Ah, here's the question to end all questions if you front a band: where do you rights as a singer - and the crowd's rights to be a part of the show - begin and end?
Singing in a band means you've got to connect with the audience. If not - if you don't excite them, get them happy, or crazy, or melancholy - you won't have the gig for very long. Normally, if you're dedicated to what you're doing, connecting to the audience is fairly simple. The crowd already had built-in memories for the songs, and most times we're talking about DECADES worth of music and memories. Being sincere gets you there, and it's a really great feeling connecting with people who - generally - you don't know.
...and that's where the problems begin.
Now, I normally enjoy it when people coming up to me in mid-song to sing along, or play tamborine, or just hang with the band. After all, if it wasn't for the client, I wouldn't be there. Still, there's something about trying to keep my personal space - aka the stage, my work area - relatively open. On stage, I move a lot, swing my arms, my mic stand, throw the tamborine in the air, etc. If nothing else, I don't want to hurt anyone with an inadvertent elbow to the kidney.
Most people understand this, and I do as well - so when I invite someone on stage, I know this person is in control of his or her faculties. However, when the hootch is calling the shots, people come up and start doing things that - well, aren't too smart. I've had people try to pull the mic out of my hands, bash into my mic stand (which, in turn, causes my mic to smash me in the mouth), start having a conversation with me - while I'm in the middle of singing a verse! - etc.
Does it ever get dangerous? Well, not life-threatening or anything like that, but when a person is completely incapacitated, and he or she is trying to walk around all the gear, cables, mic cords, etc. - yeah, I'd say that's an accident just waiting to happen.
So, you can see where that fine line between entertainers and entertainees sits. I guess this is one of the reasons I normally go out TO the crowd. I'm committed to tearing down that "I'm the band and you're forced to listen" wall between musician and listener, so when I'm out there with them they become a part of our music making.
And I always want the crowd to remember that. I'm no different than they are...but sometimes, I just need a little space to prove it.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The Science of Peeking
Man - there are a LOT of good cover bands out there.
Yeah, there's a ton of terrible ones, but there's a gob of really good ones. When I find the rare few minutes to actually do some research on the 'net, I like to snoop around the websites of working bands like mine. I download the MP3s, watch the MySpace/You Tube videos, read the bios and check the play lists. Putting all of that together helps me understand the general personality of the band, what their goals are and how they see their role as entertainers. It also helps me understand the market and our competition (though, to tell the truth, most of the good, working bands are pretty friendly with one another. It falls under my "very exclusive club" rule. I have some terrific friends in a number of bands, and I know a member or two of my band has the same).
So, much like I do for tracking down good songs to play (more on that tomorrow), I cross reference the good bands and check for patterns or similarities. Is there one or two things across the board that make a band good? Unsurprisingly, the ones who sound the best and who get the good jobs have loads of things in common:
Yeah, there's a ton of terrible ones, but there's a gob of really good ones. When I find the rare few minutes to actually do some research on the 'net, I like to snoop around the websites of working bands like mine. I download the MP3s, watch the MySpace/You Tube videos, read the bios and check the play lists. Putting all of that together helps me understand the general personality of the band, what their goals are and how they see their role as entertainers. It also helps me understand the market and our competition (though, to tell the truth, most of the good, working bands are pretty friendly with one another. It falls under my "very exclusive club" rule. I have some terrific friends in a number of bands, and I know a member or two of my band has the same).
So, much like I do for tracking down good songs to play (more on that tomorrow), I cross reference the good bands and check for patterns or similarities. Is there one or two things across the board that make a band good? Unsurprisingly, the ones who sound the best and who get the good jobs have loads of things in common:
- Corporate/casual bands look corporatey. Again, as mentioned in my last blog, having a look doesn't mean wearing matching jumpsuits. Still, we live in a visual age - and as much as the rebel and artist in me doesn't dig it, the corporate musician and businessman does. Now, if the band is an 80s hair metal tribute, we know what the look should be. Same with a southern-rock band, etc. However, for a general cover band, playing a wide range of songs, it goes without saying that being groomed, looking clean and wearing clothes that are sharp or hip is vital to getting better gigs. Yes, folks, it's about the music, but it's about the eye candy, too.
