Tradition? I Don´t Need No Stinking New Years Gig

It´s true. Who needs it? Sick of the game, anyways.

The oh-so-fabulous NYE (that means new year´s eve to all you rookies) gig has become a thing of the past, I fear. Used to be that, traditionally, NYE was the golden goose for musicians (amateur hour for everyone else.) As a general rule, one would expect to make about triple of what a normal Saturday night gig would be. Pay the rent in one night, and all.

As a general rule.

That´s changed now. A lot of places are just eliminating live music altogether (thank you, karaoke, Rock Band, and recession.) Other joints are just trying to manipulate, wanting to pay you just a bit more (maybe) in exchange for doing an extra set.

Or two.

Mainly, though, places that will still hire players are offering the standard wage (50 bucks and a chicken sandwich?) Ok, not that bad, but for some, it most certainly is. It may be again for me someday, too. Who knows.

This is my second year in a row for having the night off. Almost unheard of in this biz. Nevertheless, this is the state of affairs in my world.

And I´m not the least bit fazed.

See, I´m Europe. Spain, to be precise. I´ll be staying in Madrid, for the most part, near Anton Martin (a barrio.)

Mui fantastico!

(Just to get it out of the way, the weather is great. I hear that there´s about a foot of snow in Chicago, so I´m very well off. Today in Seville, where I am spending just a few days for New Year´s, it´s about 60.)

I decided, very early in the year, that I´d be in Spain for much of the winter. It was gonna be Jamaica (mon) as usual, but a little bird convinced me that Spain would be the tops, since we were there earlier in the year. So with some planning, saving, and having resigned myself some time ago that New Year´s was not going to pay many bills, like usual, I decided that I´d bag the idea of gigging, come here, hang with some very good friends, and do it as differently as I ever had done.

So that means there´s no having to haul my gear through the snow (did you say 12"?), not having to deal with the horrible driving conditions, and not having to play music that you can chew your steak to (wonder if I´d even get one of those steaks. My gut says nay nay nay.) I´m not gonna have to worry about drunk drivers everywhere, police check points everywhere, and I won´t have to bitch about being underpaid.

What a relief.

Instead, I´ll be having cerveza and tapitas and pescado (?) and jamon.

And then 12 grapes at midnight.

There is a tradition here ¨en España¨ that when the clock strikes 12, you must eat 12 grapes before the end of the chimes (can you imagine an entire country glued to the tv or radio or church bells? Me neither, but I´ll let you know.) This, naturally, will bring you good luck for the rest of the year. If you fail to eat them, then watch out. There may be a surprise visit from ¨el diablo¨(ok, I made that part up. But you never know...)

Now that could be a pretty nice new tradition to start.

Feliz Año Nuevo.

So it goes...

More health care

I received an email from ColorofChange.org. I wanted to share it with you so that you can make a statement to our (non) government that we all need health care.

Especially for your favorite artists and musicians and kids that go without or without enough...

*****

The Senate is closing in on a health care bill with a public health insurance option, a key ingredient of meaningful health care reform.

But conservatives and insurance companies are fighting hard against the public option, so Senate leadership has compromised by including an "opt-out" clause, which would allow individual states to choose not to participate in the program.^[1]

There's a real danger here. In the stimulus fight, we saw Republican governors and legislators refuse federal dollars for political gain. The same thing could happen with health care reform, with everday people in states like Lousiana, Alabama, and South Carolina -- states with large Black, poor, and working-class populations -- left out.^[2]

That's why I've joined ColorOfChange.org's campaign calling on Congress and the White House to make the public option available everywhere. Please join me:

http://www.colorofchange.org/healthcare/?id=2461-1158880

I understand the need for compromise and negotiation, but I also want to make sure that no community gets negotiated away in the process.

Including "opt-out" may be the best way to get a bill through the Senate with a public option--but that won't be the end of the process, and it doesn't mean "opt-out" will be in the final bill. The House still needs to decide exactly what will be in its health care bill. And once both the House and the Senate have passed legislation, they'll have to negotiate with each other, and the White House, to reconcile the differences between the two bills.

That's why we need to make it clear that we're watching and that we will demand a public option that's available in every state. Please join me in sending this message to Congress and the White House, and ask your friends and family to do the same:

http://www.colorofchange.org/healthcare/?id=2461-1158880

Thank you.

