Movies/TV/Musicians: The Best and Worst

(DISCLAIMER: OK - this is my list, and my list ONLY. So don't grumble, OK?)

Watching movies or TV featuring musicians - either as "a band" in a particular scene or in the starring role - is generally painful. Why? For a few reasons: either the band is completely overacting ("guitar player's face" or stupid moves/head banging), the band itself defies the laws of physics (hey - that guy's playing an electric guitar, and he's SCREAMIN' on the solo! Nevermind there's no amp and cord!), or the band and the crowd look ridiculously fake. I suppose the director expects viewers to suspend disbelief, but still - c'mon. How difficult is it to plug a cord into a guitar?

Having said that, today's blog is my take on some of the best and worst "musician" movies and television. Keep in mind - the bad ones are bad because they look really, really, really fake or just plain lazy (the "missing guitar cord" syndrome). They're not in any particular order (EXCEPT the first movie of the "great" list - which is THE greatest rock and roll/musicians movie ever made), so read, bust out your Blockbuster card or crack open your Netflix queue and watch a few of these. Even the bad ones are good for a laugh.

KENNY'S "GREAT TV SHOW/MOVIE MUSIC" LIST

• A Hard Day's Night - Starring The Beatles. THE best movie about a band. Period. GREAT music, crackling dialogue, edits and cuts IN TIME to the music, terrific acting and genuinely funny moments (Paul's grandfather, on Ringo's big nose: "He can't help havin' a hideous great hooter. An' his poor head, tremblin' under the weight!"). Yes, I know, the guitars are unplugged - but in this case, it's OK because the movie's so great. TIP FOR WATCHING: Put on subtitles - sometimes it's hard to catch all the dialogue because of the English accents.
• That Thing You Do! - Starring The Wonders. Terrific movie for several reasons: a) the actors ACTUALLY PLAY THEIR INSTRUMENTS. They took lessons and after six months could jam with each other. b) Their song "That Thing You Do" gets BETTER as the play it more often - just like real music. c) When they start out they have crappy instruments (Danelectro guitars, etc.). As they become huge they get top of the line gear. d) The movie REALLY gets across the excitement of being in a band (the scene where they're played on the radio gives me chills every time). TIP FOR WATCHING: Notice the bass player has NO NAME! He's listed as "T.B. Player" in the credits.
• This Is Spinal Tap - Starring Spinal Tap. Friggin' brilliant. Friggin' hilarious. Friggin' ACCURATE. Eminently quotable ("This goes to 11," "D Minor is the saddest of all keys," etc.). TIP FOR WATCHING: Listen for the limo driver's under his breath comment when the band raises the privacy glass.
• Bird - Biography about sax player Charlie "Yardbird" Parker. Very dark and unrelenting, but terrific. The movie examines Parker's excessive drink and drug habits while celebrating his groundbreaking sax playing and his wife's patience and loyalty. TIP FOR WATCHING: They use much of Bird's actual recordings, mixed with modern musicians, in the soundtrack.
• The Blues Brothers - Starring The Blues Brothers. VERY funny movie (Princess Leia with a bazooka? Niiiiiice.) - and although I don't much care for Belushi's singing, with performances by Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, Cab Calloway, James Brown, John Lee Hooker (in addition to a backup band composed of Steve Cropper, "Duck" Dunn, Willie Hall, Tom Malone, Matt Murphy, Lou Marini and Alan Rubin) you CAN'T go wrong. TIP FOR WATCHING: The nun floating across the floor - it kills me every time.
• A Mighty Wind - Starring the Folksmen, Mitch and Mickey and the New Main Street Singers. Three folk groups from the 60s reunite for a memorial concert - and it's damn FUNNY. The folk singer portraits are completely accurate and some of the lines ("there was abuse in my family - of a musical nature") is coffee-spittin' hilarious. TIP FOR WATCHING: Notice the similarities between the Folksmen and Spinal Tap? You should - same guys.

