My music lesson went well enough to day to finally assign homework. In this case, everybody is learning “Who’ll Stop The Rain”, one of Eddie’s tunes. Some of my students have never heard of Creedance. That’s fine, I’ve lost track of how many “rain” songs all those 1960s bands played. It is week four and everybody is playing popular music start to finish. One of the students was the father of one of my other students two years ago. He is my greatest promoter, since he tells the others how he didn’t get anywhere with lessons for years until he heard me teach. He is by far the best in the class. Anyone who says I’m wrong about how to play music, put that in your pipe and smoke it.
I watched the shop this morning while duplicating a series of Herbalife discs. They were in Spanish, but I could pick up that it is for starting a business. These kinds of things really irk me, the whole Amway and generally any ventures that target work from home. I guess it is just too dependent on selling things to your friends. In my circles, that is a quick way to have no friends. Among the discs were lectures by somebody called Jim Rohn, which goes into the “philosophy” of Herbalife. So it isn’t good enough just to sell vitamin pills, the customer needs a little indoctrination as well.
Then off to Bingo. The crowd is growing slowly. They can’t advertise since you’d need a gambling license, but we’ll see what happens when the Powerball hits a few hundred dollars. Don’t mistake me for a Bingo expert, all I know is how to play basic games where this crowd has all manner of variations. The Powerball is, with certain restrictions, the first number called on the first game. For the rest of the evening, if anyone Bingos on that particular number, they win the pot. Also, the game ends around 10:00, the crowd is fired up, and the PA system is ready to go. Are you thinking what Eddie and I are thinking?
But Eddie can’t play for another six weeks. I have to cover the bases, and I’m inviting a singing guitarist for a jam session. I emailed him saying as soon as he learns five or more tunes off my list, I want him in to play for at least an hour. There are advantages to playing unaltered cover tunes, but I like the option for independent practice the best. If you can strum and hum along to a tune, you can probably play it in my band. Jackie and I walked up to Boston’s for a look.
They had a rock band, a real treat. I haven’t seen a one in years, and the heavy metal variations don’t count. This was a good old classic three-piece group like I would form in an instant. Drums, bass and lead, they reminded me of the first “rock band” I ever heard. I was 13. The band was called “Purple Haze”, no less. The only other band that influenced me was called “The Hidden Sounds”. My heroes and influences have always been live performers, never canned recordings no matter how famous or talented. I still manage a smile with people who know what “album” a song comes from.
“The Hidden Sounds” were my musical opposites. Talented, organized, best of equipment, and where I had to beg to be allowed to play music, their own mother was the band manager. Granny D. She took tickets at all their “dances”, although by the time I met them this era of performances was, sadly, coming to an end. Not so much because it was trite, but because most states began to drop the drinking age. Teenagers could now go to a saloon, drink and hear music, and to this day that is still where most people see live shows. True, there are concerts but they have become an expensive joke. Unless you are the Stones or BB King, both solidly from the town hall era I’m talking about, you won’t sell any front row tickets to me.
Here’s some ancient musical history. The way a “dance” worked was the band rented the town hall and put up posters on local telephone poles. Then, they charged $1.50 per person at the door. There were always far more men than women because the local cowboys used to stand around in the back to see the girls. These are not the cowboys in the movies, but generally the ugly crowd of dropouts, rig workers and half-psychos you find in every small town. It was rare a fight didn’t break out. I don’t miss any of that part, but yes, I’ve played halls where somebody had to chop the firewood to heat the place before the dance. This goes a long way to explaining why I don’t appreciate musicians who play at the audience instead of for them.
One sight that has always particularly sickened me is the head-bobbing capo d-tuning solo acoustic guitar player. Mr. Kewl, writes lots of slow ballads, thinks it is original.
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