Observations From the Bar

You see so much going on in a bar

You learn a lot about people when visiting a bar (or pub). It’s a place where many of us go on the weekend to forget our lives. We want to forget our troubles like that project you need to do, your crappy week, or your boss breathing down your neck.

My local watering hole is a combination of bar/community club, and I visit it on most weekends. It’s been closed during Covid but now opening up. I haven’t been this excited in a long time. Life at home has been so boring.

When I first arrive, I’m greeted by that sickly smell of tobacco smoke and the skunkiness of pot from the outside smoking area. People huddle under the canopy having a puff. I can hear the muffled drone of the guitars, drums, and bass.

Bars aren’t for everyone. They are loud, people are drunk as hell, the smell of stale beer on the tables is sickening, and the bathrooms are living hell holes. For me, this doesn’t matter.

The music is live.

I live for live music. It’s what keeps me sane in this crazy world. I love listening to the bands play as they give me inspiration for my own guitar playing. There’s nothing that beats live music. The mistakes, the rawness of it all. Music is something we can all share. It’s one thing that brings people together, whether it’s in a bar or a sold-out show.

As I make my way inside to grab a beer, I recognize the locals. The dance floor is full, and there are the two best dancers I’ve ever seen tearing it up. Both these guys know their stuff, and they dance better than anything you’ll see on the rehearsed Dancing with the Stars show. They rip it up on every song. It’s fun to watch them out there. No one can touch their moves. They are always there.

Tommy hasn’t been around for ages, even before Covid. He has some mental health challenges, but he can sure sing. I miss his Oh, Pretty Woman by Roy Orbison during the jam sessions. He lets it all out up there, and the crowd gives him a big cheer. Once he’s done, he picks up his backpack, and out the door, he goes. I hope he comes back.

The stage feels empty now that Dan is gone. He passed away a year ago. He could sure play the bass as well as guitar. He showed that age doesn’t matter. In his 70s, he played his heart out with renditions of the 50–70s hits. I’d often hear him play at a local restaurant — the smooth sounds of an acoustic guitar as I dig into a good bowl of curry.

I’ve seen so many good musicians at this bar. None of them will ever make it big. They have more talent than most of the so-called “famous.” They’ll keep playing, and no one will care except the crowd at the bar. The music industry is cruel.

A guy walks into a pub with a lump of asphalt on His shoulder, He says to the bar man give us a pint and one for the road. Tommy Cooper

The crowd gets louder as the band tears into some Stevie Ray Vaughan. I smile as I always like to hear his tunes. Life by the Drop is my favorite. I watch someone stumble towards the door and see the lights of a cab outside. I’ve been there too many times.

The harmonica guy is playing near me. He sits there in the bar with his harmonica pretending he’s playing the tunes. The band should let him on stage. He can’t play, but let him anyways. I’d cheer like heck for him.

I love the music in a bar. There’s no real reason to go if there are no tunes. Music is what makes the bar. It could be a dive, but if the tunes are good, I’m in.

We need more music in this world. The bar gives that to me. The players on stage let their souls out in song. Music could heal this world if we would only listen.

I drain the last of my beer.

Just observations.

And the music plays on.

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