Honorable Mentions - Help!, Ray, Almost Famous, The Commitments, Don't Knock the Rock, Let It Be, The Buddy Holly Story

KENNY'S "TERRIBLE TV/MUSIC MOVIE" LIST (a disclaimer within a disclaimer: The Patridge Family could have their own category here. Please consider them at the top of the "Fake Band That Looks Really Fake When Playing Fake Music" food chain. The Monkees don't count - although they barely avoided the 7th layer of hell by stealing every idea from "Help!" for their TV program, three of them were actual musicians. And, yeah - the show was kinda funny)

• Magical Mystery Tour - Starring the Beatles. All you pretentious "You don't get REAL art!" weenies pipe down - the Beatles are my favorite band, but this movie is a self-serving, ego-driven pile of guano. THIS is what happens when artists believe they're capable of creating ANY kind of art (see "Shatner - William" for more details). No - time hasn't been kind to this gack-inducing flick (though the music IS terrific - of course).
• The Lost Boys - Appearance by Some Vampire Band. Is it just me or does anyone else want to shoot a poisonous blow dart at the 'roid-filled drenched-in-grease leader of the vampire band at the beach rally? Yes, I know he's a real sax player (Tim Capello, who's played with Tina Turner among others - and he's a pretty good player), but please - covering yourself in Vasoline doesn't sell you as sexy. Plus, "Cap'n Geech and the Shrimp Shack Shooters" from "That Thing You Do!" are more convincing as players than this pink fro wig and Edgar Winter haired band of actors pretending to "really rock out" (they're head banging to a song that sounds as dangerous as Perry Como taking an afternoon nap). "Attention please. 'Out of touch director,' table for one."
• Any Episode of "Happy Days" Featuring Richie's Band - Yeah, Richie. You BLOW that sax, man, and when you do make that really serious "I'm blowin' a sax and creating art" face to REALLY sell it, OK?
• Heartbreak Ridge - Featuring an appearance by Stitch Jones, "The Ayotollah of Rock and Rollah." I love this movie, and shame on Clint Eastwood (who directed this as well as the aforementioned great "Bird") for allowing this painful musical interlude. Stitch is a guitar playin', sunglass wearin', rappin' and singin' fool who's singing with effects WELL over the din, plays a heavily distorted electric guitar WITHOUT a mic, PA, cords, an amp or - if memory serves - a friggin' BACKING BAND. Outside of that? Completely realistic.
• Under Siege - Featuring Bad Billy and the Bail Jumpers. Look - I like Tommy Lee Jones. He was great in "The Fugitive." But he's COMPLETELY fake as a harmonica-blowin' blues singer. "God, I love this job!" Yeah, whatever. You ever played a gig before?
• Any Sitcom From the 70s Through the Late 90s in Which a Lead Character Creates, Plays in or Buys Tickets for a Band. 'nuff said.

Honorable Mentions - Any Brady Bunch episode featuring "the Brady kids" as singers/musicians, The Jazz Singer (Neil Diamond version, natch - you know, the one where he DOESN'T SING JAZZ), Eddie and the Cruisers, Crossroads (Ralph Macchio version - and an aside: I like the fact the public at large gets to hear the term "cut his head" in the movie. What I hate is Macchio instantly becoming "a blues man" the first time his heart is broken. Puh-leeeeze)

&!$%@!*%!$ (Insert "F" Word Adjective) Gear!

Nothing's worse - outside of breaking off 1/3 of your front tooth during the last song of a gig (yes, I did that. Yes, I looked stupid. Yes, I had it capped. Yes, I'm more careful.) - than having your gear crap out on you during a gig/show. It's BEYOND suckage, and in my case - as a singer - there just ain't much you can do about it.

A few pieces of equipment are ABSOLUTELY vital to a lead singer. Let's get the obvious ones out of the way: a good mic, a good PA, a good mic stand - all must-haves if you're a professional vocalist. However, without a good vocal monitor a singer is SCREWED.

