One year ago today: November 21, 2016, the phone company plus 20.
Five years ago today: November 21, 2012, Marathon Key.
Nine years ago today: November 21, 2008, Hillsboro Antique Mall.
Random years ago today: November 21, 2013, there is no convenient route.
People keep asking me how I found the Grand Ole Opry. Well, I walked into this big red building, see photo. Somebody handed me a coupon for $1 off toilet paper. At that point I kind of just knew. So, how was the show? I quickly spotted something was missing when the house band started to play—the nuances. And that’s my goal this morning. I want to define something about live performances. It is always admirable to hear a professional band at work, yet is there such a thing as too professional? That’s a judgment call. Myself, I’m leery of playing to spec.
One thing I do that others may call a trick of the trade is to play the mistakes. After hearing the Opry, I am now intent on intensifying one of my trademarks—to leave nothing out that makes the song unique. Often, that is a mistake in the studio mix. This was one factor I incorporated before; now I’m cranking it up to include it wherever I can. I learned a lot at the Opry last weekend.
Some examples would be Wilson’s “Red Neck Woman”. If you listen to it right now, I’ll bet I hear around twenty bass notes you didn’t even know were there. It is also a sloppy recording and an even messier form got onto the Internet. That intro is clipped and you can hear the overdubbed riffs. So, guess which version I play? Because that’s the sound most people have heard.
The second example is Jenning’s “Good Hearted Woman”. I take immense pride in playing what others miss. This is the classic tune that everybody in the world plays wrong, but only a bit. So listen up, you heard it here first. The song is in the key of D, which happens to be one of the open strings on a bass. Yet no matter how that D is played, everybody gets it wrong. I’ll bet I’ve got some people’s attention because you know darn well there is just something different about that D, isn’t there? And I’ll tell you.
Here’s the professional way to play it. Fret the D on the A string, got it? Now using a plectrum like all good bassists, play that D note, but ‘accidentally’ barely pluck the open D string. Ah, hear that characteristic sound? Both D notes are sounded together and they are never quite in perfect tune. Keep holding the fretted D and let both strings ring as you use the same technique on the fifth, or A note. Aha, so that’s it! Don’t expect to get the right feel first try, but now you’ve got that Waylon sound. Eighty dollars please.
I see some of you are miffed because you missed that sound for years, so I’ll make it up to you with another stage technique that puts coin in your jar. Same song, but after the modulation to E, and that verse, there is an octave shuffle for the turnaround, listen for it. It’s just double time octave E notes, but what you do is stomp your heel on the floor just enough to get people turned around to see what’s going on, don’t overdo it.
I’m booked for a Thanksgiving gig in town. In the south end, where there are no country bands. It’s a private house party of mostly acquaintances, a truly forgiving crowd. Actually, I said yes because what’s-her-name will be there. Dang, now I have to practice. You must check back in, really. In keeping with my self-imposed mandate to play only crowd-pleasers, I’m working on the idea I’m about to say. Tell me what you think, but don’t squawk if I’ve said this before. These things take time.
Have you ever noticed how the crowd that is otherwise unresponsive will join in to sing a song that has nonsense lyrics? Na-na-na and la-la-la will get them singing. No way I’m first, but I’ve been putting together a string of these that should fire up the crowd. It isn’t easy. Try to remember ten of these songs, or worse, try to find ten more on the Internet. I’ve got the easy ones like “Centerfold” and “Games People Play”. The rest you gotta help with or I’ll take all the credit.
Russian State Library.
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Ah, the aroma of roasting chicken. With apples, celery, and onion. That means I was housebound most of the day catching up on paperwork. And there’s a pile of it, just tedious stuff. Now I can’t give you details of a situation in motion, but here is something interesting. An incomplete reply from a law office that just changed its name. I’m not an attorney but I know that certain things have to be done right and one of them is the rather complicated procedure of assigning mortgages. I stress I do not know how it is done, but I know I sent a letter on behalf of a club member asking for the complete paper trail from beginning to end. And the reply does not even mention two or three intermediary steps. Who do I know that needs some pro bono time?
