One year ago today: March 6, 2014, first mention of my computer shop.
Five years ago today: March 6, 2010, the math of incest.
Ten years ago today: March 6, 2005, ten million pixels.
MORNING
This is the first blurry picture I had taken of the bandsaw. I walked over to look at the saddle. I’m not the first Texan to wonder if a saddle like that could be fitted to my motorcycle. Then you discover this is popular in Europe, where they are called rat-cycles. Or something like that. Mostly English riding saddles that don’t have a horn to get in the way of the gas tank.
So I told him the bottom line, I’m not a blues bassist. He says it is easy, but I know that he is not a career bassist to say that. If you play the easy versions, you will get bored on stage. If you play anything complicated, it is so much like work you want to get paid steady. I like a compromise and the way I play country music would fall right into that definition. Anyhow, I agreed to a jam this evening to see what we sound like.
He was just enthusiastic enough that I’ll be looking for his motives. We talked about bands, not about music, so that is a sign of professionalism. But I refuse to oversell myself and he is asking for the world. For any newcomers, I’ll simply explain that I am not a recording artist. Some of those guys are beyond any talent and incredible to the core. I am not the greatest bass player and never will be. But, on the other hand, I am often, and that means MOST of the time, the best bassist many people have ever heard in a small live venue.
Why do I say that? Because bass players never get ovations and I get them all the time. I’ll see what this new guy, Noah, has to say. If you really done it, then it ain’t braggin’. I like to deliver the audience a good listening experience, I mean it is their money, but not so complex that you go into heads-down mode and play at them. Right, Dominic?
NOON
"Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong.” (Farm wisdom)
It’s not until you try to do something new, as in non-standard, that you realize how third-world America has become. I spent time on three separate trips to the hardware stores to find a short-shank 9/16ths drill bit. This is not an uncommon size, but no more in demand than any other. Yet everybody is sold out and not restocked. And I’ve become quite selective about my drill bits these days. I’ve got the new blade for the band saw, check back with me later on that one.
My fan mail does get read and no, guys, I have never spelled out what I mean when I say I’ve been scammed by guitar players. But I’ve certainly described every facet of the operation. A scam is something that takes anything from the victim via misrepresentation.
A guitar player does not get any response from me without first convincing me he wants to join a band and will learn the band’s music. Both elements have to be present and stated with a large degree of believability. So when later it turns out gittar-boy had no intention of doing what he said, the rest of the band is out the time invested. And that’s a scam.
Many sources say it is not a scam. They are saying that is the true and accepted
His game plan is he's been patiently waiting for you non-guitar-types to catch up to his incredible playing, which by now you should realize, as he does, that he has become the focal point of this band. Why look, he's "leading". And Lordy-knows how hard that has been on him, putting up with your inadequacies. Now he certainly can’t be learning your material because you other people haven’t got your background accompaniment-role perfected yet. And he'll tell you how hard it is to play in a band, just like the last five bands he's pulled this stunt on.
You get two attitudes at this point. One is that the guitar player has worked so hard on his own material that the rest of the band is letting him down by not becoming his perfect backup group. Two is that if you’ve learned his music this far, you must now realize how superior his song choices were and thus be willing to chuck your silly old song list now that he's imparted upon you "musical taste". I'm not making this up.
Wish me luck, I’m going to try to install the band saw blade. These things are about $12 a piece. Also, I see the blade that was on the saw was a metal cutting type. It states on the box to not use this saw for cutting metal. I’m about to commence so always remember, no experiment is a failure if you learn something from it.
AFTERNOON
Looks like I learned what I tried to avoid. The replacement blade is unique to Ryobi. All other 9” saws (refers to the diameter of the driving wheels) use a 62” blade, this one needs a 59-1/4” blade. There is no mention of this special requirement in the Ryobi literature. In fact, the BS-903 is not even listed on the Ryobi home page. Of course, this makes them, for whatever good they may do in the universe, into total assholes. That’s how the MicroSoft Rule works.
Then I find out that Ryobi is sold exclusively thru Home Depot. Good, I’ll take this blade back and see how difficult it is to get the correct blade. This already looks like heap big trouble. But I may have moved on time, the newer Ryobi model, the 904, has all the metal parts reduced to a minimum and looks like a toy. My 903 was a model sold since 2010. I found the part (351009000) in a blow-up picture at a web page called “arinet”. Don’t ask me how you are supposed to know that.
Here is a photo of the innards of the band saw, dismantled in places for the purpose of replacing the blade. It essentially rolls a flexible blade around the pulleys which gives you a cutting edge on the flat table. This was not pleasant work as today was an early touch of spring weather, so I was working in the heat and humidity. But if you want the whole room to smell great for a couple hours, just slice some pine wood with this puppy.
It didn't exactly instill me with confidence to find the replacement blades can be purchased in packs of 100 for $359.
EVENING
I made the audition, but once more, it turned out to be me auditioning the guitarist. It was the same old story, there was no band, there were no gigs lined up. I could rescue a lot of guys from the pangs of self-blame by pointing out that finding the right band has parallels with the breaking in of a new girlfriend—in that as you get older, it gets ever more difficult to have to start over from scratch.
You know what I mean. Some women, like my ex-wife, walk into your life and things work smoothly despite the fact you are different in every other way. We’d both learned a thing or two. But nobody likes clueless old people who are hung up on that laborious juvenile attitude of “getting to know you better” that makes you feel you’ve had to "earn" all the fun that ever happens. Show 'em, Theresa.
Well, that was this guy--starting from scratch. The guy says he plays “every instrument”, and if that is the case, from what I heard, so do you and I. Even those we’ve never heard of. Worse, this guy had every last symptom of guitar dementia, that is, gittaritis. You know the type: everybody loves the blues, bass is easy attitude, comps every tune, thinks good bands follow him, Clapton is still king, and on down the simple-minded guitar player mentality line.
Yet, the guy was the type of crazy musician that sometimes succeeds. I agreed to meet up a second time, if only to find out who this guy might know. But he had no song list, the songs he sang were not even in his key. The guy was pretty lousy, but in true guitar-player fashion, still figured he was the best even when I played lead breaks on the bass that he couldn’t play on guitar. (“Wow, man, that sounds neat.”) Nothing gets through guitar dementia.
What ground my gears is the guy kept pointing out he’d never had a lesson. Well, neither have I, but lets’ be fair here. He was unable to explain why, if blues was so popular, there have been no blues bars in this town for fifteen years. He comped everything, so he could not even play the blues he “loves so much”. He knew nothing about music theory—that’s the job of musical underlings, you see. He also played strange versions of covers, often glossing over difficult passages by power-chording.
A couple of other items didn’t jive, such as how everything took the guy by surprise. “You drive a scooter? I’ve never seen any bass player drive a scooter.” And I’m like. He has no PA system and none of the accoutrements needed for a basic show. Thus, check back tomorrow, as I’m going to the beach jam with this dude.
This evening was obviously his truly first brush in life with the bass as other than some obscure and inferior background instrument.
Last Laugh
Now, does this guy fit
your description of "ornery"?
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