Here's why: when singing in front of a band, the singer CANNOT hear his or her own voice. Think about it - the singer's battling with electrified instruments (guitar, bass, keyboards) AND very loud acoustic instruments (drums). There's no way to yawp over the din.

The solution is vocal monitors - either in-ear or wedges (you've seen these. They look like little speakers on the stage). What I use is cordless in-ear monitors. I use Shure, with ear buds (resembling the headphones that come with most MP3 players) that plug into a little Altoid-box sized pack on my hip. The belt pack receives a signal from a base unit that's plugged into the PA. So, the PA sends the vocals to the base unit which - wirelessly - sends the vocals to the little Altoid box pack on my hip. This way, I hear all the vocals - lead and backup - and I never try to scream over the music and I can make sure my singing is dead solid perfect.

But what happens when something breaks? Remember when I mentioned "screwed" above? Last weekend I had the base unit crap out at a gig. I'm pretty sure it was the base unit, as I switched inputs AND frequency channels for the wireless stuff. My voice would just faaaaaaaade out and disappear. I swear, it sounded like the battery was going bad. So, I had to take the in-ears out and set the pack aside. I stood on the edge of the stage, hoping to pick up enough from the main speakers to keep me from yelling over the music.

See - that's the WEIRD thing. Even though you KNOW you shouldn't yell above the din, you JUST DO. It's some strange wired-in-our-DNA human thing.

The result? I woke up Sunday sounding like Joe Cocker. I was more hoarse than the winner of the last Kentucky Derby (thank you - I'm here all week. Try the veal). So, this week I'll be troubleshooting the base unit in the hopes that I can fix the thing.

SHURE - JUST GIVE ME THE SPONSERSHIP I'VE ASKED FOR AND WE'LL ALL BE HAPPY!

Music = Laughing = Release

Go time again...and here I am getting jacked up about playing music tonight and tomorrow.

Whether you play music professionally or not, it's a release. For me, it's almost like a primal scream - for example, we do "Everlasting Love" by Carl Carlton, OK? I hold a note prior to the last chorus as long as possible - for me, the song builds up to this moment. As I blast the word "love" I can feel my neck veins bulge as I do it, and I arch my back to REALLY pull the note from my diaphragm. Quite often I'm gasping through the last chorus - but God, does it FEEL GOOD. Like an ipecac or something, that note helps me rid myself of a week of toxic and poisonous bad feelings. That's a release.

However, although playing in a cover band is a biz, that doesn't mean you can't have fun doing it. Teachers laugh, as do construction workers, attorneys, janitors, bookkeepers and prison guards. There's nothing like having a good laugh in the middle of a song - either with one or more of my bandmates or alone - for releasing a gob of tension and stress. Where hitting the note I describe above is kind of like releasing poisons, a good laugh is more about releasing tension and looking at things from every angle possible. Laughing also keeps a musician young - and believe me, being boyish goes a long way towards taking the edge off a tough night of work.

Rock Soup

For the past few days I've tried to somehow write what it feels like when a band is really hitting on all cylinders - I mean playing TOGETHER, locked-in and deeper in the pocket than a piece of lint. It's four different guys starting with nothing (silence) and then creating one, singular thing.

I wanted to write about it but didn't want to get mired in melodrama or hyperbole - I'm trying to keep these blogs as lean and mean as I can - so I deleted the last two blogs I wrote.

Here's what I came up with, and - although it is a metaphor - it's a good description of when a band really gets locked into a tight musical groove. I'm sure we've all heard a variation of the rock/stone soup fable. The basic elements of the story are the same, but the end varies greatly depending on the protagonist (a starving soldier=idealism=good feeling, or a manipulative hobo=deciept=bad feeling). For the sake of a good vibe, we'll go with the soldier.

A starving soldier wanders into a village in the dead of winter. He goes door-to-door begging for food, but alas, the villagers are also poor and close to starving as well - it's been their worst winter in memory.

Discouraged but inspired, the soldier runs around town collecting scraps and pieces of trees and wood. Using his last match he starts a huge fire, and drags an enormous black iron pot he'd seen resting against the wall of a blacksmith's shop on top of the fire. He fills the pot with snow which melts and starts to boil.

