This amateur photo is full of background distractions, but I chose it to emphasize the unusual profile of the L1. It is designed to stand behind the performer without feedback, and positioned properly it may become unnoticeable. The big black plate is an optional item, the nearly weightless “tower” clips into a matching slot on the bass cabinet. Look close and you may be able to see the tower is in three sections, so it can be matched to any size room. The smallest section is the same height as the bass cabinet, becoming a single unit that is “bingo sized”. For the traditional-minded, I will point out that this rig is so advanced that only one tower is necessary. More can be connected if you still want two, but inside the tower, there are speakers facing everyone in the 180 degrees ahead. Of course, you have to hear the setup to believe it. There are no “dead spots” in the listening area, since there is no longer a “cone”. The sound is crystal clear. And it is unbelievably loud, the unit shown here is meant for a small auditorium.
Everything is fine again, following a successful gig last evening. I went out after for a Xmas drink, first time in that many years. I was tipping $5 bills at the bowling alley. Couple that with an equally successful bingo session (somebody won the powerball), and I’m set for January. Ah, I see you want something to go on, some facts and figures. Instead you get a statistic, take it or leave it.
First of all, this figure includes a grain of salt, because unlike the people I am comparing to, I’ve never had a gig where nobody showed up. Or put more politely, where the audience consisted entirely of invited musicians. I have to leave the other guy’s bombed gigs out of the formula, even though they are a significant chunk of his total. Here is what is left: I now average $2 per patron per evening in tips, which is just around eight times as much as the so-called musical experts around here. Read and weep. Eight times.
Some joys of home ownership, Wallace noticed a dank aroma two days ago. Then I caught it. I’ve checked everything since the rainstorm last week. The only strangeness I can find is the cat suddenly will not go under the building, even to do her business. I’m crawling under for a look today, keeping caution that this property is the highest and driest in the area, a natural refuge during a flood. Watch out for those Florida pythons.
Back to music, I had several people ask about my show, and I see that there are some serious misconceptions over how I manage things. That’s fine, for in a sense it means less rivalry. Seriously, some people have the impression that all I do is record songs and play them back. (My show has always been so enhanced it is often mistaken for totally live.) It takes around two hours per tune to get music up to the standard where I can even use it.
Let me tally something here. Yep, it is a ten-step process, eleven if you include the anti-virus check. All are non-musical steps before I can even begin customizing the bass line. And we have not yet begun to get to the lyrics, which need be formatted for a Karaoke screen. That does not happen by itself, peeps. (In fact, an excellent defining line between myself and a computer dunce is whether you can create your own Karaoke tracks or have to waste money buying the whole CD.) Despite some of my most intensive research, I’ve still made probably a half-dozen false starts. If that happens to me, how do some types even expect to see the horizon?
I’ve got hundreds of disks of material with glitches that did not show up until I’d invested countless efforts. (Take that time-consuming Serenade software whose defect only appeared at high volume on stage.) Yet I honestly believe the time and money has been a bargain compared to dealing with musicians and technicians. My operation assuredly has a greater satisfaction-return on stage, for by the time I hit that first bass note, I know every scrap of every part of every song, button and file up there. Some people would do well to go back and read that last sentence again.
Still on music, I think it is time to seek another rhythm instrument than guitar. I’ve found out the hard way when you take on a guitarist, you cannot let him play any of his own music. Not even one tune. The bastard will daydream you’re weakening and try to take over. Other instruments and females don’t seem afflicted. I certify it is “a hundred times” more difficult to start a band than to join one. That’s why so many guitarists want to steal yours.
What’s this? I thought I’d have some easy shopping today. Half the natives must have been waiting for the après-Xmas sales. It took them long enough to catch on. Far larger crowds than before the holiday. When they learn to stop using credit cards, then we’ll see some real market corrections.
Princess Pudding-Tat makes the news again, with her first bath. In the kitchen sink. She took to it well, although constantly ready to escape. She dried out in around twenty minutes and chose to forgive me within the hour. This means a tick shampoo to follow, for she clearly knows the bath is for her own good. As par for me, there is not a single word in any of the pet care books that describe what she has--small bumps under the fur. Contact dermatitis of some sort.
