One year ago today: August 24, 2013, the "wagon camper".
Five years ago today: August 24, 2009, lots of reading.
Ten years ago today: August 24, 2004, goodbye Pluto?
Nobody showed up for the meeting this morning. I had a sandwich and got back inside with my air conditioner. I’ve already completed the analysis of the gig last evening. There is a saying that all bands are only as good as their last hit. Well, maybe the same goes for musicians and their last gig. This is not a business to take it easy. I’ll also add the oft-repeated fact that I did not say anything I do on the bass is original. I do say that as far as I know, I am the only one around here who does it. And if I could find a band that would do exactly what I say, we would within a month be the most requested band in town and within six months, have a hit on the market.
The gig exhausted me for the following twelve hours. I had to sleep enough to get over it, so it is now 6:00 PM Sunday evening. I’m wide awake and the town has closed for the evening. There’s a movie, but I like morning movies now. The Chocolate Moose is shut down, but that has been happening since I first learned of the place. Strange how the coffee shops in this area don’t advertise. I mean, at all, not even the odd flyer. Mind you, if you want to go for a beer, there are sixty-five bars and any most restaurant will see you alcohol.
Question? Do you like assholes? I don’t. But some people do. They are called “other assholes”. Well, how would any assholes out there like to meet all the other assholes you could ever want in one simple session? It’s easy. Go on-line and type the search phrase, “fan belt”. Voila! You are teleported to asshole heaven. “You want a fan belt, well let’s get you signed up.” (Admittedly, this tactic doesn’t come close to walking into Firestone or Canadian Tire on Grey Cup weekend.) Want a fan belt? Assholes to the left of you, assholes to the right of you . . .
It says here Chapman, the guy who shot John Lennon, was just denied parole for the eighth time. I feel that is totally unfair. Chapman should be let go, just turned out onto the street. On one condition: That they tell the world exactly when and where.
Trivia. There is a question on the test to get your radar operator’s license that asks what happens if you turn the radar on in a room full of flashbulbs. Those are those old bulbs used for flash photography. The radar will set them all off. Makes you wonder who the sap was that discovered this. It says here that to operate any radar with a range of more than ten feet, you need a license. And that “operating” also means receiving the radar signal. This came about from commentary on the new radar at the Ft. Lauderdale airport. It does not revolve, rather has a set of “baby radars” that scan the whole horizon and can be focused for a 3D image.
Argh, I missed my $10 discount coupon at RadioShack because I misplaced my keys. Took me an hour to find them. So I made an uncharacteristic stop at the old club. That was an eye-opener. There are no musicians there, but they are definitely audience types, so I listened to their advice about my new band. It is kind of plain the core group of three [people in the new band] lacks the personalities to propel us forward. There was also a definite but hardly slight effort to subdue my performance by blocking the audience view of my presentation—though I stress if this was so, it was more natural than intentional--to an extent, so read on.
Last (but important) item, there is a matter I’ve been meaning to address. I said at first (about a year ago) how I thought it was lack of stage space that this band insists I stand backstage, beside the drummer. And I thought it was instinctive when the guitarist was always moving to stand between me and the audience. I regularly move around a lot on stage and the rest of the band does not. They normally stand quite still. Ergo, to stay in front of me, the other guy has to begin to move and this gets conspicuous.
What I will do for now is nothing.
You see, he’s making a big mistake. The band is running low on guitar music. They painted themselves in a corner on that one. Each new piece takes a little longer to learn and features a little more of the new singer. I can foresee that where she now “agrees” with suggestions, she will soon have the weight to push her own music on the band. And guess which kind of music she likes the best? Country rock.
Like my ex, she is starting to catch on she can sound much better following the bass than the rest of the band--a phenomenon that is not natural, rather has to be pointed out to the average musician. Think of it as kind of the vocalist "harmonizing" with the bass--because I've learned which scale notes work best for that. And you don't exactly learn those by taking lessons at Guitar Center, grasshopper.
But the guitar-rot in this band is so intense, I dare not point out this fact. There would be open hostility. The others are too content to stay put. However, if this band does not progress, the writing is on the wall.
[Author's note 2015-08-24: this turned out to be the crucial point. The band's inability to do anything but play guitar music, and as with all such bands, the suitable music ran out. While a deadly spot-on musician for what he could play, our man could not learn anything else. He tried to learn "Venus" (Shocking Blue) and "Last Train To Clarkesville" (Monkees) and it was embarassing. This also means the guitar player was now holding back the whole band. Everybody but me was fine with that. It also means the band will never rise above the unacceptably low level it now operates at.]
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