I’m getting great response to my newest single, “Anything But Tequila”. I’ll need to do a mixdown and hand out copies. (If you are not familiar with it, I’ve rearranged the Venture’s riff into a 12-bar format with a pause after each two measures. The trick is for the audience to chant out anything except the word “tequila”. The sax part is played on the bass. Actually, the whole melody is played on the bass. What did you expect?) But there’ll be no recording today. We’ve got a mid-winter heat wave happening. The A/C must be on, along with room fans. That means anything recorded (through a microphone) will have wind noises. Not much to do but wait it out. Helped by the fact that some people are so incompetent and beneath contempt that it takes them four damn days to mail a letter from Tennessee. In a near emergency.
“Now I Know”, the daily quip from Dan Lewis, reports that Norway finally has a Starbucks. Too bad, for it is my opinion that Starbucks wrecked the traditional coffee shop. What they sell isn’t really coffee, but coffee-flavored milkshakes. And they destroyed the fantastic concept of the free refill, the jerks.
Anyway, the today’s trivia is why there wasn’t a Starbucks in Norway before. Some people go on that it is because milk is so expensive over there. That’s nonsense considering Starbuck prices. The real reason is the Starbucks business model depends, for its very existence, on paying employees less than a living wage. While starvation wages are not illegal in Norway, the least anybody will work for is around $45,000 per year. (The Starbucks is located at an airport.)
As far as airports, I haven’t been in one since 2003. The second longest stretch in my life without flying, and that includes as a child on the DC-3s. I was not in an airplane from ages 8 to 19, that was the longest stretch. I last told the [following] tale so long ago, I can say it again. When I traveled in my youth, I used to ask the check-in folks to set me next to a pretty young single gal. When I hit 33 years old, the airport’s concept of pretty, young, and single went downright strange on me.
Trent and I played our second live stage act this evening, around an hour and a half. The result was a number of surprises, all appreciated because there is no replacement for musical experience. The PA continued to clip, leading suspicion to the speaker cables. They have to be heavy duty copper and that’s something I’ve neglected. Thus, we played at a rather low volume and that revealed another unusuality. (Did I just coin a word?) At our quietest setting, we have a very lounge-like sound. The bass was too quiet, but the guitar was enough to roll along.
Performing brings all boo-boos to the surface faster than anything. Screwing up on stage is a big lesson in itself. It sure teaches one what to work on. Laura from Karaoke called me to appear at the Upper Deck (on Hallandale). I showed up late for one song, but was reminded why I don’t care for that place. Middle aged couples, slow service, high prices, and a complete lack of single women. Mind you, the men present were no catches themselves. And here I leave out any references to the skinny broad who missed her chance with me waiting for me to make the first move. When I was 10 or 11 years old, I’d seriously noticed the difference in women’s personalities caused by hair color. You think I’m kidding, don’t you?)
Now pardon me, it is Saturday, I’m exhausted, and I’m going to find a good book and a warm blanket.