References:

1. "So what is the 'opt-out' compromise?" Talking Points Memo, 10-26-2009
http://tinyurl.com/yjffquq

2. "Public option opt out denies help to those who need it most," Fire Dog Lake, 10-8-2009
http://tinyurl.com/yks5sxz

This is getting so tiring.

So it goes...

Rolling Along

For those of you that have been wondering about me (and I'm sure that number is quite large), I'm alive and well and rolling right along.

Like a stone, as one might say.

Autumn always seems to bring a lull with it. Things have certainly slowed down. Guess that's why they call it the fall (whoever "they" are).

The summer, for both the working player and the weekend warrior that undercuts the working player, is and was lively and full of action. Lots of fun was had by yours truly. I had a great deal of work with both the Lonnie Brooks band and the BMR4, as well as the fine Mississippi Heat and Matt Stedman bands. I did a gig with an old pal, Vince Agwada, and another with an even older set of pals (Ron Shanaver, Buzz Kilman, Pat Brennan, "Dangerous" Dave Forte, and the All Bubba Blues Band/Heirs of Moe.)

Neil Young wouldn't have been prouder.

I also did a few clunkers. You know, the gig was average, the band (and the dough) was only average, the venue was average, and the wardrobe was average (if you look like a hack...)

But that was then, and this is now, and there's only looking forward. And even though things drop off a bit right about now, meaning the bread gets lighter in concert with the workload, it's by no means a disaster. Simply an adjustment in lifestyle.

And it is a lifestyle, not just a job.

Which is why it kills me that some of these younger cats out there can be so shortsighted. As you have by now surmised, I recently did a gig with a young bass player (always with the bass players.)

Green as a frog.

To again quote the late, great L.C. Walker (it's becoming routine these days, it would seem): "Let me elucidate."

You gotta do what you gotta do, and I understand that. But if you're gonna go ahead and take that $50 or $75 gig (yeah, I hate it too, but sometimes...,) the first thing to remember is that it's not really a good idea to bitch about it while you're on the gig. Nobody wants to hear it. Not the other guys in the band (they're getting screwed too, don't forget,) not the band leader, and certainly not the boss at the gig (even though he knows he's screwing you.)

Complaining will only give you a bad reputation in your young professional life. And since I am looking over at the kiddie table, remember that you don't exactly have one yet. We all deserve to make more, but we took the gig and that's that. If you really don't dig it, then don't do it (and believe me, I've turned down as many cheap-o gigs as I've taken.)

I know you think you're Jaco (who?), but, um, you're not. Maybe someday though.

Doesn't really matter if you're perceived as a whiner right out of the gate.

It's easy to find someone who'll do that $75 hit for 50, know what I mean?

The other thing you shouldn't do is spend half or more of your dough at the bar. It's not the smartest thing to be doing, don'tcha think? I mean, if you're complaining that the money's low, and you deserve this and that and such and such and your rent is due Monday and you gotta pay your over charges on your phone bill, then it's probably not a good idea to just give your paltry salary back to the boss.

Like I said, he knows.

As for me, I just roll along. Taking the good with the bad. Keeping my complaints close to the vest. Staying in the good graces of band leaders for the side work that fills in some of my blank spaces (which means I've got dates to fill. Don't be shy in calling.)

So it goes...

Rules of Conduct

In the midst of all of the public bickering going on these days, something very significant actually happened.

Kanye dissed Taylor (cue the groan from the peanut gallery.)

I know, it's shocking, what with the relevance of the prestigious VMA's.

Now, what's important here is not how you feel about the so-called Captain K. Is he a jerk? Is he a hero? Is he tellin' it like it is? Keeping it real?

(Will he go to rehab within the next month? Boost the sagging CD sales? Remember, you heard it here first.)

Rather, what is important is the fact that he didn't act like a pro. He certainly gets paid like a pro (unlike yours truly.) So he should act like one.

There are a lot of "rules" that need to be followed when your a pro musician. All of them seem pretty obvious, but the mentality of the typical musician never ceases to amaze me. They're simple, really.

