One year ago today: April 27, 2016, biscuits for breakfast.
Five years ago today: April 27, 2012, it’s a birdfeeder.
Nine years ago today: April 27, 2008, remember analog video?
Random years ago today: April 27, 2010, more economical than marriage?
Blech, I just made the worst spaghetti sauce yet. I used my same ingredients, but it came out kind of sweet instead of tangy. Meat sauce is supposed to bite back a little. Our first brutally hot summer day has arrived, I skipped my chores and stayed in the shade. I’m re-reading the Antarctica book and planning a major siesta. I’ve also been researching yet another theory that I can’t find anything published on the topic. I’ll throw it out there, once again, I’m not claiming to be first, only that I’ve not heard of anyone else on the topic before.
These locust plagues. And those midge flies at Okeechobee, and those bottle fly outbreaks, and mosquitoes. These are grim episodes for all other life that has to co-exist with such insects. Why is it, in millions of years of evolution, nothing has emerged to counter these swarms? If evolution is an adaptation to the environment, why has not some other species developed to feast when the time comes? I understand that insects may have the edge in adapting to change, but more than enough time has elapsed for other species to adapt and offset these hordes.
Most of today is music. Yes, I’m aware how dumb it is to practice on a Thursday when Friday is gig night, but I’ve got another guitar dud-superstar on board. Dragging his guitar anchor, dragging me down to his stale, drained-out level, which is not and never will be good enough. But any band is better than no band. It’s the same old story, he thinks he’s tricked me into investing so much time into the project that I won’t back out. He’s wrong; he’s the one on borrowed time. I didn’t fall for it again, I opted to go ahead anyway. He has not learned one new song in three weeks, he has not practiced even five minutes on his own time. Each time we’ve played one of my songs, I’ve had to teach him again that week.
I think I know why these New Yorkers are so rotten at self-assessment. Because the light at the end of the tunnel is New Jersey. Music is one career where it is better to do business with a drunk professional than a sober amateur. You can tell when the guitarist is lying since they never tell the truth. It is 2017 and I have yet to meet a guitarist who learned something new in my bands.
See addendum for analysis, the third practice is over. This is a band that might play out, but as far as being a new sound for tired audiences, the guitarist has completely flopped. It came out this morning that he has no provision for downloading music from the Internet, doesn’t know how, and doesn’t want to learn how. Ask yourself where that attitude fits in today’s world? So it was all a lie that he had copies of his music, now saying he “was never into MP3s”.
He says he just plays the song on his computer, a rinky-dink laptop with speakers so tiny you cannot even hear the bass lines. You cannot play in a bass and acoustic duo if you can't hear the bass. I wondered why he wasn't impressed with my bass work--he's never heard the bass lines in the originals. That makes him no different than any other boring guitarist with a bad attitude. When asked how he could be sure he was learning the same version as the other band members, he said because they “exchanged links and it was never a problem before”. Yeah, I can imagine what they sounded like.
The bottom line is he has no intention of learning any of my songs, since he doesn’t know which version I’m playing. By the second verse of every song, he’s comping.. However, this is closer than I’ve gotten with the other yahoos in Polk County, so I’ll bite the bullet and go along with it for now. At least until I meet somebody who can do the job right. Don’t get me wrong, the new guy can sort of play some of the duo arrangements—but only because they are coincidentally the way he’s played them before. Zero new material, that’s what he’s learned. Zero.
Despite the promises made that he could learn anything and would play duo style, he is not practicing. As long as both of us are playing roughly the same thing, he thinks he’s in a band. Forget any plans of bringing a new quality act to fruition, I would book this band for drunks and hillbillies, but nothing above that. He might still improve, but once you are over 40, there is no such thing as a late-bloomer. Like every other Florida guitar player, he thinks he is already fine and does not need to do anything different. Promises? Oh, those are just to trick people into doing things for free. Right, mom?