Meanwhile, the villagers have collected around him and the pot of now-boiling water. Most think the poor soldier's lost his mind. It's then the soldier pulls a smooth stone from his pocket. He polishes the rock with snow, then drops it into the boiling pot of water.

At this point he pulls a long wooden spoon from his knapsack and begins stirring the water. The villagers, meanwhile, think he's absolutely crazy, but he continues stirring the boiling water. He then takes a taste of the water and says "This is the best rock soup I've ever had, but it needs something else...maybe a carrot and an onion..."

One of the villagers approaches the soldier, draws a deep breath of the soup's aroma and says "I have a carrot and an onion." A few minutes later he returns and adds the carrot and onion to the rock soup. After a few minutes of stirring, the soldier and the villager take a deep breath and the solder says "this smells wonderful - but some potatoes would really bring out the flavor." A few of the villagers reply they have potatoes at home, and soon they return with enough potatoes to fill the pot.

As the soup simmers other villagers add other vegetables, spices and soup bones to the mix. Finally, the soldier tastes the soup and said "Perfect!" Starting with the children, everyone has a bowl of this soup and all are warmed and filled by it.

Maybe playing music in a band begins with a rock. The rock, in a cover band's case, can be ego, personality conflicts, business concerns, audience apathy or scorn - but the band members, working together by adding something vital to the mix, make the rock irrelevant by unselfishly giving something of themselves to the whole. Four guys with four different flavors, tastes, spices and colors, adding to something larger than the individual. It's at that point a band transcends the ideal and - for a few wonderful moments - achieves the real.

That, my friends, is what it's like when my band REALLY nails it.

Jockey on Horse: "Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, Feelings!"

I look at playing cover music as a business - simple as that. It's no different than any other business out there - learn your craft and get good at it, sell your services, back up your promises, guarantee a quality deliverable and make sure your ROI is worth all the work. The interworkings of a cover band are part of that business, and - in a perfect world - the phrase "it's nothing personal" should hold more power than it does.

Anyway, when you're running a cover band, you carry those responsibilities like a concrete life vest, and it's a load, man. That's why keeping the band a business is crucial to the band's success.

When I played in bands as a kid I thought it was mandatory to have some kind of personal vibe with every member of every band I was in. As I've grown up I've realized that running a band with good, solid players with good attitudes is key - everything else is gravy. In other words, playing in a cover band means meshing on a musical and professional level - do that and the band's unstoppable. It's a bonus - but not mandatory - if you have interpersonal relationships with the guys sharing the stage with you.

There are reasons why a cover band should run as a business. Nevermind that musicians are transient to begin with (I honestly can't remember how many bands/people I've played with over the years!). As a writer-by-day and a cover band musician, I'm reminded of a great quote from "The Writer's Book of Wisdom:" "Writing is more craft than art." This certainly applies to cover music. Musicians are artists. Artists are ego-driven and sensitive by nature. However, a cover band - as I discussed in a previous blog - ain't great art. Working in a cover band is grinding out a nice finished product - it's more building the frame then painting the picture, and experienced cover band musicians realize the problems of mixing business and pleasure: hurt feelings, bruised egos, anger and resentment. That's the problem with letting "the personal" bleed over into "the business."

A good business succeeds when good employees do a good job, day in and day out. I've mentioned this a few times in prior blogs, but it hold true here: playing in a cover band means losing the ego and being professional - for the sake of the band, not the individual. It's about getting better so the business gets better. It's about doing what you're required to do - nothing less.

So - I guess it's kind of obvious (duuuhhh!) that when it comes to a cover band I'm a businessman and a perfectionist. What I do know is this: keeping THE business A business means I can address any Gomez Addams-like trainwrecks that might occur during a gig - and do so with a clear conscious.

A Good Starting Point for Karma...

