This happened in the summer of 2010. After a year of performing live music consistently – consistent, for me, meaning once every two or three months – I went out looking for my next gig. As a musician with no manager, industry savvy, or popularity, I have always played at very modest and very random venues, in front of a modest and random group of friends. I had just recently booked a more ambitious live show for myself and a few other bands. The rub was that I had to rent out the venue, making me dependent on selling a certain amount of tickets to break even. I sold less than a certain amount. So afterwards I was quite keen on booking a show with no expectations or red tape, where I could enjoy myself. I decided that Starbucks was the perfect place to host this affair. I had performed, and also worked there previously, so it was like what the movers and shakers call a “connection.” The Starbucks of Spring Hill, TN was happy to have me, but the rest of the town would later show me all the hospitality of a hornet’s nest. (This is a literary device known as “foreshadowing”, which is the intent to foreshadow a future event in the story.)
For as long as I’ve been performing live music, I’ve been designing provocative promo flyers. Every band makes flyers, but for me it’s a big deal and a major part of my brand. My flyer designs tend to be more commemorative than promotional, because I acknowledge the fact that showering the earth (or the internet) in them will not increase concert attendance. This is similar to the way that pro-wrestling acknowledges that it is fake so that it can be awesome. So with the date set for the Starbucks show, it was time to make the accompanying promo art. I really wanted to raise some eyebrows, you know, rattle the town’s cage.
If I were to describe the town of Spring Hill, I would not use words like ‘diverse’, ‘vibrant’, or ‘open-minded’. Buried deep in the doldrums of suburban sprawl, Spring Hill is the type of place where families and fast food chains thrive. I figured I could add some color to its dingy main street with some zany signs. I noticed that neon poster boards are popular amongst yard sale advertisers. I believe these bright colors serve a dual purpose: attracting the attention of the consumer and suggesting that the yard sale is fun (sometimes balloons are used as well). I’m sure there’s also a safety benefit to neon posters – they work like roadside reflectors, making it easier for motorists to stay on the road. With my road signs, I would employ these objectives, but it was more important to be outrageous, bold, and silly – to provoke and confuse some folks, and to delight and entertain those that were in on the joke.
I had my multi-chromatic designs printed and laminated, thanks to a friendly connection at a print shop. Next, I married them with a bounty of craft store swag and created some bizarre three-dimensional conversation pieces – roadside attractions that reflected my street art sensibility and goofball humor. “Wait till the passers-by get a load of these!”, I exclaimed to myself. I was proud and excited for people to see them, though a bit apprehensive of having to install them publicly. It is, after all, an odd and precarious thing to be seen doing. Come to think of it, I always think every pedestrian looks peculiar and suspicious. So for a few minutes, I was that strange man on the side of the road, where I don’t belong, hammering a bizarre object into the ground. It was a good day. But the next day, my signs were gone.
It appeared as if my displays had been savagely and unjustly plucked from the land I shared with hundreds of other taxpayers. I was symbiotically robbed of a platform as Spring Hill was robbed of a spectacle. Nevertheless, I would return to the streets with my remaining signs, unfazed by the municipal prejudice. It wasn’t terribly surprising that my signs were removed, but I sort of took it personally. It seemed to say: “In this town, you’re unconventional, therefore you’re unwelcome. Creativity and fun will not be tolerated here.” Or at least, that's how I took, as a sign. A mean sign. Maybe it’d be different if I were a church putting out advertisements for vacation bible study. Either way, I am offering the highest degree of entertainment (or religious edu-tainment) in the area.
But of course the show went on. I performed gratuitously for more than two hours, harmonizing with the steaming of milk and the blending of ice. I don’t know what the justification could’ve been for the removal of my signs, or which boorish yokels performed the graceless task. What I do know is, at the time of this writing, I am the only person in Spring Hill history to furnish Main Street with bold and hilarious signage to promote what was – if I dare say – the coolest musical performance the town will ever see*.
* I am implicitly conceding the reputation of Spring Hill’s coolest concert ever to the 1999 Saturn Homecoming, which featured Hootie & The Blowfish and less interestingly, Tim McGraw and Faith Hill. A unique phenomenon, the event was a celebration of Saturn car owners and the local workers – like a wholesome Bonnaroo, except everyone was getting high off of Clinton-era optimism and American manufacturing. So the accurate Spring Hill concert timeline would be: (1) ’99 Saturn Homecoming, (2) Smooth Sailor at Starbucks, and (3) Nothing that good ever happening again.
