Look around as I might, I’ll have to get you a picture from someplace else. Take that back, I have a photo of a few of the 35,000 surplus condos along the Florida Atlantic coast. These puppies will never be sold, there are no people left with enough credit to buy them. Here you can see a few hundred of these units. They are mostly funded by “preconstruction” sales, people who put 10% down (usually around $40,000) who hope the price will climb to $500,000 or more by the time the building is completed. I know two people who lost their family inheritance on these deals, but then, they were born suckers.
The problem is, all of those people have done the same thing at the same time. I was on my way to Bal Harbour when these condos, which I believe are built on land owned by the Trump, caught my attention.Back home, I bumped into the neighbor, Roland. Here is the deal. He understands "about DSL Internet access". The neighbor beside him uses it, but has to go over to the laundry room with his laptop to pick up the local wireless. Roland disconnects his phone every summer and pays the $7 dormancy fee. My proposition is that if he agrees to hook up a DSL modem, I will rig it up to share with four or five users, and manage the finances, plus set him up with a nice Internet-ready computer. Split three ways is a bargain, four would be ideal. In the end, he could not follow the plan. Too complicated, see.
NOON
Weird optical disk movie formats. That will defeat most people. But I finally got around at least one Sony scheme. This is not copyright infringement. Some Sony disks won’t copy even if it is your own material. To be more exact, you have to recopy the disk contents onto your hard drive and then copy that copy. The problem is that the process splits the original into several components. I found the one that counts.
The G and I have a Scrabble/Cribbage match set up for Thursday. He informs me that he cannot leave the state for another to look for work, that is, he must have a job and place ready before he is allowed to leave. Typical Florida stupidity – how can a person find a job and house in another state without traveling there? At least for the interview. Either way, it is a nothing Thursday and keeps him from getting Cabin Fever. I’m reminded to contact Cheryl, the madwoman. Remember her? (Good. By two years later, I can't--but I know her type very well. Always available to tell you what you are doing wrong.)
Well, you see, I’m feeling a little too confident and well-adjusted these days, so I need her keen introspection into what I’m doing wrong. She came to mind because men who don’t worship her are completely going about life the wrong way. I need her to cut me down to size and remind me that I am reneging on my duty to entertain all women, no matter how sexless I may find them. I’ll get back to you on that one.
NIGHT
Thence, Mr. Brian and I chatted. He was incredulous about the G asking to stand in with us. I assured him that is all the G would be doing, and it would be for free at that. While I have no uncertainty that with Brian and I doing chops to a drum box behind the lead, we would be a terrific trio, I scotch that idea. The G has resoundingly failed to meet the requirements to play in an orchestra, he is a solo performer and that makes him semi-automatically unreliable. While he is invited to play, it is on the same basis he formerly extended the same courtesy. I’ll elaborate.
He used to invite other musicians to gig, which means play the four hour set for a cut on the money. Instead, when you showed up at the appointed time, he’s been playing for over an hour already. Sit down and have a beer, which is exactly what he wants – the club owner to think you are part of his following. By the end of the evening, you’ve played maybe five tunes and he “can’t pay you for that”. Sure.
Brian has yet to work practices into his schedule. He will, for he has said the tunes I’ve chosen are excellent and that he realizes he is getting tons of practical information that was lacking in his other musical adventures. My estimate is that half of my energies in a band are not musical and he is picking up on that. It is hard not to dance to what I’ve arranged and that is my point. It is arranged specifically for that. I’m actually waiting for a VHS tape to play out here, so how would you like my personal background in all this? Yes? Read the following addendum, if there is one.
ADDENDUM
As a lad, I referred to gigs as “dances”. My bands (and I literally mean “my”) played dances, not gigs. I early developed a mild dislike for “slow” music and that spilled over to the blues. Blues was listening music, dreadfully slow, to my ears, at least. Even country, which I abhorred was preferable to blues because it was danceable. Over a decade of playing, I noted the errors that other bands made. The basics of my band philosophy could be summed up by referrals not to just how I avoid those mistakes, but how I replaced them with positive elements. Where I can’t play well, I can think well.
Good examples are my “Mostly Music” approach. No more than 90 seconds between songs. Also, the “Patterkey”, where possible, stage announcements are made while the band is comping in the background, usually in the tonic [key]. This casual event is actually very carefully rehearsed. How about the full song medley? Right from one tune into the next without a break when the dance floor is full. I am an expert at playing the bass to make the same drum beat sound different. The G has often expressed amazement at this, usually after failing to find another bass player who can pull it off behind my back. This is based on his presumption that since I can’t play bass to all of his tunes, I must not be able to do anything original.
These techniques create a dancing synergy. I know that it is the wife dragging the husband out for the evening. I also know that he is the one that will leave the smackeroo [twenty dollar tip]. I see him start out the evening determined to do as little as possible, but I’ll get that toe tapping. Then I’ll make him spin around in his chair to make sure he’s really hearing it. (Yes, I have several subtleties to catch interest, such as playing a rolling tenth and pretending I’ve been goosed at the same time, which double gets his attention.) Pretty soon he has to be part of the action. It’s a guy thing. But hey, I can’t start giving you all my trade secrets.
Suffice that I’ll get him up there kicking his heels like he hasn’t in years. I’m not inventing anything here, I’m actually just recounting things I’ve known for years, this time because Brian is already reacting to all this without even realizing yet what is happening. Tomorrow’s practice will be a winner.
I will tell you one more BIG trade secret. Do not do these three things on stage: show off, be Mr. Nice Guy or be yourself because your mood will affect your performance. Instead, I’ll tell you what works, but remember that only a supremely confident stage demeanor will let you carry it off. The one thing no man is expecting is that you will help him score rather than compete with him. I’ll never tell how, but I do it all the time. Is it novel? Just say, I cannot in my entire life ever recall meeting another man who has ever done this for me. Damn rights that would get even you dancing.
Enough, I could write essays on my band experiences.
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