Malibu Convergence with T.D.

Sometimes, life throws you big lips and you just have to take them.

So, this afternoon, I was at an intimate party at my friend’s house.
Okay, Malibu Mansion. My friend is real low key and by a stroke of chance she became very wealthy and now lives looking out over the Pacific.

By chance, Taylor Dayne was there. Well, because she is a friend of my friend, which I didn’t know.

This is not so surprising in Los Angeles considering at any party, someone or other anywhere could show up. But what was surprising was, my friend decided that I was going to play the piano and Taylor Dayne was going to sing. This seemed like an okay idea to my friend since I’d been drafted into music provider in the past at her little get togethers to positive effect. But what my friend did not really take into account was that when this went down the last time, it was in a room full of middle aged actors of no great distinction who happened to like Billy Joel. But being optimistic, our hostess pressed Taylor and me into a little musical act.

This was not a great pairing. As Taylor sidled down onto the piano stool next to me, I told her I really didn’t know any music past 1980. I was a little nervous but also a little calm since, really, I actually don’t know Taylor Dayne’s music at all. Between her name and her album covers and my general mood in the Eighties, I was not listening to T.D.

But I had a vague feeling she was kind of rocky, bluesy, whatever. I darted into a song or two that I thought would work and she sort of looked at me like I had no beat. Which I don’t. I’m more of a chords and melody kind of medium to slow ballad guy. I can’t turn the piano into a drum. And Taylor, who you could feel definitely has the music in her in a huge way, was of course, way out of my league.

So after some definite failures at trying things like For All We Know by K. Carpenter, This Masquerade, some Stevie Wonder thing, A Case of You by Joni, all songs Taylor picked among my cutting edge offerings, the magic just wasn’t brewing. As soon as we would start into a song, T.D. didn't catch the vibe and so she'd sort of subtly peter out and let the focus be more on her energetic child. Which was actually pretty sweet. So her kid would take the mike and fool around and the unrealized moments would pass.

But the focus in the room was unwavering if not even a bit tense. People wanted to hear T.D. sing. Our hostess was really behind it. And I was the band. I had no idea when I woke up this morning that this would be going down or else I would have gone out and bought some sheet music to one of her hits, right?

Finally, I directly lobbied for You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman in order to get this thing done. And it worked. She sang pretty much the whole song. T.D. was cool enough to give the little party a taste and to hang in there with me until something got some real life in it. She went hard on the song. She has an ass kicking voice. And I banged out backup.

It was absolutely ridiculous. Yet, Taylor Dayne, in her grizzled, lumpy, earthy middle age, was totally chill, cared more about her kid than herself and was happy to put up with my 1970’s Bass and Plunk chord slamming that is the extent of my virtuosity in order to give away a good little piece of herself for the sake of others. This experience reflects one of the balancing marvels of the social contract within the human condition: Our hostess made everyone happy by making everyone just a little bit miserable.

This experience also suggests: You can be Taylor Dayne, but one day, you may just have to sing along with me.