You gotta do things like show up and be ready to play on time (which means you're not walking through the door to set up 10 minutes before the hit- are you listening, guitar players?) You need to have professional gear that is actually in working order (still looking at you, guitar players.) Your gear includes chords, cables, power strips, extra strings and 9 volt batteries. Oh, yeah, and an amp, too.

And a guitar strap.

(I was on a gig once where the guitar man forgot his guitar- huh?)

Other responsibilities include having to dress appropriately, even if it is a jeans and t-shirt gig. Bands should have a look, even if it's the dirty, grungy, uncaring look. So make sure that you're part of it. You should also stay (relatively) sober. You were hired to do a job, so make sure you are still able to perform.

"A man should know his limitations."- L.C. Walker

Finally, you are not supposed to fight with your band mates (co-workers) while you are on the stage. If there is some point of contention going on, save it for the back room. Not only do you make a fool of yourself, but you give all of your colleagues a bad name, you embarrass them, and chances are that you're not going to get called again to work with so-and-so.

These are our rules of decorum.

Hmmm. Sounds like just about anybody's job requirements, no? You would almost certainly be fired for berating your boss in front of your co-workers

Which brings us to Rep. Joe Wilson (R.-S.C.)

South Carolina, by the way, still flies the Stars and Bars atop the statehouse. Nice.

Is he a hero or a jerk? Remember, it's not what he said, but where he said it (and before you start yapping and getting off-topic, all of our so-called leaders lie.)

The rules of decorum in the House of Representatives are very clear:

As stated in section 370 of the House Rules and Manual, it has been held that a member could not:

• call the President a “liar.”
• call the President a “hypocrite.”
• describe the President’s veto of a bill as “cowardly.”
• charge that the President has been “intellectually dishonest.”
• refer to the President as “giving aid and comfort to the enemy.”
• refer to alleged “sexual misconduct on the President’s part.”

If you still think he's a hero, then I feel for you.

So it goes...

************************************************************************************
photo credit: Jason DeCrow/AP

The Bubbas and the Blues

This past weekend I had a bit of a musical reunion.

Old friends*...

Buzz Kilman and the All Bubba Blues Band. The 25th anniversary show at the soon-to-be-famous Good Old Days Festival in beautiful Winfield, Il.

Ok, so I wasn't in the band 25 years ago. Come to think of it, I wasn't even in high school yet. I started playing with the band around '93 or '94 until the end of their run, 4 or 5 years later. Basically, it was the first "high profile" gig that I had ever had.

Now, when I say high profile, I'm not talking about working with such industry greats like Kanye West and Taylor Swift. If only.

Buzz was the star. The draw. The name.

The reason why the checks were very, very good.

He was a radio jock in Chicago, working as the right hand man to Jonathan (Johnny B.) Brandmeier. This was in the early '80's. Johnny B. was one of the original "shock jocks" (Howard Stern wishes he was that cool) of radio, taking a page from the ultra-original Steve "Disco Demolition" Dahl playbook. He was a character. Wacky. Zany. Goofy. Silly. Didn't need to have strippers or tell fart jokes while on the air.

Johnny B. was that good, and hugely popular. Buzz was hugely popular, too, as a result.

Buzz plays harp (harmonica) and tends to favor the style of Sonny Boy Williamson. He knows the history of the music, and has a pretty large repertoire.

The band leader was Ron Shanaver. He plays guitar and sings.

...sat on their park bench like bookends*...

Ron and I go all the way back to 1989. We met at the Wise Fool's Pub, when it was one of the best blues clubs in Chicago. He was running the Tuesday night blues jam, using the Bubba band as the house band. He also managed the club. I was playing with the late, great L.C. Walker on Sundays. Even though I was 18, and underage, and just getting into the game, Ron let me hang at the club anytime.

Most likely because I brought a lot of friends on Sundays, typically a dead night for taverns. The bar usually had a good ring when I was playing. Sure, my friends were mostly underage too, but no matter. It was the '80's, when fun was still had without much guilt involved.

To make a long story short (and believe me, it's a very long story, the entire historical recollection and all) Ron and I developed an actual friendship (most of us musicians are more colleagues than friends, truth be told.) And when the drum chair became available (the previous drummer, though exceptional, was constantly late, which got him fired- hint, hint young playas,) Ron gave me the gig.