- The players rarely make mistakes. I've gone to a club to watch some of the good bands - and subbed in quite a few - and I can tell you the pros are solid, week in and out. Think about it - a cover band plays a large part of its repertoire every week, so if nothing else redundancy should eliminate the mistakes. And, although I've played in many bands and the attitude is "well, the crowd didn't notice it," I don't buy that. Maybe not at a CONSCIOUS level, but - normally - the crowd is more astute than that. A listener might think the band sounded better "last week" on a particular song when, in fact, the playing was identical except for a few well-placed errors.
- The members are social with the crowd and the client. People want to know you're interested in what they have to say. Clients want to know you respect them enough to do the things they ask - even if it's five minutes before downbeat. Don't bitch about the trouble to make it happen - just make it happen.
- There is no drama, fighting, power struggles or passive aggressiveness on stage. The crowd and the client don't think you're cool, or funny, or edgy/sarcastic if you mumble "fu&%ing great" under your breath but in the mic. They just think you're unprofessional. Save the BS for breaks, and do it outside of client/crowd earshot.
- Playing the correct songs - no way to skimp here. My last post, and a few before it, talk about this in great detail. Quit snivelling that "YMCA" is beneath your artistic standing - if it is, quit the cover band and go make great art. Otherwise, play for the crowd - not TO them.
- I'm thoroughly convinced having a female player helps - a lot. I've tried two female players in this band, but for various reasons neither worked out. Still, having a female vocalist who doubles on an instrument REALLY increases a band's song repertoire - and visual appeal, as well.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Eye of Newt, Toad's Heel And a Nice Chicken's Claw
OK - so, singing for four hours straight isn't the most natural thing in the world - especially when you're running around like Bobo the Circus Chimp, jumping up and down, running around the club/hall and generally snapping your body side to side because it looks cool. I'm telling you, the throat takes a pounding - and the occasional adult libation (aka Crown on the rocks) certainly doesn't help matters.
But, in a cover band, that's what a singer does for two or three nights in a row. For me, it becomes even nuttier because the range of stuff we do - from Sinatra to Marvin to Def Leppard - means my vocal box gets battered around like martini mix in a shaker. Sing LOW. Sing REALLY HIGH. Sing "Sweet Caroline." Sing "Any Way You Want It." AGH!
So for singers, it's often difficult to be 100% night in and out. If a guitar player gets the flu or a sinus infection, it normally doesn't affect his playing. But ask ANY singer about sinus, throat, flu or lung issues - and man, we'll cry you a river right then and there. Unfortunately for us, our instrument is completely organic, and we can't pull it out, tweak it, put a new battery in it and place it back where it came from.
I've taken to trying various home remedies to get the ol' moneymaker back in fighting form before the next gig. It's funny - I've spoken to doctors, voice teachers, other singers and consulted the internet, and it seems NONE of them agree on what works best. The one thing they DO agree on is drinking room-temp water is a must - before, during and after the gig. This I do, religiously.
I also do something else that works pretty well for me during a gig I chew a piece of gum and suck on a throat lozenge. Yep - I do both WHILE singing! It's kinda hilarious, and there've been times I've accidently swallowed the gum or lozenge - or both! - but it really helps. The lozenge soothes the throat while the gum causes me to swallow, keeping the throat "wet." Plus, I have nice breath during breaks - now THAT'S a value add!
The next day, I've got a routine that REALLY works great for getting rid of "Joe Cocker" throat:
But, in a cover band, that's what a singer does for two or three nights in a row. For me, it becomes even nuttier because the range of stuff we do - from Sinatra to Marvin to Def Leppard - means my vocal box gets battered around like martini mix in a shaker. Sing LOW. Sing REALLY HIGH. Sing "Sweet Caroline." Sing "Any Way You Want It." AGH!
