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...

Be Happy and Gay- Market Days

The band (BMR4) played Market Days, yesterday.

Boystown, Chicago style.

What a good time! I gotta say, I can't recall a gig where the BMR4 Solid Gold Dancers actually showed up. (There's a reality show in there somewhere.)

The Halsted St. Market Days festival is one of the best in the city. Just like any of the various city festivals throughout the summer, there was a lot of food and music and vendors peddling their wares.

The difference between this particular festival and all of the others is that Market Days draws a truly diverse crowd. Usually, on the North Side, the "mighty whitey" reigns supreme at these summer fetes. Such was the case of an unnamed "retro fest" that was a mere block from the home of yours truly.

That really says something about Chicago. You see, we Chicagoans tend to think that our city is diverse and international.

Except we're not.

Sure, there are representatives from hundreds of other countries and cultures located in Chicago. There are many languages, a lot of interesting food, et al. But as I've pointed out in previous posts, Chicago is still very much a racist city.

At Market Days, though, you'd never know it. You get all kinds of people: gay (the dominating group, natch), straight, black, white, boys, girls, Latino, Asian, Democrats, "greenies", and even the usually-despicable Republicans.

Sure, they're welcome too.

And you know what? Everybody got along swimmingly (likely, the appearance of the Village People played a strong part in the harmonious vibes and good karma.) I didn't see any fights, I didn't notice any thick-necked frat boys being obnoxiously loud and, well, obnoxious. I didn't hear anybody complaining about activities that other festival-goers were indulging in (use your imaginations, you dirty dogs.)

I saw one guy sitting up against a street light and, um, napping. He was covered in dry puke; pretty sure it was his own. So he was obviously sitting there for quite a while.

Nobody hassled him, even (although we all had that, "Poor bastard," thought going through our collective heads, I'm sure.)

Even the police presence was minimal, it seemed (for Chicago standards, anyways.)

Isn't it ironic that the gay population (not only in Chicago, but all over,) an oftentimes persecuted group of people, throws the best parties (if you are of the gay population, I suppose you wouldn't call it ironic. Normal is probably a better word.) I mean, gay people party with reckless abandon. I don't think that any other group can claim that accolade any more. So long as blood is not drawn (unwillingly, anyways,) you can do what you want in the gay community. Nobody cares.

Everyone, seemingly, gets it.

I find it funny, for sure. After all, I'm in the biological white guy club, I just don't subscribe to a lot of "our" propaganda. Rules for having a good time? Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign? Stay within the barbed-wire fenced in area? No smoking here? No drinking there? God forbid there's a little weed floating around. And aren't you just a little too happy? Please, you're an embarrassment.

This has everything to do with my profession of choice. As a musician, I've seen the changes in attitude over the last decade in terms of the people coming out to have a "good time". As a result, I've seen the results of the change in attitudes. When I was a young pup coming up through the ranks, most people still knew how to have a good freak out. Music clubs were full all the time. People came out eagerly (yes, yes, I know that it's always been tough to get people to come to your show) and regularly.

Regularly is the key word, I think.

Do kids even have fake id's anymore, or has everyone become just completely addicted to Guitar Hero instead of actual guitar heroes (or are you just petrified of having "youthful indiscretions" on your "permanent record"?)

Since the regularity factor is taken out of the equation, and since there are so many rules to follow, attendance has taken a steady nose dive. Clubs that were hoppin' are now scaling back, whether it's the money the musicians make, or just the number of days the club has music. A lot of festivals have cut their budgets, cut the number of days (hmmm, the Chicago Blues and Jazz fests come to mind,) or just quit altogether.

Sure, the economy is bad, but the laissez faire attitude of so-called party people is worse.

This is a big and diverse world that we live in. Don't forget how to have fun and be happy and gay. People certainly haven't in Boystown.

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...