Like I said, that was around '93/'94. So the 25th anniversary show was only 15 years for me. Nevertheless.

...can you imagine us years from today*...

The show came in 2 parts. For the first hour, the Heirs of Moe performed. The Heirs is simply the Bubbas, sans Buzz. Ron had gotten the Heirs going during the waning days of the Bubbas, getting us extra work to keep our calendars full, without having to secure the money Buzz commanded. We didn't do a ton of gigs as the Heirs, but enough to get by. We played rock and roll: Blind Faith, Green Day, the Troggs, Leonard Cohen, Los Lobos, Bob Dylan, and a bunch of Neil Young tunes (Almost Cut My Hair, Ohio, Keep on Rockin' in the Free World.)

We had a blast playing those songs together, again. Ron, myself, and the bass player, "Dangerous" Dave Forte, had a couple of rehearsals, before the gig, in my kitchen. Good thing, too.

"How does that go again?" "What key is this in?" "Are you sure?"

These guys are all really good musicians, though, so we got our "sh-tuff" together quickly and efficiently, as we always had done. Never a worry (well, Dave worried, but that's just his m.o. It's not his fault.)

After the Heirs set, we morphed into the Bubbas. Buzz came up onstage, and it was deja-vu all over again. All of the songs came back like they had never left: Rainin' in My Heart, Walkin' the Dog, Walkin' Blues, Can't Sing the Blues in an Air-Conditioned Room, et al. We even did a coupla "new" ones like Dylan's Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat and Rainy Day Women #12 and #35 as if they were part of the previously regular repertoire.

The show was very, very good. The crowd was even better, giving us a call for a second encore (which, incidentally, Winfield's finest would not let us do. Hey, I wouldn't be me if I didn't rip on something, right?) Everybody had a good time. Personally, it was one of my favorite gigs of the year so far. I miss playing with those guys.

...how incredibly strange*...

So it goes...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Old Friends, lyrics by Paul Simon

Rock Band Rebels and Barry O.

I've been listening to non-stop radio coverage about President Obama's planned, televised, speech next week. The day after Labor Day, in fact. He is going to be addressing school kids directly about that hot-button, partisan tainted, politically motivated issue:

The importance of education.

I know. I know. It's a polarizing topic (it is now, anyways.) After all, it's common knowledge, at this point, that the U.S. lags far (and sadly) behind most Western (capitalist) nations in terms of the quality of education.

Education is supposedly very important to Americans. Didn't our last president at least appear to try not to leave any children behind? I mean, he was in a classroom on 9/11. Of all places.

The importance of education, for those of you snoozing through the second paragraph.

So here's the short end of it. As I said, the President of the United States is going to make a speech on t.v. touting the importance of education. This speech is supposed to be aimed directly at students, during school hours.

Not surprisingly, schools across the nation will be showing it for the students. It seems kinda appropriate. You know, kids in school get to hear a speech from a sitting U.S president. An educational experience, no?

Allegedly, he'll be speaking of becoming smarter, more creative (gasp), and setting goals for yourself to become the best person you can be. Something to that effect, anyways.

Hardly a political ploy to advance any personal agendas. Propaganda? Sure, I guess. Although, any time a leader of anything opens his/her mouth about anything, I suppose that could be construed as propaganda.

Ahem.

Anyhoo, because of these planned words of wisdom and encouragement, parents are...what?

You guessed it: outraged.

The particular 50,000 watt blowhorn I'm listening to is citing Dallas, TX as a place where parents are expressing their outrage so strongly that schools are now making watching the speech optional, extending all the way to the teachers. A political speech in disguise, to be sure.

Optional for all. God bless Texas and the power of outrage.

In a country that is increasingly trying to legislate every. single. movement. that. we. make. or. think. about. making, I guess that we should just add this to the list. We now want our education to be clean and happy and sanitized. No harmful words or views or opinions will filter through our children's obviously under-developed (but well protected by the mandatory helmet) brains. Junior won't have to hear about real things about the real world from real people. We'll add to our shelter of protection for our little guy. Don't worry, little Billy or Sally, the nanny will protect you. Mommy's gotta run now to close that big real estate deal in the new, exclusive, gated community tucked away from the immigrants, the uninsured, and the, gulp, criminals (wink, wink) that don't have jobs and get Link cards while I work hard for my 97" plasma.

Now grab a juice box and go and watch your Lucky Charms commercial, you little fat ass. Maybe play a friendly game of World of Warcraft with your imaginary online friends afterwards.

And then maybe a little Rock Band.

After all, if you were in an actual rock band, the poor education you're receiving won't exactly give you inspiration (or fodder) to play or write anything interesting, and why would you want to be a musician anyways?

There's no money in that.

So it goes...

A Healthy Industry

What do you do for a living?

Doctor? Lawyer? Banker? Car Salesman?

CEO of a major pharmaceutical company?

It doesn't really matter.

Not really.

As you know, faithful readers, I am a musician, and these pages are dedicated to the life and lifestyle of the working musician. I write about the positive and the negative aspects of my occupation; the trials and tribulations; righteous treatment and minor indignities.

The good, the bad, and the ugly (cue the music.)

However, just like the majority of you all (from what I've observed, anyways,) the main thing on my mind these days is health care and how to overhaul this shaky-at-best industry. Hence the lag time since my last diatribe of demonstrative drivel.

I haven't had the heart or the muse by my side to say anything. It all seemed irrelevant.

Now, I don't want to bore you with the gory details of the 1000-plus page health care reform bill that is sitting at the crossroads of America's future. You can read it yourself if you want (hey,you'd have a leg up over virtually all of our so-called (non) representatives in government- kudos to you and your tenacity.)

Better brew a few pots o' joe. It's gonna take a while.

My intention here is not to convince you of anything within the bill. Personally, I'm in favor of "Death Panels". I think it makes life just a bit more spicy.

(For those of you who can't seem to find your sense of humor, that was a joke.)

Rather, as a living instrument of providing pleasure, entertainment, and a general diversion from your everyday worries and concerns, my purpose is to remind you that we are all in this together and nobody, I mean NOBODY, is better than anyone else.

Something that I've been hearing a lot of, lately, is the fact that some people think that what they do in life holds a level of importance that is higher than other peoples' paths. I assume you've been noticing it too.

Productivity.

"I do such and such and I've been doing it for so many years, and I work hard, and why should so and so deserve what I have because so and so only does such and such and that's hardly fair."

The American mantra. Our, gasp, religion if you will. Money money money. The solver of problems and the root of all evil. The purveyor of flat-screen t.v.'s and thirst quencher for the taxman.

The bounty that gave you "Cash for Clunkers". How cute. I love the pet names we give things. Right up there with the "Passenger's Bill of Rights".

So who's more "productive"? Better yet, who's worthy? That seems to be the question. Is it the brain surgeon? The Wall Street exec.? The garbage man? The gremlin who spends the day writing parking tickets?

Maybe it's the web designer. Or the librarian. Or the taxicab driver.

Or the person who volunteers at the food pantry.

Seems to me that they are all valuable in one way or another. They all do their job, presumably well, and they live their lives.

This certainly holds true with me. I'm a highly trained, highly skilled specialist. Sure, I can't repair your frontal lobe (nor would you want me to), but you probably can't play a shuffle worthy of the price of admission (which is becoming free in more and more places.) Sounds trivial? Sure, on some level, I suppose, but it's a valid point. I've worked long and hard to be able to do what I do. I do it at a high level, and that cannot be trivialized.

My point is that we should all be able to go to the doctor (or dentist or shrink or marriage counselor.) There are too many resources in our once-great country for anybody to be left behind (another cute title; another bureaucratic failure.)

None of us should have to be concerned about life-long bankruptcy should something bad happen to us. None of us should be concerned that we had a cold once as a child and now, as an adult, we have pneumonia and it's suddenly a pre-existing condition.

There should be no fear of getting sick because of the cost (you're scared enough, now that your coughing blood.) The premise is un-Christian, un-Jewish, un-Muslim, un-Buddhist, and unkind. This kind of attitude will inevitably lead to people just dying in the streets. You think I'm kidding? This is where we're headed. Who lives and who dies? There will be no "Death Panels" deciding fates like this. It will be your senators, congressmen, governors, and presidents deciding these things.

Indirectly, of course, but that will be the result nonetheless.

And then there will be a revolution, violent and ugly. It most certainly WILL be televised too.

The only solution to all of this, of course, is to eliminate the pairing of "health" with "industry". Our health is not a commodity to be bought and sold. It certainly is not to be compromised for the benefit of someones profit. That's a conflict of interest. The rub, if you will. If the "industry" is concerned about turning a profit above all else, then your health, and your health care, is compromised. It doesn't matter what the wording of the bill or law is. If profit comes first, then you and your family do not.

Period.

So the single-payer, government run system is the only choice we have. We cannot, in good conscience, "reward" and "penalize" people based on their so-called contributions to society. Everyone is different, we all make different choices. The American way (allegedly) urges us to do our best and be our best. We teach our children that "if you put your mind to it, you can do anything and be anything you want to be."

Life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and all that.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- Follow up Calls

Hello? Hello?

Did you hear that? Of course you didn't.

'Cause you didn't call me back.

One of the most annoying things that we musicians deal with is the lack of having our calls returned. Club owners, festival owners, wedding planners, etc., are regularly guilty of not calling you when they say they will. Even though their event is the largest thing going on in their worlds ("I've just been so crazy busy getting ready for the such and such event and I've only got 37 weeks left!) they, by and large, are not reachable by phone to take care of their own business.

Their own interests.

It's in our own interests, too, of course. We like to have dates secure in our calendar.

That translates to cash secure in our pocket.

Theirs too, presumably.

That being said, can anyone please tell me why, oh why, musicians would do that to other musicians?

As an aside, and obviously with some exceptions (a couple guys come to mind as of late, and you are hereby exempt from this rant. I'm happy to do that for you,) if you want to give me a gig, then give me a gig. Don't call to see if I'm available on that particular date and then tell me you'll get back to me because of some (irrelevant) extenuating circumstance.

I'm on the phone with you right now. Let's just take care of it. You needed someone and you called me. There must have been a reason for that, right?

Right.

If you must call me back, though (and I'm still willing to be available, hint hint,) then please do it. It was bad enough you had to waste your own time, for several days probably, getting the gig in the first place (incidentally, you still need a drummer.) Your fresh off of that particular minor indignity, so don't pass it along. Call me when you say you will, don't make me chase you down (it's your gig, remember? You should be so lucky that I'm the kind of guy that would stay on top of your affairs for my own interests.)

It's bad karma, and doesn't motivate me to spend a whole lot of time learning your tunes.

So it goes...

Where Do We Go From Here?

Over the weekend I did 3, count 'em, 3 big shows.

Not shoes, as (rock royalty) Ed Sullivan would have said.

I had 3 gigs and it was nice. The venues were pretty cool, the guys (and gals) I worked with were nice, and the insurance and utility companies have been satisfied for yet another month (do they work as hard? I wonder.)

There was, however, something missing that I couldn't quite place. An odd feeling, really. But then it hit me, after reading a letter from a club owner that is now out of business. His take on the industry was right on, and I found myself reflecting on my own life as a pro.

The first gig of the weekend was just a restaurant gig, a money gig.

A boring gig.

We need these, let's face it.

I did a duo show with a piano player. This particular venue used to employ quartets. Then trios, and now they've downsized to duos. Plus you have to pay for parking (downtown, ouch) and there is no drink deal for the musicians (not that it's absolutely necessary to drink at work. Or is it?) So really, the money gig was not that much money (although it was good enough, as they say, whoever they are.)

At least the gig still exists, although I wonder why, considering how oblivious the audience was (mostly) to us. Now I know that the people are there for dinner and drinks and trying to get some and all, but, tell me, how can you just ignore someone standing in front of you jumping up and down waving their arms in a frenzy. Even if you're not interested, you must know we're there, right?

Maybe not.

There was a woman sitting at a front table, eating dinner, reading a book, and actually listening to her I-pod while we were playing.

No kidding.

The next night was at a club. A large and well-known music club, at that. Capacity for the joint was around 250 patrons, but only about 100 showed up. One could blame the weather (it was beautiful) or the multitude of free things going on in the city, like Venetian Night, or the Lincoln Fest, or the Wicker Park fest, or whatever.

