Here’s a still from the Hollywood Beach shell, more about that later. By far the outstanding event was this morning’s practice. We’ve a ways to go but we’d be lulu to stop now. Applying my bitterly-won guitar theories, we are already at the level of customizing each tune on a phrase-by-phrase basis. They don’t learn ya that stuff at the academy. We may become ready ahead of schedule, for it has serendipitously surfaced how the guitar part, when done to specs, doesn’t have to be anything like perfect. (I take full personal credit for inventing this, guys.)
I think many musicians would find it amusing to hear us chat during rehearsal. This tune is “bouncing”, that tune is “a foxtrotter”, and another is “pastel”. The more advanced we become, the less we need standard musical vocabulary. Um, think of is as parallel to the way JZ and I would talk about nanotechnology or CJD. If you don’t listen closely, very closely, to the topic, you’d think us a couple of rubes who recently got off the wrong bus.[Author’s note: On stage, this behavior is so intentional that I even have a term for it: “Ga-hunking.” Part of my act is to imply I don’t have a clue what’s really going on. I devote time to invent new ways to convey this, yes I do. My newest gag is to sway my elbow back and forth in a fashion that yells, “This joker never took lessons.” And CJD is mad cow disease.]
My other standard gimmicks are playing notes that aren’t there or taking my hand off the neck like I’ve lost count. I purposely over-syncopate Johnny Cash to startle people until they catch on, and I regularly play complicated riffs on one string as though I’m much too dumb to switch.]
Okay, I’ve already gotten snipes over CJD. Look it up yourself, but it is often mistaken for dementia. I have not included beef as a regular diet item now for some twenty years where JZ consumes it every day. He has to stop. So when you hear JZ and I yack about “growing a cow brain”, we are discussing protein deformation.
By late afternoon, I went for a 15 mile tour on the eBike. This included the entire waterfront and I found out plenty. Like which clubs hire bands when they have to. I chose this holiday weekend to see it for myself. I found merely four places and there was a French group in the bandshell. I’d describe the opportunities as “conservative”. All the entertainers were being paid $100 or less, a gloomy situation.
Gloomy, unless you know how to read the signs. Most acts were single guitarists, and not one of those was novel and some were frankly quite bad (see below). I saw no evidence that any of the acts were drawing customers. The strollers are the only uncommitted crowd on that beach, and they mostly kept on walking. Then, by chance, who do I find performing at the Riptide? Remember Big Jim? The guy who was looking for me last week?
He was hosting a mostly Karaoke show. Naturally we fell into talking and he got me on stage, so I chose the very tunes and versions being practiced right here. By the crowd reaction, I am more convinced than ever that a country duo will be a sellout on that beach. As it stands, there is so little to choose from, the bars were roughly sharing the crowds and collectively going broke.
Hidden here last is something I hate to do: criticize musicians. I will criticize their attitudes and tastes, but not the fact they are musicians. Keep that in mind during this critique. This guy was one of five acts along the Broadwalk, in this case Jake’s. I dare say standards have fallen below the embarrassment level. Maybe the clubs aren’t paying enough to attract talent but the musicians I saw are going to have to shoulder some of the blame.Guys, none of you have the equipment or personalities for outdoor shows. Face it, a Fender Passport does not cut it as road gear. Your acts lack effective management and it sounds like you are practicing in your living rooms. Worse, it sounds like you are playing what you can rather than (like my show) a series of hand-picked crowd-pleasing tunes based on familiarity and danceability.
I know times are hard and I predicted more middle-aged men would start digging out the old Strat, but the world has moved on. Most of you acted and sounded like you were playing for $50 plus tips and it just isn’t good enough. I wish you all well, but I believe 90% of you are about to be musically clobbered. You’ll still be there I’m sure, just nowhere near the action. The whole beachfront lacks action.
