One thing I cannot do where Arnel is an expert is work the tables. I just have no memory for names and faces, whereas he finds it natural. (Mind you, if the name and face belong to an incredible babe, I can manage well enough, thank you.) I had gone to the beach to deliver some software he requested and wound up staying for two hours. We know we need more planning time but it seems whenever we meet up, it is one gig or another. Oh, the pain of being music stars on the beach. Ha!Jim and I also talked business. He is one of Arnel’s guitar students and will be a contender once he coordinates things. The biggest departure [change] for me in the past two years has been the willingness to put on a show at all costs. Back when I thought I needed a guitarist, I was caught up with people who played at the audience rather than with them. Those days are gone, and I would cautiously like to report something that is not intended to raise any hopes. I sang at my show y’day. I don’t mean just sang, as in sure, I’ve been singing more and more. But I really sang. I had to look around to make sure it was me. So that’s what it is all about. Then I did it again to make sure it was me. It was.
Now don’t go thinking like I just said I could sing. For starters, singing requires a confidence I don’t have. I’m just saying something “clicked” for a half hour in my entire life. Still, click it did and I’m not one to miss an opportunity. I spent eight times as long downloading lyrics for my show all morning. A few cranky customers in the shop slowed me down. Usually it is people who don’t understand why it costs more to work on laptops than desktops. Did I tell you about the time Mike had to take out 91 screws to change the drive on an Acer? I wouldn’t have done it for a lousy fifty bucks, lady.
In the parking lot of AutoZone, I found the brake leak. I have brakes, just not power brakes, in case you are wondering how I got over there. In frustration, I ran the car up on a curb and crawled around the undercarriage. Aha, it is the rear driver’s side and the fluid ran half-way along the frame before it dripped. A stealth leak.
Speaking of the cost of a show, part of the self-correcting analysis I run of each performance involves tracking the money. If I broke even on my equipment, I would probably have bragged about it at that time. (It was indeed cause for celebration, since I never managed that until I went solo.) More importantly, I am approaching the break even point for the entire costs, which are significantly higher than tallying up equipment prices. I have recaptured somewhere between 78 and 79 per cent of my out-of-pocket. However, the majority of the recapture has been in the past three months and the rate of recapture is skyrocketing. I will resist the temptation to get a bigger tip jar.
Is all this meaningful, musically? Yes. My original equipment is in perfect order after two years. I’ve had to replace only consumables. Cables, fuses, batteries. I’m long aware that I have no spares, that is, one malfunction can bring me to a standstill. Once I’m making a true or economic profit, I will begin to accumulate backup gear, practice gear, and begin to purchase items that have little purpose beyond enhancing the performance. Like better quality Karaoke microphones and lots more of them.
I also make a guarded referral to the regularity of earnings. There were the times I played for $5 (not counting all those times with you-know-who). Hang on, I’ll get you some exact information. Here we go. The least I’ve ever made as a solo is $1.25 (on June 6, 2007, my third show) and it cost me $2.65 in gasoline to do that. I’ve played eight times in two years where I made less than $10 per show including tips. Since I’ve never cancelled a show that means I stuck it out. I don’t remember those shows. I must have had fun. My earnings are now more regular. My show has progressed to the point where I can count on making more per month than I did in six years as a duo.
Proving again, I am an excellent team member: the Captain.