The size of the crowd was irrelevant, though. Rather, it was their attitude which was nothing short of blase. Sure, all in all a good time was had by all, and the show was very good and everything. But the people seemed very... I don't really know what they seemed like. But I had the feeling that they would have been just as happy sitting with a drink and listening to the radio.

Of course, there's nothing wrong with that, but at 15 bucks a pop...at least it's cheaper than a Jonas Brothers concert. Wanna know how they justify their costs?

Finally, I capped the weekend with an outdoor performance at a suburban village town hall. It was a beautiful venue, with tall trees, lush grass, and thousands of fairy lights all around, giving off an abundance of soft, pleasing illumination. People came out to see us, several hundred strong, with picnic baskets, lawn chairs, and libations in tow. Finally, a seemingly attentive, and therefore attractive, audience.

Hooray. Incentive to give a good show. I was ready for some real action.

The sound guys were terrible, though. Their incompetence was nothing compared to their nonchalant attitude towards actually getting the sound right. It was almost like they were phoning it in.

Buzz kill.

So now you've made it this far, and you're probably thinking, "But what about this letter you mentioned earlier?"

Glad you asked.

I was feeling down about the events of the weekend, and this guy just made things very clear to me. Here are a few samples:

"Dear Friends:

Ever since the creation of the (club), it was my sole intention to do nothing more, or less, than present the finest contemporary artists in this country, on the best stages and in the most pleasant halls.

The scene has changed and, in the long run, we are all to one degree or another at fault. All that I know is that what exists now is not what we started with, and what I see around me now does not seem to be a logical, creative extension of that beginning. Therefore, I am taking this opportunity to announce the closing of the (club), and my eventual withdrawal from producing concerts."

You can see why this caught my eye. He continues with his reasons for closing down:

"1) The unreasonable and totally destructive inflation of the live concert scene. Two years ago... I associated with and employed "musicians." Now, more often than not, its with "officers and stockholders" in large corporations - only they happen to have long hair and play guitars. I acknowledge their success, but condemn what that success has done to some of them. I continue to deplore the exploitation of the gigantic-hall concerts, many of them with high-priced tickets. The sole incentive of too many has simply become money. The conditions for such performances, besides lacking intimacy, are professionally impossible according to my standards.

2) I had always hoped to be able to present artists whose musical worth I felt was important: artists whose music was valid, whether commercially popular or not. There are more quality artists today; but many of those that do exist do not appear in public regularly. Therefore, in order to stay in business, I would be forced to present acts whose musicality fell below my personal expectations and demands. I could do this, and in having to book fifty-two weeks a year it becomes tempting because it is so much easier to do. Thousands might even to come to these concerts, but I personally would prefer not to present them. For who would gain?

3) With all due respect for the role they play in securing work for the artists, the agents have created a new rock game called "packaging"; which means simply that if the (club) wants a major headliner, then we are often forced to take the second and/or third act that the agent or manager insists upon, whether or not we would take pride in presenting them, and whether or not such an act even belongs on that particular show. To do so would be to relinquish the essential responsibility of being a producer, and this I will not do.

4) In the early days of (the club), the level of audience seemed much higher in terms of musical sophistication. Now there are too many screams for "More" with total disregard for whether or not there was any musical quality.

I sincerely thank the artists and business associates who contributed to our success. But, I warn the public to watch carefully for what the future will bring.

The rock scene in this country was created by a need felt by the people, expressed by the musicians, and, I hope, aided to some degree by the efforts of the (club). But whatever has become of that scene, wherever it turned into the music industry of festivals, 20,000-seat halls, miserable production quality, and second-rate promoters - however it went wrong - please, each of you, stop and think whether or not you allowed it, whether or not you supported it regardless of how little you received in return.

I am not pleased with this "music industry." I am disappointed with many of the musicians working in it, and I am shocked at the nature of the millions of people who support that "industry" without asking why. I am not assured that the situation will improve in the future."

So where DO we go from here? If any of you have something to contribute, please share it. I, for one, want to know what happened.

This letter, by the way, was written by Bill Graham in 1971, and published in the Village Voice on May 6th of that same year. The "(club)" was, of course, the Filmore, East and West.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series: Get a Contract

I had a corporate gig tonight at one of the museums in the city. Those are pretty sweet gigs: usually only a few hours, you get fed, and the pay is (generally) very good.