So for singers, it's often difficult to be 100% night in and out. If a guitar player gets the flu or a sinus infection, it normally doesn't affect his playing. But ask ANY singer about sinus, throat, flu or lung issues - and man, we'll cry you a river right then and there. Unfortunately for us, our instrument is completely organic, and we can't pull it out, tweak it, put a new battery in it and place it back where it came from.
I've taken to trying various home remedies to get the ol' moneymaker back in fighting form before the next gig. It's funny - I've spoken to doctors, voice teachers, other singers and consulted the internet, and it seems NONE of them agree on what works best. The one thing they DO agree on is drinking room-temp water is a must - before, during and after the gig. This I do, religiously.
I also do something else that works pretty well for me during a gig I chew a piece of gum and suck on a throat lozenge. Yep - I do both WHILE singing! It's kinda hilarious, and there've been times I've accidently swallowed the gum or lozenge - or both! - but it really helps. The lozenge soothes the throat while the gum causes me to swallow, keeping the throat "wet." Plus, I have nice breath during breaks - now THAT'S a value add!
The next day, I've got a routine that REALLY works great for getting rid of "Joe Cocker" throat:
- I keep loud speaking to an ABSOLUTE minimum. I never push the voice too much after a gig and before another.
- I'm sipping water all day - ALWAYS at room temp, never cold.
- Around noon, I make a hot cup of this great throat tea I picked up at Henry's Market. I put a gob of honey and lemon in it, then drink it down.
- I follow that with water.
- About two hours before showtime, I drink another cup of the aforementioned tea, honey and lemon concoction.
- Finally, I go off by myself and warm up before the show - by talking, then singing vowel sounds at low and then high keys.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
A Cover Musician's Responsibility
Let me get this out of the way first:
MY DREAM BAND WOULD: Play the entire Sam Cooke, Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, Sinatra and Beatles (including the solo stuff) catalogs. I'd have a really fat horn section, at least three backup singers and a true piano player - someone who could play Sinatra's "One for My Baby" without accompaniment, and we'd turn down the lights as I sang the ultimate closing song with nothing but the piano.
OK - now let's get real. Playing in a cover band means performing songs that aren't actually your favorites - and trust me when I say that's a NICE way of putting it. Not only that, songs you really DO love get a bit tired after playing them for 25 years.
But still, that's what the gig is. For me, I write and record original material at my home studio, and understand my responsibility as a cover band leader. It's like church and state - keep 'em apart, man.
It's like this: a cover band functions to play FOR people, not AT them. Too many cover musicians act like asshats when they're asked to perform a specific song for a specific crowd. Unfortunately, the battleground is often on stage, which is incredibly unprofessional. A cover musician GETS PAID TO PLAY SONGS THE CROWD/CLIENT WANTS TO HEAR.
Read after me - the sky is blue. Water is wet. Cover musicians play songs the crowd/client wants to hear. Why is that so difficult to understand? Why can't cover musicians realize that they're getting paid to play music - who cares if it's a cheesy pop song?
It's also a cover musician's responsibility to cater to the client - NOT the other way around. Some guys seem to think the client owes them something ("who's buying our beer? Why don't I get dinner?), when, in truth, we get paid to perform fun music with a smile on our faces. Most of the gigs I book for my band are pretty fat - normally the money is really good - so anything else is a blessing, NOT an expectation! If the client offers dinner, that's awesome - but I sure don't expect it. After all, I don't see the waiters getting their meals provided by the client.
Catering to the client also means showing up looking good. I'm not one to put my band in matching jumpsuits or anything, but delivering a good product means delivering a good look. For the love of God, how difficult is it to shave, get a decent hair cut, put on a sharp shirt and clean pair of pants? It's all a tax right off anyway! