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Yesteryear

Thursday, May 27, 2010

May 27, 2010

           A mystery, I’m telling you. This is the original trailer court, and the entire area is flattened except my old place. The Florida room has been torn down for the scrap aluminum. You can see the door is missing. But I have no explanation why the systematic bulldozing of the entire area has left my unit until last. That was the best place I ever lived in Florida.
           That brute of a guitarist I met last Saturday got me riled enough to print a quick note of dissatisfaction on the Craigslist electronic washroom wall. That set off a chain reaction. It also proves that a significant number of other musicians feel the same way I do: converted guitar players make the world’s lousiest bass players. And I mean that in both talent and attitude. The fan mail received shows plenty of drummers and bassists agree. Oddly, no vocalists have spoken up, and the two guitarists who wrote begged to differ. They would, wouldn’t they?
           The strangest and most revealing thing about the comments that followed was the number of guitarists and bassists who have never heard of Carole Kaye. That right there tells you how shallow their understanding of their instruments must be. Undoubtedly a such a man (always a man) on bass must be one of the dreaded converts. I mean, how could anybody call themselves a bass player and not have heard of Carole Kaye? That’s like a guitarist who never heard of Jimi Hendrix.
           Now don’t get me wrong, I could not name three bassists out there, but that is not an important factor, since I know who Carole Kaye is. Next to her, all others shrink to insignificance. She is the First Lady of Bass and is far more responsible for the guitar sounds they worship than any of their very own guitar heroes. I’m just sayin’. I posted a few links to my FireHow articles and we’ll sit back and see what happens.
           I also took the opportunity to post my requirements for a guitarist. That amounts to somebody “who can play ten chords very well and sing a little country”. You’d think that would be easy, since I’ll make that person the next Johnny Cash. But the 13 applicants (15 if you count the Hippie and Cowboy Mike) have all let their egos get in the way. They immediately adopted the attitude that my job as a bassist was to set about following the songs they already knew how to play, since those must be no doubt be the best in the world.
           My question to any musician who wants to give me advice is, “Where have you been recording or performing for the past twenty years?” Either you are a recording musician or a performing musician, I don’t recognize the talking kind. Big talk, about their humbucking pickups and fancy strings and rare guitars and such shit you would not believe, as if it would impress the Queen. All talk and no action. You know who you are.
           Seeking a way to get to Bal Harbor, I discovered the local transit companies do actually review their routes every six months, cancelling the more unproductive runs. I have to take three different routes and two companies to get to the doggie wig place. But, I’ll give it a try even though I don’t know what it is they want. All the pricing is apparently right where I left it 18 months back.
           At the shop, Mike is no more. He defaulted on the rent and something like that was bound to happen. I thought I would be the first, although the books reveal I have indeed made a slight profit even in months I know other’s losses approached the thousands. The only time I outright took a loss was during the summer last year, and I had the shoe place to easily tide me over. I must keep my shop, for if I didn’t it would cost me even more in lost revenue to set the same service up from here. Somebody else will come along, for laptops are a lucrative business.
           More Amtrak news. Their site is strangely hard to navigate, being more of a ticket selling mechanism than an information booth. I’d like to know what cities the train stops in before I get bogged down with schedules and fares. I understand why they did it that way, but the ticket purchase meat grinder should be a little further into the overall process. From what I can find, the only stops are Memphis for 40 minutes at night, and Carbondale which I’ve never heard of. I also see the fares get higher the closer you book to departure date, the lowest fares are those paid two months in advance.
           For the first time in my life, I got a $12 refund check from the State of Washington. I estimate it cost me $80 to do so. Then, who needs me to tell you the rebate system doesn’t work in real life, much less at the government level. Bunch of thieves, and Washington isn’t even corrupt as far as these things go.
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