So, it’s another third-rate hack band because I can’t find a decent guitar player who can play simple rhythms. That’s why you’ve heard me lament why I’d rather find some complete beginner guitarist, so there is no damage that needs undoing. As usual, I’m bringing his guitar playing up and he’s dragging my bass playing down. Another oddity is that he is used to “showing the bass player” what he wants on guitar, but the snag there is I play guitar and he doesn’t play bass. I tried a couple of time to show him the vast improvement when I customize a bass line, but he’s never really listened to bass before, so he doesn’t get it.
He also has a tendency to argue the wrong points. You can tell him fifty times we avoid the overplayed standards, but he still wants to play songs from his old band up north. Why? Well, because it doesn’t involve any work learning new material. I’ve heard it all before. He insisted we drop one of our top songs because he didn’t want to play the correct rhythm (“Don’t Rock The Jukebox”). He wants to play this syncopated half-rhythm that barely fits.
Why he picked that one song to argue over is beyond me. Maybe he prefers to play the rhythm a little wrong in every song rather than a whole bunch wrong in that one. Those who’ve been with me for years will recognize the con job. He will discover doing things his way doesn’t work on stage, and instead of admitting I was right and getting to work, he’ll brilliantly suggest we add a drummer, another guitarist, and a keyboard player. Happens every friggen time with these guitar players, he thinks his real job is getting the non-guitarists in the band to see the light.
Alaska beach holiday.
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Following is a description of why I retain complete control of the manufacturing facilities and have a tight lid on where I get my specialized supplies. What? Oh, I have no fear that anyone from Polk County will ever read this blog and find out what you already know. They’re all computer power-users and their kids are all whizzes, so the information in this blog is as safe as if under lock and key. In fact, here is a picture of where I get the wire for the cross-bracing.
It will be a tight fit, but I’ve also planned out the complete production facilities to shoehorn into the white shed. Um, the wind blew the door off, so poke me in the ribs to get that fixed asap. I’m also careful to own all the consumables and purchase information, but that’s all proprietary, so mums the word.
I mapped out the direct materials requirements for a production run of 20 lanterns. That’s without the final part, the diffuser chimney, but this can be attached after the product is otherwise finished. The cash requirement is $130 for lumber, glass, and hardware. That includes the wire. There are some estimates, naturally. We are buying supplies at retail and nobody has sourced out some parts we could probably get for free. Agt. M wants to try leather hinges instead of brass and leather we have in deep piles. I’ve never seen a proper leather hinge, so no decision until I look it up.
This still leaves the materials cost too high. Based on the traditional formula, the lanterns would have to retail for $40 would have to be produced for around $1.48 each. In America, each layer of business (manufacturing, distribution, retail) brings its own set of impediments to the table, all wanting their cut. On-line was supposed to deal out the middleman, but all that did was exchange him for shipping and handling fees.
Nonetheless, this is still the best hope for a profit soon enough that others don’t get discouraged. Agt. R wants to sell on-line to other Civil War rendezvous sites. But like the hospital bed, has no clue of what is involved other than saying he’ll answer the phone when it rings. You can guess where the packaging and postage stamps, even the counter space and tape, will have to come from, can’t you? For that matter, if you even want to know how much the shipping will cost, get on your little red scooter and go find out. Unless you want to wait for someone else to do it.
You know, this reminds me of Theresa with her biz-card newsletter deal. She told me she had plenty of experience running this business, and even more experience selling the advertising. Remember that? I accurately told her I know nothing of that, but that I knew how to layout and produce the newsletters. So I faithfully composed and edited two or three editions, ready for her to get out there and sell the advertising. I even bought a laser printer. It turns out she had no clue about any of it, and when I asked her why she had not sold anything in two months, well, she said, because I hadn’t done anything, Pardon me? She was so clueless she figured the newsletters came from the tooth fairy.