Next, I go over some of the county tax notices. That’s neat, the value of this same property dropped from $102,230 in 2008 to $81,582 in 2009. Looks like Polk County has its own little ups and downs. Usually things don’t swing so much out in the countryside. (You are looking for the orange circles, the assessed value.
Another thing I’ve never seen is “Sex and the City”. I take it this was some kind of television series. It seems like that’s the mentality it would appeal to. I dropped it into the player, saw no babe actresses, but I got the impression it was TV-grade from listening to the audio. Women who mechanically use sex to get a relationship, am I right? The ones who can’t understand why the marriage goes south once the sex becomes routine. I was baking so I glanced at the screen whenever I went down the hallway. Ew, those creepy scenes of older married couples French kissing. This has got to be for television.
Do thirty-something women really squeal like schoolgirls if they get a marriage proposal? I’ve dated a few who were obsessed with marriage as a way to solidify a relationship. They didn’t last long. I have the empirical view of marriage, that it is a legal contract with every clause written against the husband. I’m reminded of this gal I dated; I’ve probably mentioned Sharon before. She lived with this guy for twelve(?) years, some unemployed guy (“he was an artist”). Now she was back on the market, 35-ish or so, tired of playing house and looking for a real husband. You know, the kind that when he leaves, she at least gets half of something.
Myself, I’ve always dated rich girls who had no reason to go after my meager possessions when it came time to part ways. Judy’s dad was a wealthy orthodontist, Robyn came from old money, Angel’s father was heavy into city real estate. I guess if I met such a gal again, marriage would be an option. I hardly have enough time left for anything to go wrong. But I shun the type who see the ceremony as their backup plan. God’s sake, by the time you get married over 30, you should have your own affairs in order.
Say, did I tell you about my buddy’s ex’s newest line? That’s the one he broke up with ten years ago but she keeps phoning him saying things like she just got her mesothelioma settlement, the check is in the mail, it will be here next week. So could he lend her $200 until it arrives? This time the story is her mother had a change of heart and accepted her back. Why, mommy dearest paid the rent a year in advance, happy times are here again, could he just lend her $200 until the check arrives? Yee-haw.
ADDENDUM
Remember the big book I talked about? Here’s your photo, this is the one I got for 75¢ because it is a paper back. I thought twice how cold it was that day and stopped into the Music City Thrift, out in Woodbine, that’s the one with the old ladies who follow you around. The pages are not numbered, but you got around 1400 pages here. Printed by Motorola in 1968, it’s more proof of my statement that nothing new has been invented in electronics since the transistor and its spinoffs. The info in the book is still completely relevant.
Shortly after that, I went to Joe & Moe for a chai latte. The staff gets asked about it but are instructed to keep it a secret. It’s some brand of powder mix which they lace with a bit of nutmeg. Of course, I was scoping the women. Some ten or twelve came and went. One was okay but her girlfriend was, to coin a phrase, the 1400 page paperback version. One half-decent one came in, followed by her killbillie boyfriend. For me, the place was like being young again, being only concerned with whether a woman is sexy or not, never a thought about if she’s my type. It’s hard-wiring, millions of years of it. Sure, you can grow up, as they say, and choose your mate based on other factors. Factors that are superbly well-contended in the divorce courts.
In my DVD collection, I have some collections of TV show episodes. They can be hard to follow if you have not seen the series from the start. Today, I tried to watch “Sex and the City” and it is borderline nauseous to me. The premise is pretty obnoxious to start with, but couple that with some middle-aged actresses screwing around like they were in college, that was too much. Then again, I just got back from a town of real women, so I’ll set this one aside and try again later.
But this remake of “Get Smart”. Come on, you indolent pack of millennials, you can’t even come up with something better than that on your own. Lord help us all when you take over the country. It won’t be by brains, it will be by brute force. There’s so damn many of you and you’re all entitled to be President.
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