Having weekday work is nice too. Especially private weekday work.

Unfortunately, for the client, there was rain.

Heavy rain.

A tree was ripped from the ground, roots and all.

No joke.

As I said, it was unfortunate for the client. Not for us though. Why is that, you ask? Because we had a contract. And the contract said that payment in full is expected rain or shine.

That's the chance you (meaning the client/promoter/party planner) take when you want live music outside. And if there is not adequate cover or protection (water and electricity just don't mix), well then the show's over.

There were no problems or hurt feelings.

I know, I know. It sounds simple. Even mundane. A no brainer.

Yet there are too many cats out there that aren't taking the time to bother, for whatever reasons.

Protect yourself and, more importantly, your gear. Don't be afraid to broach the subject.

Nothing personal. Nothing malicious.

Just the price of doing business.

So it goes...

The Weirdo Club

I've been stuck trying to think about what to write, as my faithful (hopefully) readers are champing at the bit for something new, brilliant, witty, and utterly me.

So many things, and yet nothing at all.

Kinda weird.

Yet, that's what makes musicians (and writers and actors and other artists) who and what we are.

Above everything else, we're weirdos.

Societal misfits.

Not exactly cut from the same cloth as so many people seemingly are. We'd never make it in the 9-5, 2 weeks a year off, grind like most folks do.

Of course, we give up things like health care and home ownership in the process, but so be it. To us (to me, anyways) it's sort of a fair trade. We get to do what we do (and let's face it, I don't know what you do to get by, but I'm sure you do it better than anyone else) and that's that.

Sometimes, though, the work involved in being a musician (artist, et al) actually makes me kinda lazy. Right now, I have a lot to do, a lot to be done, and yet I feel very inclined to do none of it.

Things like sending emails to festival coordinators. Reminders to "fans" that there are shows coming up. Adding people to various "lists".

Practicing (ahem.)

It's so easy to NOT practice. Jeez.

A luxury and a curse, being among the self/un-employed.

Weirdos are we.

At least we're in good company though. David Bowie is certainly a weirdo. Ditto for Jackson Pollock. James Brown, too.

Michael Jackson was definitely a weirdo.

Bob Dylan has created an entire genre of music. It's not rock, it's not blues, it's not folk. He was given a Pulitzer Prize in a category created just for him because he didn't fit in any single category, and if anyone deserves to "win" a Pulitzer, it's Dylan.

Weirdo.

So where am I going with this?

Oh, yeah. What to do with the time in my struggle for blogging ideas. Well, it's very simple. Since we are the lowest paid of public servants (of course we are, in the truest sense), I suggest that we all make our own salad dressing. I saw an article (an entire article! Can you friggin' believe it?) in today's Sun-Times espousing the virtues of DIY salad dressing. It actually saves you a lot of bread. I encourage you to do it. I've been doing it for years.

Did he just give advice about salad dressing?

Weirdo.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- Health Care

Most musicians, as you know (since my audience seems to be primarily musicians) have very poor, if any, health insurance. For those of us who have seemingly good (enough) fortune, myself included, to be able to buy insurance, well, I guess we're "lucky".

Kinda like the politicians that are making the tough decisions for us: Lucky.

Lucky to have a job at all, that is, since something like 50% (give or take) of the populace doesn't seem to bother to vote. (I used to not understand that at all, but when the betrayal from our so-called-leaders is so rampant, the notion just seems that much less unfathomable.)

These chuckleheads have the nerve to tout the greatest health care in the world here in the trusty U.S. of A, where freedom and civil rights are fleeting more and more with each passing day (weapons check points at the Taste (Waste) of Chicago anyone?)

"A single payer system will be a disaster," is what we are being told.

Try telling that to the 45 million or so Americans that have no coverage (and no, being able to go to the E.R. at County, excuse me, Stroger Hospital, does not count as sufficient.)

That being said, any pol who votes against any real health care reform should be forced to give up their own, precious, single payer, socialist-by-design health policy and be forced to fend for themselves: buy your own policy, and be taxed on it (that's right, since I pay myself, the money used to pay the bill is after-tax dough.)

The best health care in the world carries no meaning if the majority of the population can't access it.

So it goes...