It's not part of the gig - and completely unexpected - when the people who hire you treat you with a healthy dollup of kindness and generousity. It's a treat, and goes a long way towards making a professional musician feel pretty good.

Why isn't treating the band with kindness part of the gig? Simple - a band-for-hire is like a waiter or a busboy, a valet or a custodian. We ain't rock stars. We don't have possies leeching off us or personal assistants scheduling our next record signing or photo op. We're, essentially, hired help, there to perform a service as professionally and mistake-free as possible - to create some atmosphere, bring some smiles, get people feeling good and then split without being conspicuous. The event is NEVER about the band, much like it's NEVER about the waiter, or the busboy, or the girl serving bread or the waitress bringing you the next round.

It's cool, though. We know this. We accept it.

However, this weekend, we were treated like kings - veritable rulers of the universe, so help me. It was totally unexpected, completely wonderful and appreciated far beyond what I can type here. Needless to say from Martin the security guard at Metro Pointe telling me that he told the bigwigs in charge of MP that "Your band is the best band we've seen here - they're in for a treat!" to Chris, representing the Fountain Valley Pony League, bringing us water, Gatorade, lunch and offering to throw our trash away (!) - while hopping on the mic to remind the crowd how lucky they were to have Party Jones at the event...

...man. Kindess. Plain old NICEness, for no other reason then to BE nice. In that respect, this weekend really got to me - touched me. It's the whole "pay it forward" thing, I suppose. Showing kindness when it's not required is always a good starting point for karma. I hope the gang at Metro and the folks working for the Fountain Valley Pony League have massive amounts of good things happen to them this week and for many weeks after.

Thanks, you guys.

Go Time

It never fails - the weekend starts, I have gigs, I'm fired up.

Strange.

Seriously!

I've been playing live music since I was 14, and I STILL haven't lost that pre-gig excitement. Even when things aren't going right outside or inside a band, the thrill of making music and entertaining people hasn't gone away. In fact, as I've gotten older it's increased.

Strange.

Seriously!

Without sounding too pompous or over the top (although I KNOW it's gonna), I'm going to quote John Constantine from the movie "Constantine" - a movie I really dig, by the way: "Heaven and hell are right here, behind every wall, every window, the world behind the world. And we're smack in the middle." He also said "Officially, I was dead for two minutes... but believe me, two minutes in hell is a lifetime. " I think every professional musician in the world relates to those quotes, regardless how high in the food chain he or she sits. Even at my standard cover band/play the circuit/do the corporate events, personal gigs and other functions level, there's a lot of angst, heartbreak, frustration, disappointment, conflict, humiliation and downright deep-in-the-bones fatigue I go through.

But - no matter what - when it's go time, I STILL get excited about the possibility of tearing up some music with three other guys. I STILL anticipate the challenge of seeing a group of fresh faces who demand I keep them entertained - who stare at me with "So, what do YOU got?" I STILL appreciate the opportunity to do something that, really, a fairly small percentage of our world's population can and does do. I STILL can't wait until the first count-in to the first song of the night.

Strange.

Seriously!

Fans? Nope...Friends.

Professional musicians operate on several different levels. I'm going to simplify this because I could probably sub-compartmentalize it to DEATH, and who wants to read that? Anyway, you have:

• The big timers who've become part of our lexicon (U2, Rolling Stones, etc.)
• The support players for big name acts - touring the world
• Four kids driving cross-country in a van, living on peanut butter sandwiches and doing 300 gigs a year in 300 different towns
• Cover musicians doing various gigs

Three of the four normally have a built-in fanbase - that much is obvious. But in looking at my career as a cover musician I can honestly say this: even though I can play music because of hours upon hours of practice, accumulating contacts, becoming experienced enough to handle specific gigs/crowds, learning a zillion and one songs, keeping myself healthy, staying positive and interacting with really good musicians, I'd never be able to play one note outside of my garage...

...if it wasn't for the people who've supported me and the band.

