One year ago today: August 31, 2020, careers were made.
Five years ago today: August 31, 2016, in excess of 50.
Nine years ago today: August 31, 2012, drowning in water.
Random years ago today: August 31, 2004, business as usual.
Australia day. How will they do, as they have now tipped off the authorities of their every move and location? I rooting for the people even if it take a miracle for anything to change. They’ve been complacent too long, too trusting, and just don’t seem to produce heroes when needed. Today I work on the overhead shelves. I have too much stuff on the floors around here. Mostly books, which are a terrible yard sale item. Once more, I see the birds are not feeding while I’m away, but there are three pairs of visitors whenever I’m around. Isn’t that odd?
The new band, “The Classics”, has been in touch again. They are serious musicians who have (merifully) gotten over the all-play-and-no-work phases. That’s something you gotta watch like a hawk. Those who want to play in a “fun band” have no intention of doing the leg work. Like the guitar player who can’t learn anything new, he’ll waste your time. I draw a stronger connection between band management and band performance than most, alas, this band wings a lot of issues that work better when planned. Getting gigs was where I excel, right back to when I was 13. Three bands I’ve managed [have] remained together all these years, none ever made money after I left.
I have not yet told these guys about Tennessee, only that I have commitments. As do they, the point here being they were prepared for a drawn-out session of working up a new bassist. Instead, they got me, we are ready to gig. However, the mismatch here is if I have to go back to Nashville it must be for six weeks minimum. I would not take on management of a five-piece band, there just is not enough demand for that much music anymore. The alternative is booking holiday gigs in advance until you have a circuit, then take up any opportunities as this industry always has cancellations.
The guitarist, for example, relied on his sister-in-law for a gig on October 23. Knowing that is too far in advance for a sure thing in Florida, I paid no attention. Sure enough, it cancelled. The community hall, purchased by their association for $1.3 million did not count on the corruption of the Florida code departments. They got hit with a requirement to add some kind of “safety door”, which will cost enough to prevent them using the place for a while.
Moments later, the Reb calls. She got me on the phone for a half-hour, that’s a record. She is keen on ingredients, it is because of her I read every label on what I ingest. I did not know that Big Pharma has label clashes. The example is two painkillers, each with differing side effects, which must be listed. The drug company does not want to compete with itself, so it will take the product with the worst side effects and print the same warning on both bottles. It takes a moment to understand, but once you see pills with half the box covered in warnings, or a radio ad with most of the air time listing the same, now we know.
Erosion in England.
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More band info, but that’s partially why you like this inside info. After some hours in the shed, just letting the world know how hard-working I am, I got out to Mulberry to get some material from the rhythm player. Turns out, some of the songs they gave me were a bit of a wish list. Good thing I picked that out, since I treat each song as prized and spend a lot of time on it. As before, the list is too long to specialize, and you can’t leave that factor alone. I thought of another million-dollar invention. A small system that clips on a mic stand and tells the other band members what chord to play next. Why not, the world has tried everything else.
We ran over two dozen tunes, ironing out corners that did not require the whole band present. It’s hard work. And the rhythm guy had a wrist injury that inhibits his acoustic playing. Dang! He sings most the songs nobody else wants to. He prefers to play the electric (as usual) which makes learning that much more difficult. We still got through fifteen tunes or so and I’ll say why this is important.
With a large band, if you try to make corrections or change anything, everybody has to get it. At the first session, I noted rapidly their approach to this was inefficient, but said nothing. If even one guy gets it wrong, the whole band stops until it’s worked out. Nor do they have the “practice” vocabulary to speed this along, which is usual. Take the song “Kansas City”, from their list. There are a dozen ways to play that wrong so it requires everybody agree on which version, a process that normally involves parts from several influences. You get the idea.
My approach is today’s method, where no matter how big the group, if two people do it right, the rest will semi-automatically agree. I’ve found this to be the best way because with music there is a tendency toward doing it right, though frequently diminished in guitarists. Another propensity, alas, is everybody wants to play all the time, I was the only one present who stopped at the designated points—which they noticed and said they would work on.
If I was to sum up what’s happening, I’d say this band has never had management and approaches the matter same as they would have in their teens. This is like letting me write my own ticket, music-wise. I’m just saying, if we were teens again, there would be no difference in the music, but I’d get all the babes. This is how I’ve lived my life. Scoring is the easiest thing to do, once you know how. What, your want a hint or two? Sure, it is no secret.
Here goes, I’ll tell you where to go, just not how to get there. I’m a nice enough guy, but I get weary besting unwelcome competition. A warning is due: after you get older, your problem becomes same as mine: too often getting approached by the wrong kind of women. Rule Number One: never, never, never mention sex to a new woman, no innuendos, no jokes, nothing. She’ll bring the subject up shortly. At that point, all you have to do is have a place (does not have to be fancy) and make it easy for her to say yes to you. She’s already said yes to herself. I figured this out in the eighth grade. Most men never learn.
And a word to the wise. Don’t make the opposite mistake of thinking the fancier place you have the better your chances. While this works on a certain class of women, it is expensive and unnecessary. I suggest there is a good chance I got more and better women all through my teens than Trump and his penthouse and so on. I'm saying those who got more paid for it in kind, and that is not better by definition. And at that point, the comparison breaks down. Oh, and if you must know, marriage is the ultimate price and, if you ask me, borderline desperation, age, or for show. BWAAAAA-ha-ha-ha.
ADDENDUM
To wind up the recent trip finances, we have a wee problem, entirely predictable. As soon as the Reb is in the picture, a new series of small transactions take place that, while on budget, are not timely recorded. We need some method to record the outgo in real time, but not conspicuously. Who remembers those tiny voice recorders? Don’t we have a box of them around here somewhere? Not only does Tennessee shift the budget but the logical increases are being hit by inflation. Food, for example, is double although the Reb gets all her own “health food”. Ooh, worth every penny of it. Where are those recorders? Those ones that say they are digital but really aren’t. Olympus.