[Author’s note: I concluded later she had no real management experience (or aptitude). She wanted me to set up an entire office and tell her what to do. So she could bitch and moan that I didn’t know how to do things. That, she and everyone she knows, would have plenty of experience at. I still said no, she told me she knew the business and she lied.]
“He’s praying for his hearing
which isn’t until next Thursday.”
Today’s meeting was quick, we went over the materials list and found no major obstacles. Well, except the space to do this. Agt. R’s yard is half again the size of mine, but every shed, building, garage, lean-to, and tent is already crammed full of really important shit. Hot or not, I tackle the shed this afternoon, getting a working counter set up. The floor will have to stay like it is, unfinished.
Then, I took the red scooter up to the new jam at the east club. Except, it isn’t new. It was Brad and his buddies holding their jam session in the bar instead of at his place. They actually played a few cover tunes, wonders. I had to talk to Brad anyway, the way he fixed the screens at his house means he can fix the windows here if I can’t do it on my own. I dunno, I put the windows back in the same size cut-out openings, but they stick out too far from the frame.
Now, there was a new gal working the bar, and we took an immediate shine to each other. Don’t you love it when that happens, the chemistry lights up and she instinctively walks into your arms, no resistance, with that “take me” look in her eyes. Alas, this was an almost. I leaned around and whispered in her ear if she was married, she said yes. And I don’t do married women. Hell, it’s a chore to get me to even touch a divorcee. Age difference here? Maybe 40 years. Around guys like me, age only makes a difference with really stupid women, and even then the difference is always one-way.
Once the jam reduced to old Clapton like blues riffs, less than an hour, I decided to have another at the downtown club. I had my scribbler to do some scribbling, since there are never any women in there. I mean single, skinny, attractive women. Don’t even ask for talented. But the all-girl band was there—in the audience, not on stage. I told the mother I was really disappointed. The band needs a bass player, not yet another and another guitarist. I already know the material, but this time the excuse was they forgot their e-mail password. Except, I had not e-mailed, she was supposed to call me.
Now get this. While worse acts have made it, they have been invited to Nashville for some kind of audition. I’d be careful. They are not anywhere near in that league and it would not be the first time some talent scout was in it for himself. Ask Roman Polanski. I see the marketing appeal, but talent-wise, these gals would be pawns in that game. I’d almost venture to say if they show up without even a bass-player who is on their side, they are basically rolling into Nashville empty-handed. And the wolves are gathering.
ADDENDUM
Skip this addendum unless you want to hear me bitchin' about the new guitar player. Once again, I'm been taken by a liar.
The critical third rehearsal is over. We got through an entire set. The cracks have already appeared in the foundation. Worse, they are all guitar player defects. The guy is still the best I’ve found in the area, so I’m going ahead anyway. I’d simply rather play in a band, even a bad band, than sit in the audience. However, that’s a sad endorsement for the quality of guitar players in this day and age. I mean, to get into a band only because you are all equally lousy, it totally sucks. You want details, I’ll give you details.
First, in a duo, you cannot play a sparse semi-rhythm or finger-pick. It might work okay on the radio but it doesn’t cut it at the dance hall. Yet every moron guitar player in the world will argue the point, not because he’s right, but because he wants to play what he thinks is fancy. That’s what I’ve got happening, however our agreement is in each tune you sing, the other guy has to play it the way you want. And of course, on my tunes I want a full flat-picking crisp, all six strings boom-chicka. Otherwise, getting on stage with me is probably not a wise idea.
The problem here is the same as every other guitarist I’ve met except Jag. They start of with a strong, committed rhythm, then revert to generic comping. They can’t keep a steady rhythm through the entire song. This new guy is so bad that he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. When you point it out, he argues instead of cleaning up his act. He claims playing a consistent rhythm bores the audience—but that’s exactly what he’s doing by comping. He also doesn’t spot it when he slows down—one of the sure fire reasons he wanted to use a drum box. And all amateurs think they play better if they like the song, which is a big part of remaining a amateur.