These wonderful, giving and caring people are NOT Party Jones "fans" - not even close. They're "friends." People who, to see the band, make schedule changes, find babysitting, get in the car and drive awhile, scramble for a good seat, spend money at the restaurant and the bar (keeping the till spinning!) and bragging to management how good the band is. They also bring friends/relatives/relations to the gig, recommend the band to their bosses or event coordinators and generally make a room feel really "up" and postitive.

So - my relationship with those terrific people is a bit convoluted. I'M a fan of THEIRS, not the other way around, and believe me when I say I'd be playing the stereo in my garage rather than playing gigs in Cabo, Big Bear and at the Long Beach Grand Prix if it wasn't for them.

My friends - thank you for continuing to give me the opportunity to sing for you.

Close Eyes. Throw Dart.

As I've previously blabbed, a cover band musician needs to check ego/self-indulgence/attitude at the door and consider what makes the PEOPLE happy. That's why song selection is key to getting a working band a good gig.

I built Party Jones as a dance/pop/soul/R&B/"hits" cover band. Why? To get people dancing, of course - to tickle their brainstems with a nice memory about a song, to make them happy. Bigger picture, this would give us more gig options (corporate functions, personal events, holiday celebrations) and give me more selectivity when booking club dates. I'm not ripping club work - at a good club the energy, crowd proximity and acoustics are sweet - but there's only so far you can go on the circuit. A working cover band musician aims for the bigger gigs mentioned above.

However, streamlining a band means making hard choices song-wise. As I said before, a cover band musician gives him or herself over to playing songs that make THE CROWD - not the musician - happy. As for me, after so many years of regurgitating classic rock pablum for smaller and smaller crowds/gigs, I was ready to tailor an accessible cover pop band appealing to the broadest range of people possible. (ASIDE: muy importante' - I'm in NO WAY disparaging cover bands performing classic rock. John Lennon sang "Whatever Gets You Through the Night," and that sums it up. There are a lot of great classic rock cover bands out there - it's just not the road I choose to take.)

Although some classic rock songs do cross over into "pop" territory, and can work at a high-end corporate gig ("Brick House," "Honky-Tonk Woman," "Play That Funky Music," "Brown-Eyed Girl"), most don't, and instead become exercises in self-indulgence, familiarity and ease of playing for a band. Right away, this breaks (my) Rule #1 for a cover band - play FOR the people, not TO them.

So - how to pick songs that work for the majority of the band's gigs? It's an inexact science - like a dart throwing contest between Stevie Wonder and Jose Feliciano - but swaying the odds in your favor just takes a little gumption. I do homework. I've pulled a ton of songs from shows like "VH1's Number Ones" - and every song WORKS. They're popular and dancible, and were written to appeal to a wide range of people. Next, thanks to a great suggestion from Rob Ferrell (PJ's drummer) I also download a TON of "Most Popular Requests at Weddings and Functions" lists from the internet. I cross reference these lists and see which songs the lists have in common. Doing this has given me ideas I NEVER would've considered - and again, they work ("Love Shack," "Faith," "Walking on Sunshine," etc.). I also check out other bands I admire and see what's working for them. And you can't miss with one-hit wonders - and we'll be learning a gob of those before long.

After a few gigs, I'll know if a song is working or not. I inserted "You Give Love a Bad Name" into our set list, and it only lasted about six weeks. It didn't go over. It's now buried with Hoffa.

Finally, playing a dorky song is FUN if the band's behind it. As mentioned countless times, my cover band isn't built to placate the musicians, but that doesn't mean we can't have fun playing a song we may not like. If the band's attitude is good, everything else is good.

If the band's attitude sucks...?

That blog's coming, my friends.

...But it's a REALLY GOOD Paint-By-Numbers

Anatomy of a cover band, continued: I have no problem whatsoever playing ANY cover song, whether I like the song or not. You give yourself over to that when you decide to play in a cover band. The only difference, band-to-band, is how committed you are to placating the audience, what sort of venues you want to play and who your target audience is.

