summer

Mark Adamczyk has been dabbling with guitar playing for years. Last year, he decided to get serious. About his guitar playing. “I’m serious,” he is quoted as saying, “about my guitar playing.” So, he put together a bunch of songs, which he is fond of calling his “musical collection of urban prairie plants,” grabbed his guitar, which he is fond of calling “my guitar,” and started playing out this past spring. Everywhere Mark plays, he receives enthusiastic comments. “Mom, that man has a guitar!” “Do you know anything by Santana?” “Are you going to be loud?” “What happened to the gal who used to play here? Is she ill?”

(Actually, the manager of Bill’s Blues Bar in Evanston really did say, “Your music went in my ears and melted in my mind,” which Mark takes to be a compliment.)

All the pieces played by Mark are composed and arranged by, um, Mark. A couple of pieces are arrangements of old, old melodies. (If you recognize any, you get an “A”.) Most of the originals were composed at the pianoforte (French for “keyboard”). Nonetheless, the guitar ends up getting to play the melodies, which is so unfair, but there you are.

Mark is currently begging--er, correction--gigging (French for “begging”) around town, trying to find a venue or two to call home. Someplace where the patrons enjoy musical urban prairie plants with melodies played on a guitar, as unfair as it is. If you have any suggestions of some restaurant or bar or appliance store where Mark might ask to perform, please forward your suggestion to him.

Thanks for reading about the author. Thanks for listening to my stuff. Thanks for just being you.