Arnel was over this morning to drop off a drum machine that will get us by. It is a DigiTech RP50 “modeling guitar processor” designed for something other than stage work. It is, of all things, center negative, a non-standard polarity for transformers, so I have to build one. It has 31 beats, most of them better than the Alesis. Digitech must be staffed by retards, as the speed settings (kind of like important with drum boxes) is a selection from 1 to 99 which does not correspond to beats per minute.In band news, Eddie is getting behind in his practice. He knows it and has been suggesting short-cuts by playing non-country music from his repertoire. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? It is often called “losing focus”. I have already learned my twelve tunes from his list, all of it music that I did not play before. He has learned zero of mine. Allow me to clear up another popular misconception. In my bands, a guitarist is just another instrument whose every tomorrow depends on today. No special status is accorded to any six-banger and I recently completed a two-year guitarless house gig to prove it.
Closely allied to this is another misconception that the bassist “follows” the guitarist and thus has an easy go of things. If the poor, overworked guitarist has to learn both the chords and the lyrics, may I point out that is the bare minimum commitment. I could split hairs because I do not accompany a guitarist, rather I custom write bass lines for each tune to the extent I can play them solo, but I must also learn and program the drum machine. Plus I have to perform all this well enough to cover stage mistakes, I have to memorize enough lyrics to prompt the singer if he gets a lapse, and I have to operate the drum machine in a more complicated manner than just turning it off and on. I am the wrong person to squawk to about the amount of work involved.
Further, my tasks are compounded by the fact I already have a fully functioning solo act whose momentum must be maintained regardless of how long it takes a guitarist to get up to speed. On the positive side, Eddie is quite aware he has finally met a bassist who is just about as far from all talk and no action as you get. Nobody is waiting for me to get off my ass. I play this Friday. And it is a full show, not a jam session or open mic.
[Author's note 2015-08-12: When I say "full show" I am referring to the two or three hour standard which I negotiate. Four hours is too long for the boomer crowd anyway. And one need only cover "prime time" as this nonsense that people go out to see a certain band is bogus. But it is also one of the hardest facts for some people to accept. Put it to the test. Count how many people arrive with the band and how many leave when the entertainment is done.]
Braving the car for a longer road test, I see that it must not be taken on the freeway or over 40 mph. Still, that’s a victory compared to what I was expecting. I rode the bus again today and it is not bad, provided you do not have to transfer. So I’m covered for transportation in the short run. The high point of the day was the other end of that bus ride, where I finally got my first proper EKG test in 18 months. There was a little more to this than meets the eye, but all I can say is the results were very positive in every way. Don’t spend 15 years behind a desk like I did, go get yourself a bicycle. Or at least a trikke like cross-country Mitch. I dare him to race me across the continent on that thing.
I met a most interesting doctor during the testing process. The fact is, I had a serious heart attack in my prime, and the damage was permanent and irreversible. However, this doctor was able to describe to me exactly where these tests and results fit into the scheme of things, including some straightforward advice about matters like insurance. All I can say is this information was absolutely most interesting and at the right time. There is no doubt this fellow can be totally trusted and my commitment is to follow whatever he prescribes to the letter. He ordered a major stress test early next month, the one nobody can afford.
The lady interested in the room called back. She may be as attracted by the “shared privacy” lifestyle here as the relatively low rent. I’d rate her as a mildly overly-social person on a scale that places me in the “hard to get to talk about the weather” category. I’ve sent her an inexhaustible supply of photos of the place, she seems to love the patio and yard. She knows the kitchen is smallish and parking is limited. She is “spun” and can be very “Canadian” to talk to, as in this verbatim example, where she asked about the neighbors:
Me: “It is a casino next door and they are very quiet.”
She: “Who is?”
Me: “The casino?”
She: “What Casino?”
Me: “The Casino next door.”
She: “Are they quiet?”
Me: “They are quiet.”
She: “Who is?”
Me: “The Casino.”
She: “And where are they located?”
Me: “Next door.”
She: “Next door to what?”
You think I’m kidding, don’t you? Still, I am anxious to get that room rented so I can be very flexible about behavior.
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