Here’s a picture that sums up the situation. In Florida, you can’t have it both ways also means you can’t have it either way. You are welcome, but we mean someplace else. Go away. Get lost. Not a single interesting thing occurred in this state today, although the good news is our police shoot cannibals, particularly those hi on bath crystals. Saving face has an all-new meaning in Miami.
The end of a highly successful week (financially speaking) finds me at the bakery for an extended morning coffee. I worked long and hard for it, so today I’ve decided to laze around. Or as Dilbert said it so right, stick a straw in the company pension plan and suck on it for the next 30 years. I am the prime advocate of being as fair with life as life has been with you. For the short run, the new band will overshadow everything around here. My guess is we will rapidly progress to working the circuit. Give us two months do what you-know-who failed to accomplish in thirty years. The sad news is the dreadful fall in performer pay rates. From what checking I’ve done, the independents are offering $50 per band member, plus tips. That’s hardly breakeven but still ten times what the Hippie pays.
The logic is a picnic. Even $50 keeps me in circulation and not spending elsewhere. It beats any part-time job in these whereabouts. And it is a situation where I can concentrate on presenting only my best material, all of it fast, infectious party music. As a backup, I will still be recording my solo tracks and none of it conflicts with anything Ray-B or Trent and I are learning.
Ray-B and I went over the local list of places to play. I’m not keen on Dania Bar & Grill because they never pay, their entertainment consists of bands showcasing. But Jake’s, the old HWB, that is worth a look. That’s an ideal location for this band. I hope I’m not to late for July 4th.
Congrats if you noticed my lists of five appearing for the month of June. Each of these lists is a story in itself. For example, I said the Taj Mahal was interesting, not that it was worth going there. Have you seen India’s touted “billion dollar house”? Designed to the principles of Vaastu, the goddess of mismatched undersocks, it is on the left side of the picture. Today’s list (below) is incomplete, these just happen to be the five prettiest of the total in my life. I like pretty, it means a lot to me. It’s what makes me so absolutely superficial.If you think I’m just crowing about women, you might want to read the definition of an Alpha male. Nowhere will you see a word about money, but let’s apply the criteria to someone, say for instance, myself. Let’s see. Multiple women but not letting any of them dominate my life. Check. Fulfill life goals, intelligent, highest amount of self control. Check. Be sure to read the other definitions so you can segment what I definitely am not.
Alpha minus types are jocks. I’ve always detested jocks. Beta plus types lack willpower and direction. I doubt I’ll be diagnosed with that. And the Beta minus gang, which I label collectively as liars, well, I understand that most men have to lie to get anything in this world. I admit to associating with liars because they infest every level of human existence and are unavoidable. But as far as Omega types, I don’t even associate with any. Even superficially.
I did my regular check on real estate prices in Palm Beach County. The usual group of idiots advertising mobile homes without specifying the lot rent, but what do you expect from the leftover cripples of that industry. Or, if the price includes land, they don’t state any membership fees. (I consider lot rents of over $350 per month anywhere in Florida as outrageous.) It is still too early to buy and I don’t detect the level of desperation you get just ten miles south. I may plant a rent to own ad just to see what I can rustle up. It’s amazing what you find waving a $10,000 down payment under their nose.
See the declining number of short sales. What’s up with that? And the ones that remain show the banks are getting cautious (the bank still goes after the original owner for the balance of the short sale and it would appear they are getting stung too often). Speaking of getting stung, when I scroll through my fake listing at the dating service, I’m surprised how many women I recognize. Put another way, if I know you from your picture and didn’t hit on you in real life, time to ask yourself some serious questions.
I’m currently reading a book on anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put it down. That one is just here to see if you are paying attention. You like that? Here’s another. I used to date a girl with a wooden leg, but I broke it off.
Too bad, the Internet makes this list impractical.
But, that's five more than you.
ADDENDUM
Have you heard enough about music yet? Good, neither have I. Besides, you are supposed to be enjoying the whole social tourney of continual misfortune and reward, the human drama of it all. . I shelled out $170 for a headset mic and another $14 for an adapter, just knowing I’ll still encounter PAs with no XLR jack.
Also, I found an 8-track recorder, used, for $135 including shipping from California. That’s a leap of faith that I can rationalize, I say most people who buy those things never get to the advanced features, so they remain in new condition. I chose a Boss BR-600, which is far from ideal. But now I’ll get something done this month.
In the big picture, I’ve spent slightly over $4,200 in equipment total, most of which is depreciated or obsolete. That’s only about 25% of what many others spend, but I don’t use much backup or distortion gear. It’s a measure of change that I spent more on a microphone today than ever in my life before. Then again, that makes sense; why would I?
Which brings us to last evening. Can we talk? This blog isn’t a gossip column, so I do tend to tone down criticism by wording it as my opinion, or as [if it is only] something gone wrong. Trust me, I have the vocabulary and enough experience with people to make things here downright nasty and profane any time I want. But to leave ratings somewhat PG13, I’ll stick with describing the worst of it.
Well, I’m not jamming with certain people any more. I figure a professional should be able to fake simple two-chord tunes off the bat, and certainly by the third try. Which was tonight. The guys at Willy’s are not getting it. Even the hippie could catch the thrust of a tune and except for his Zydeco dementia, do a faithful cover. But trying to turn every song into some blues-jazz-fusion thingee is plain dumb. You don’t do that to Hank or Jimmy. Jambalaya is in C, not B#maj9+13dim6aug.
There was another case of chronic gitaritis. The mentality where the guitar player does whatever he damn well pleases and all the underlings must f-o-l-l-o-w. But this guy could not do the reverse. When I was not singing (meaning when he didn’t have the words to keep him on measure), he’d lose his place and couldn’t come back in. Folks, few things on Earth are as easy as playing along to my bass lines. Another thing I had to squint at was how completely unfamiliar the guy was with his own PA. He had no clue how to set anything but his own channels. Then he’s visibly miffed when I reach over and set it in two seconds.
I suppose I’m saying there is an overall level of mastery needed to operate even at minimum level. And I’m not getting that from Florida musicians. That’s evidenced by how my act got more and more solo over time, until last evening I wound up playing the last tune by myself. But no more with those guys, there is just too much wrong with that situation. Mike I’ll tolerate because he’s not scowling in the background all the time. And I told Mike I have every intention of “stealing” that gig. Don’t worry, Mike, we’ll shortly be moving on. Oh, yeah.
