Christmas Ship Parade of Lights
In December each year, a somewhat organized group of boaters decorates their boats with string lights and then parades up and down the Willamette River after dark along Portland’s waterfront several evenings a week. I was in a jazz trio that was hired to play for a birthday party on a boat that was going to join the flotilla for an evening. We had been assured that the band would be inside on the boat, and as we had already done a few “boat gigs” in the past, we knew the load-in would be fun, but the gig paid well, and the idea of being out on the water with the “Christmas Ships” sounded like too much fun to turn down.
It was above freezing, and the river was moving fast and was full from days of rain. The trek from the underground parking garage to the dock was well lit and longer than I was used to carrying my gear, but I just kept telling myself it was a good workout. The dock was also well lit and we passed each case of our instruments, one by one, onto the boat. The boat was smaller than anything we had ever played on, but we figured that it must be bigger on the inside, so we loaded everything aboard and the boat pulled away from the dock to go to another location to pick up the guests for this nighttime adventure.
The host showed us through the cabin to the covered seating area in the stern while pointing to a tiny electric heater that would somehow warm up this vinyl enclosure. After much discussion, the vibraphone was assembled inside the covered outdoor space, and it fit. If positioned right across the portal/door to the cabin, there was nearly enough height for our 6’2” vibes player to stand. With some clever shifting of things, I got a snare, high-hat, and cymbal next to the vibes. Do to the humidity, and space, the acoustic bass and 6’6” bass player would be set up in the cabin with the guests. We put mics on the vibes and sent their sound to an amp in the cabin.
We had worn suits to the gig, but it was too cold in the back, and unlit, so the vibes player and I kept our coats on. The only light was from the lights on the outside of the boat, and the coils in the heater. The boat picked up the guests as it started to rain and we headed on out into the dark.
The boat headed upriver, against the current, and the vibes player and I suddenly realized that we were set up right over the engine of the boat, and we could hardly hear each other, much less the bass amp from within the cabin. A decision was made that vibes and drums would just start playing a tune, and the bass could join us as soon as he caught on to what we were doing. He could hear us, even though none of us could hear him over the engine.
The temperature in the cabin got into the high 70s, so our poor bass player was melting in his coat and tie. Out back, with the overflow heat from the cabin, it was in the low 50s. Heating our little vinyl enclosure caused condensation to form on the walls, and we could see it dripping down the foggy plastic windows. Before too long, it started raining inside from the buildup of condensation.
Fortunately, the guests were good about passing libations out to us as we played into the night, in our tiny, dark, exhaust-fumed enclosure over the roaring engine. Oddly, I’ve never accepted a “Christmas Ship” gig since that one.