Also, he squirms when I want to pin down which version we are doing. He’s never sure, but I get it. He wants to play it the way he’s always played it. Learning new things was never an issue for him until he met me. However, I insist he plays my songs as arranged for duo work. He’s also squirmy by changing parts of the songs to fit the way he learned it wrong. Myself, I find it annoying when bands do that, but we are dealing with a guitar player here.
So, where is this going? Simple. He doesn’t realize what he’s getting into pulling these stunts on stage. Next to me, well, I don’t do any of those shortcuts or worn out guitar tricks. I know the trade. Audiences are far too sophisticated these days to get away with bad timing, wrong chords, and home-made riffs. The songs he plays are full of simpleton guitar parts that are not the way the song goes. I don’t mind customizing an intro or a solo, but to change the chord progression is a no-no. The audience will presume you are covering for an inability to play it the right way. They’re on to the tricks.
Worse, this new guy has a penchant for changing the very hooks and riffs that make the song unique. How do some guitar players get off on that wrong track anyway. Read my lips, there is a reason that riff is unique and hard to play. It’s called being a hit song. But, to get this project up and running, I’ll going along with these little changes—so when he’s singing it now sounds like two guys who don’t know how to play it right. He thinks that doesn’t matter, I think it is everything.
The band sound is already sub-optimal because of these factors. But what is different is I can front all my own songs as a bass solo. So far we have been trading vocals one for one. He sings on, I sing one. What happens he plays a thin, reedy accompaniment to a bass line that is all it should be. (Quite frankly, some of his tunes would sound better if he just sang to the bass.) Then it’s my turn and things get kicked into high gear, ah, now there’s a band playing. If this is evident in the practice shack, it will be blatant on stage. I hope he doesn’t get angry when it happens, because the usual bag of guitar player snits don’t work on me.
He also has timing issues, I don’t. I never change tempo on stage (unless it is rehearsed) and I don’t care if it makes the other guy look funny. He should pick up on day one that may timing is excellent and if he gets off beat, he can get back on without messing up the whole band. I’m just saying, watch for this is stage. Anything else? Yes, he also has a nasty habit of playing that single worn-out bass line walk up to the fourth on guitar. Dude, please don’t play bass parts in unison with me, or I’ll return the favor during your lead breaks. Do you have any idea how silly you look when a bass player can do your lead breaks better than you?
At the same time, he is content to let me play the guitar riffs to the songs that I can solo with, such as Tennessee Flat Top. But he remains weak on the concept of just playing a straight rhythm behind the other guy. He often tries to over-pick my bass breaks instead of sticking with his strumming. It sounds terrible. I can tell he is not practicing the right things on his own time, since he is not getting any better at simple accompaniment strums, still preferring to play chops better suited to backing up a guitar solo at the expense of the character of the song. After a while, you tire of explaining it and showing it, so you carry on, wondering if that wasn’t his intention all along.
I’ll spend an hour coming up with a custom bass line to a song that the audience is going recognize note for note, but he’ll not like it and insist we add in a IV-V turnaound which isn’t in the original. And of course, negates the bassline. That’s twice he’s done that by not agreeing which version we are playing. He keeps it a secret and sends me links instead of MP3s, knowing I have no use for links. And don’t even pretend you are learning music off a smart phone.
It was also scary how resistant the guy is to using the computer as a tool. He’s basically got a $2,000 toy and doesn’t want to read the user manual. He turned down all the advice and software I offered that I know is necessary to learn music properly. Such as Audacity, Zealy, and Ahead Nero or their Android equivalents. He even said he never makes song lists, but later slipped up and admitted he doesn’t even know how. He totally lied about being computer literate. He could not even find the file folder his wife set up for him. When I offered him a copy of every song I’ve ever played in a band (a small file around 200 songs), he said no, asking what would he need that for? Buddy, maybe because they aren’t links?
I’ve warned so many before—when you look like a fool next to me on stage, it's hardly my fault.
Last Laugh
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