I've always looked at cover music like a paint-by-numbers painting. You know, I can spend big bucks on top of the line art supplies - paint, brushes, a nice easel - the whole works. When I bring home a high-quality paint-by-numbers Mona Lisa palette, I can agonize over each color, every brush stroke, the paint's consistency, the lighting in the room - all of it. And when I'm done I can say I've completed something that looks pretty nice.

However, at the end of the day the thing's still a knockoff of Leonardo Da Vinci's timeless classic. All I've done is recreated it the best I can to - hopefully - make the people who happen to see it happy.

Cover music's the same way. We, as cover musicians, aren't creating anything from scratch. We're doing our best to recreate the original for one reason: to make people happy. Sure, a band can place its stamp on a song, but by and large the template/boilerplate of the song was created by someone else. You're just trying to do the original justice, and by doing so you're giving the audience something THEY want - not what the MUSICIAN wants. That's the nature of cover music.

In my career as a professional musician I've had countless disagreements with musicians who think playing certain popular songs - songs the people coming to see you and the people paying you WANT to hear - is "selling out." I can't tell you how many times I've heard "that song sucks" or "I hate disco" or "I'll NEVER play that song" or "I don't want to do that - it's too lame/wimpy/insert YOUR adjective here." That attitude boggles my mind. So - you're saying a paint-by-numbers picture of a unicorn has LESS artistic merit than a paint-by-numbers of the Mona Lisa? You see where I'm going with this?

A cover band is built to make people happy, which in turn keeps the band working. Cover band musicans must relinquish ego for the good of the band and the crowd (ASIDE: although relinquishing ego is a must, a GOOD cover band has a swagger and cockiness about it - a confidence that says "we can knock any song out of the park - we're good players and love challenges. We'll play ANY cover song, cheesy or otherwise, and it'll BURN"). Exceptional musical competency, quality equipment, "up" or good attitudes, experience and a flair to entertain are MUSTS in this sort of band - but when the smoke clears, it ain't great art.

As for me - I satiate my artistic side and the need to create by following my muse and writing and recording my original music in my home studio (THAT blog is coming soon - ye gods). As for playing cover music, I have no problem whatsoever with doing ANY song, if that song gets the job done. After all - there's a reason it's called a "cover" band.

Tell Your Plumber That When He's Fixing Your Sink

I love hearing this: "Music isn't work. It's your passion." Subtract the word "music" and replace it with "plumbing," "driving a cab," "waiting tables" or "pouring concrete" and you'll see how downright stupid that phrase is.

Take it from me - a guy whose day gig is working 50 hours a week writing and editing copy - running a band and playing music is work.

BUT FIRST, A DISCLAIMER: These are my (Kenny's) thoughts. I can't speak for the collective hivemind of every musician on the planet, so don't go looking any of this up in "How to Run a Cover Band 101." Fair enough?

Anyway, nevermind the fact that I, as a working musician, have spent years practicing, learning, falling, failing, struggling and ultimately trying to do my damndest to get it right (most times I feel like I never will). In addition to trying to be a good, solid musician, running a band means I'm scrambling to book gigs, fighting tooth and nail for fair pay, desperately working to engage the crowd ("Are you not entertained?!" screams Russell Crowe in "Gladiator," and notice - his tone is sarcastic and cynical), keeping the owners rolling in clover, making sure the clients and their guests dig the band, keeping the PR machine (web page, mailing lists, promo packages, pictures, videos, musical recordings and - hey! - a blog) running smoothly, dialing in the PA, updating the calendar and notifying the band/booking agents/club owners about changes, feeling the pressure as I pray the band not only has a good attitude but knows the material (because, since I booked the gigs I'M the band's face - and if a band member decides to throw 'tude at a manager or another authority figure, it's MY reputation and I have to go crawling to said authority figure with apologies/explanations for boorish behavior), being the lightening rod for the band's criticism of the venue/money/etc. and staying friendly with all of my contacts.

All of that is draining enough and there've been hundreds of times I've wondered "Why didn't I just join a pre-built band looking for a singer and let someone else deal with the headaches? I'll plug in, sing, get paid, leave and wait for the next gig." But wait! There's more!

