michael—a singer and blues harp player—who invited me to his monthly jam session up in Portland. This is nominally a blues jam, with a core band. I've been to this jam a couple of times now and this is where I started thinking about this scene.
The members of Michael's band were all old white men, with one exception. They all had excellent equipment—either brand-new Gibsons and Fenders, or funky relics that were new when they were children. In other words, expensive stuff the alt-band kiddies can only dream of. These are the kind of axes only a good-paying day gig gets you.
The players generally have conservative day-gig haircuts, they drive new, reliable day-gig cars, and don't seem to worry too much about anything.
Well it's the old man's
got all the money,
and a young man
ain't got nothin' in the world these days*
got all the money,
and a young man
ain't got nothin' in the world these days*
And so, these old white men pound out the blues, week after week. I think most of them played in rock bands when they were younger, but blues is less demanding in terms of remembering complex arrangements and chords.
As I scan around the web, I see a lot of bands and gigs like this. In general, bands that describe themselves as "classic rock" will be of the same demographic.
A couple of generations ago, a gentleman of this age would likely spend his evenings in a comfy leather wingback chair, wearing a smoking jacket and fez, reading a hardbound mystery novel. Now we're down at the brew-pub, pounding out the blues.
*Mose Allison,
Young Man Blues
Young Man Blues
