Oldies But Goodies: Playing the Senior Circuit
Some musicians pooh-pooh the idea of playing for older people; like it’s unhip compared to, say, a room full of drunks screaming for “Free Bird” or something. I’ve been doing it for 16 years, and consider it more than fine.
I’ll admit, I myself fell into it sort of by accident. My wife, daughter and I used to bring our Samoyed Otis to a local nursing home as a therapy dog. Sometimes I saw a guy who looked the age of Mozart’s cousin tinkering on a piano for any resident who would listen—and several did. Since the holidays were approaching, I offered the facility a free family Christmas concert. We arrived decked in red, white and green; and all was merry and bright-- for about three minutes.
When my first song ended, Otis, who was never shy about working a crowd (wonder where he learned that?) believed that naturally all the applause was for him, and he needed to bark incessantly in response. Second song, worse than the first; and he was quickly hauled to the hall by my wife. Though Otis went on to become a catalog model and celebrity canine in St. Pat’s and Independence Day parades, his gigging career was toast.
But there was a silver lining. After the show, a woman visiting from another senior place asked if I might perform at hers, sweetening the offer with those magic words, “we have an entertainment budget.” I’ve since played for seniors hundreds of times at dozens of venues in four states. Not at the expense of other types of gigs, but as a satisfying, lucrative supplement to the scramble we all go through trying to raise the term “working musician” above an oxymoron, like “jumbo shrimp” or “military intelligence”.
Here are some reasons that, unless you’re poundinf death metal or something, you should check out the senior circuit:
It’s profitable (now that I have your attention…): First off, I am strictly a soloist these days, no matter where I play. I make roughly as much from my average senior show as anywhere else (minus tips from some public gigs). I do know some brethren who play the oldies circuit as duos, even bands, but you’ll almost always haver to split the same fee they pay a soloist. But I also know other folks in bands who play the oldies circuit solo as a sideline.
It’s easy: Senior shows are usually an hour; shorter than almost all other gigs I play. If timed correctly, I can squeeze in three in a day. Or, I can play one senior gig during the day, and still have juice for a longer gig later.
It’s convenient: Most of my senior shows are on weekdays, during morning/ afternoon hours. And most of my public gigs are on weekends, or weekday evenings. What a happy coincidence.
It’s fun: I have a standing rule for any gig: If I don’t like a song, I won’t play it; no matter how much you beg. Case in point: I play a popular all-Celtic show for seniors many times around St. Pat’s, and they invariably request “Danny Boy”. I have neither the high tenor nor the stomach for it, so the answer is always no. But I wrote a funny song called “I Won’t Sing Danny Boy”, which goes over far better. Since I offer 14 different themed programs for seniors, I really scramble it up across genres. I could be warbling country gospel one day and Beatles the next. Usually, I manage to work in an original or two that complements the overall theme of the show. I’ve never been bored.
It’s feel-good: I’ve saved the best for last. Playing places like these, you will never feel better about being a musician. Many seniors have issues that prevent them from just picking up and heading for a bar; even if they indeed wanted to at “their age”. Bring the music to them at a community center or healthcare facility, and they will treat you like the tone god/goddess of your fantasies. One octogenarian at a frequent stop recently gushed that her two favorite singers in the world are me and Elvis. At a Christmas show somewhere else, a very aged woman was wheeled in, balled tightly in a fetal position. As I led folks through some old holiday favorites, she slowly uncurled and was softly singing along by the end. Moist-eyed staff told meafterwards that the woman had not spoken a word in months. This, my friends, is the difference we can make at our finest.
Perhaps my affinity for entertaining golden-agers stems partially from the fact that each passing year, I look a little more like them than the millennials packing the local watering holes. I joke that at some point, I’ll just saunter off stage and take a seat in the audience. Maybe then, I’ll be the one howling for “Free Bird”!