I play in a four-piece band (voice and three instruments) - four musicians with completely dissimilar personalities. What can you expect when four different people try to create one sound? Arguments, tantrums, disagreement over the band's direction, apathy, an almost complete absense of culpability, power struggles of varying shapes and sizes, carelessness, a surplus of self-importance coupled with a lack of humility and a steady stream of grumbling and whining. It sounds like marriage, doesn't it? Except for the fact that - again in my case - it's four guys in the marriage, not two.

Ah - so now you're saying "Kenny, you narcissistic weenie. Bitch, bitch, bitch. If you hate it so much, why run a band? Why play music?" Two part answer here. The "running the band" part is because I have goals I'd like to meet while playing in a cover band, and - frankly - I'm tired of following someone else when I trust my own instincts and judgement. Also, I walked away from a really successful combo to completely start over and do exactly what I wanted to do. I'm the guy behind the curtain, grinding out most of the thankless crap work in addition to doing the singing. The band may not be named after me but it sure has my name ON it. By default, that makes me the captain.

Which means...what? It means if a group of guys share this outlook we work together. If not? No worries - allegedly, we're all professionals. I've had disagreements with plenty of musicians about musical projects, and that's OK - we agree that I'll follow my road, they can follow theirs and (in most cases) we shake hands and part ways as friends. Live and let live - you do your thing and I'll do mine, and let's not tell the other how to do it. Sting summed it up perfectly when he called a band a "benevolent dictatorship." After playing music professionally for 27 years I'm just now understanding exactly what he meant.

And the music part? If it's such a headache - if doing all the work, grinding out the thankless tasks to make an easy road for others and getting beat up by elements outside AND inside the band is such a hassle - why do I do it? Simple - it takes years for a grain of sand to become a pearl. It takes immense pressure for a chunk of coal to become a diamond. Anything beautiful and worthwhile -no matter how fleeting - is the result of hard work and heartache.

Next, I really, really, REALLY enjoy playing music that makes people happy. There's nothing like seeing people smile when a certain song is played, or seeing two people in love slow dance to a favorite song. It's a rush when a packed house shouts in unison when busting into the first few bars of a really popular song. That, and playing live music has blessed me with many genuine and wonderful friendships. You can't put a price on that.

But ultimately - and again, I'm sounding narcissistic - it's not like I have a choice about wanting to play music. I write and edit copy to make a living. I play music to live.

Drunken Doofuses Control Space and Time?

What's great about playing in a cover band (by "great" I mean "more sucky than Dracula at a 'Hey, Look! Everybody's Comatose and Can't Move But They Still Have Healthy Blood!' convention") is when you're hitting the finish line - you know, the end of the night - and things get weird. You've left everything on stage because you refuse to cheat the crowd. You feel like a wrung-out dishcloth. The people who've been there with you all night, like National Guardsmen, taking up arms with you, are exhausted as well. Further, they've taken time out of their schedules to come see you, to buy drinks at club, and generally rally around your band (in my case, Party Jones).

So you're sweating, you're exhausted, your knees feel like two overripe grapefruits and you're busting into the second to last song. And then...

Duh Duh DAAAAAAH! Here comes the drunk, angry fat guy stumbling through the front door and wondering when you're going to "get the party started!" And then it hits you - alcohol actually FREEZES TIME! That's my theory, anyway - this guy's been knocking back one Colt .45 after another at some one-room bar that smells like hot vinyl and wet dog and time stopped for him. Then, he decides he's going to go see some live music, but the minute he sets down his last drool-encrusted mug - TIME STARTS AGAIN!

So, when he stumbles into Petes on the Beach and sees Party Jones finishing up the night, this poor, inbred freak has no idea that he's actually mastered time and space. All he can do is wave his hands (like Coco the gorilla saying "I love you!") and slur "you're not done! Keep playing! C'mon, keep it going!"

This frightens me. Where's Stephen Hawkings when you need 'im?