It started out as a reason to wear pants again….
The world had stopped about four years ago. But pandemic hysteria was starting to simmer down, and venues were trying to get back on their feet again while observing the new guidelines, sort of. Either way, Florida was going to Florida, so shit started opening up again down here, asap.
I got a text from someone at Kush, Brickell, (formerly known as Tobacco Road). They wanted to know if I wanted to play every Sunday night as my one-man-band, Uncle Scotchy.
For those not familiar, my Uncle Scotchy setup consists of just me playing the drums with my feet while playing the guitar and singing/playing harmonica all at the same time. I play mostly original, “Blues” type songs that I have written, as well as some standards that I play in my own way. No popular covers, and no apologies. I just do my thing.
I had just spent the past year of drinking Jameson in my house with just the awesome company of my little dog and playing the occasional “virtual” gigs online. But now I had a real gig! A weekly too! Weekly gigs like that are gold for solo musicians. Even in the best of times.
It was finally time to put some pants on, leave my house, and play some live music again. Even though it wasn’t really Tobacco Road anymore, this venue was particularly appealing to me.
I’ve been coming to Tobacco Road to see live Blues since I was in my late teens. I eventually was hired to book the bands there for the last three years it was open. All that nostalgia made it even more special.
The gigs were kind of hit and miss at first. Sometimes there was just a few people eating who didn’t want to hear my bullshit. Sometimes the place would get rocking and the tips pouring in.
The staff at Kush-Brickell, although it may have changed over time, was always super cool to me. They made me feel like part of the family from the beginning.
Not long after I started playing my new weekly gig, venues started hiring full bands to play again. My four-piece band, Juke, was back in business as well.
Fortunately, I had just brought in a new guitar player into Juke who just moved back to Miami. A shredder by the name of Harold Trucco.
Harold started joining me on my solo, Sunday shows. At first it was just for shits and giggles. But we gelled musically and the two of us started forming a unique sound.
As one of the former managers said to us once in a thick, Venezuelan accent, “Ju guys are lie ham an cheese!”
There was a brief period that they decided to put live music on hold, but soon they asked me back. When they did, we worked it out so that Harold would be in the budget. We were then an official duo. A dark, Bluesy cloud, and some lighting.
Although the night was still sometimes hit and miss, Harold and I started having a regular cast of characters come to our weekly shows. Some friends, some musician friends, and some were just music lovers looking for something cool and different that they could dig.
A fourteen-year-old aspiring musician who plays guitar and lives in the area started coming every goddamn Sunday. His name is Pablo. Pablo loves truffle fries and Pepsi. He’s eighteen now, and we consider him our official mascot.
Sometimes “Pablito” would sit in and play guitar with us. Eventually a whole bunch of different talented local musicians would come play as well. It wasn’t an open jam. I didn’t want any riff raff. I liked to call in “an invitational”.
After Harold and I played a few songs, I’d let the guest musicians get up and do their thing to workshop songs they were looking to play on their gigs. My guests would play their bangers too. The nights really became a vibe.
Between the special guests, the locals, and the sometimes weirdo drunk patrons of Kush-Brickell, I never knew how the night was gonna go. But I do remember smiles. Lots of smiles.
After four years of playing every Sunday night as Uncle Scotchy along with the amazing Harold Trucco (also of The Lab), it’s time for a change.
This coming Sunday night, October 12th at 10 pm will be our last show.
It will be bittersweet. But I have nothing but love for the staff, all the people who came to listen to us, the people who didn’t come to listen to us but loved the music anyway, our friends who came to support us, our friends who came to play with us, my guitar player/truly great friend, Harold, and especially Matt Kushner.
This night was Matt’s idea, and I did my best to create a special musical experience with the opportunity he gave me. I only wish that more people in Miami recognized and realized what Harold and I created and laid down every damn week.
It was a gem tucked away in Brickell. In Miami, no less. The city I love and was born in as a 3rd gen “Miamian”.
Four years is a long time for any weekly for a musician. It was a blessing.
The coolest thing about it is something that I appreciate above all else. The thing that made our Sundays well worth loading all my shit in my car every Sunday night, setting it up, breaking it down, and loading it back in my car for the late-night ride home.
Something that most musicians would kill for… They never told us what to play.
