Saturday Night With The Bridget Kelly Band In Fort Myers

I don't know what enzyme makes me want to get up on my soap box after seeing a show. I mean, they are just a basic four piece blues band. A sultry female lead singer, a guitarist who could be a major league superstar. A funky rhythm section that is in the pocket all night long. I'm in this place called the Barrel Room. Small. Respectable. Clean. The clientele, many overdressed waterfront dwellers. So much talent in the room, yet so little understanding of it. The live music scene still is the place to witness dues paying musicians who all come with built in humility. I'm not saying the Bridget Kelly Band is the world's greatest blues rock band. But in a slightly altered dimension, where the music industry hadn't destroyed itself, this is the kind of music that could fill in where the old rock dinosaurs left off.

Of course this would require some kind of support system beyond paid radio and indie blues radio shows. A schmuck in his '98 Buick Century should be able to hear this music on the radio that came with his car. A radio station or network of stations would have to spring up across the country. Much like the way Christian stations have sprung up and taken over signals all over the northern hemisphere. And maybe the blues rock channels could be about music and charity, much like the way Bridget and her band give money away selling t-shirts to help eliminate or at least understand autism. As a former disc jockey, something has to give. This generational slide into the abyss began over 25 years ago and with the advent of technology, the music is all sounding like it was hatched in an electronic petri dish.

Watching lead guitarist Tim Fik (who is 60 something years old) jump around the stage and play like any great guitarist (if not better than) I've ever seen, makes me think this will be just our little secret. The neanderthals are out at the local dive bar, enjoying the lost art of music.

For this band, and many like them around the world, they pursue a dream that is no longer a plausible endgame. How can you now become famous wailing on a guitar or singing live a dove? You can't. So you pile your instruments onto a stage in a small, intimate place where a couple dozen or so folks commune for a few hours, guzzling beer or sipping on whiskey. Fame is no longer the prize. The business itself doesn't recognize what they are doing. It's up to fans like you and I to keep the torch burning. That means spending real money on downloads, CD's and other band stuff. It means organizing music outlets, preferably over the air radio stations.

I had a great night listening to a band many ignored as they walked the balmy streets of Fort Myers as the music they played filled the air. The blissfully ignorant don't know they need this music. Most really don't understand it. The entire thing has been systematically deconstructed. Radio playlists reduced to mindless repetition. Chances forsaken because of the relentless focus testing and ad friendly content. Money. The new paradigm controls the purse. And there is no money to be made promoting middle aged musicians who play circles (or just play) around the computer whizzes.

Will there be a comeback? Doubtful. The underground has room for growth but to get converts there must be exposure. And until someone shows up with deep pockets, radio will continue to die. My prayer is that people will once again be inspired by a crazy good guitar player and a sultry lead singer who together create some wonderful rockin' blues.