I was not going to post this photo, a random shot from the fair. But come on, how often do you get a pose like this? Add your own caption because I’m not even going to watermark this one. Elephant ears? Sugar shakers?
The big event of today was the audition. The result is I don’t know. I’m not the only person they are trying out. But if it was a matter of professionalism and compatibility, I’m almost certainly the choice. That’s from little signals as the playing went along, particularly the unquantifiables, such as stage presence and catching on to quirks in band rhythms. I confess to not being able to tell Elvis tunes apart and not caring for the Stones. But I played the music.It’s two guitarists and a drummer and they’ve been around a while, though only together for a year. They’ve said they are not averse to multi-banding, indicating some of them already do. I’ll get back to that momentarily. Nothing has been decided yet. I had to chuckle as they described their experiences with the “pro bass players” who answered their ad, probably the C-List “Mustang Sally Gang”. A hired gun is a musician who only wants to stand in on a gig for a cut of the money. You do all the work, he scoops the gravy.
Normally I am against being in a group where the others have outside interests that could conflict. So why am I hopeful with this new group? Tell you what, let’s examine what each side got from today and then decide for yourself. I think it is swell to find a blog that lets you do that. What did each of us take from the table during the two-hour audition? What were the important matters? Here is what I think transpired.
From me to them. They latched on to my stage presence, it fits me like a glove. They also stated they have never heard a bass solo like what I played for them. I can confirm that. I would rate their show as stolid, where mine is gregarious. I don’t dodge hecklers, I pick it up, defuse it, and throw it back. Not all bass players are second-class introverts.
From them to me. They know there is no room for a four-piece group in this town. The few paying venues don't pay enough. But there remains an occasional market for such goods. No band can live on New Year’s dances alone, so what is left? I can’t answer, but I’m going to continue learning more of their material on the presupposition that even if they take on some other bassist, they are still going to need me sooner or later. Welcome to Florida.
It was a guitarist-rich environment. Either of the two guitarists could form an instant paying duo with my input. I saw them both think it several times. It’s an idea that got reinforced by the music itself – that I am fully capable of providing a complete complementary bass and rhythm section. Immediately. From tidbits of talk, everyone in the room knows that a guitar-bass duo in this town would be hard to compete with. And if I can learn 13 obscure songs in three days . . .
Have you seen that new texting study? It says adults text more than teens when driving a car. I wonder if that has anything to do with the fact that adults own a lot more cars than teens. Gosh, I’m in a sarcastic mood these days. Is that because bingo was a flop? My long-term records show a steady monthly decline in bingo since January 2011. This [statistic] is a special calculation designed to block me from remembering only the good times.
I admit to having been a bookkeeper so long I psychologically reset my brain to each new month and each new year. This causes the vain hope that things will be better in a new period. Chances are my income from bingo is already below my opportunity cost.
Allow me to dwell on this concept. I have strong reasons to disagree with the classic definition of opportunity cost. The college examples will say if you plant potatoes at fifty cents a pound instead of pumpkins at forty cents a pound, your opportunity cost is the forty cents per pound, that is, the cost of the foregone pumpkin option. But I look more closely. Suppose you plant nothing. Why does your opportunity cost suddenly change to the fifty cents per pound lost by not planting potatoes? Who remembers the old airport joke that you save more money running behind the taxi than the bus?
They are guilty of the presumption that you own the potato farm. Suppose the more realistic situation where the land belongs to somebody else and you have to pay rent. If you stand still, you are losing money—that is the reality for most humanity. Opportunity costs make no sense in the case of poor people. I value sitting here reading a book at (if you must know) $10.27 per hour. That’s what you’d have to pay me to stop reading and we have not yet discussed my salary for doing any actual work.
Think about that. Why is half this town lined up for jobs that pay less than that? Why don’t I feel sorry for them? Could it be when they look at me they see a man with no car and no TV who lives in a trailer? As I turn the page I reflect, “If I’m around ten, twenty years from now, they and I will be doing much the same things.”
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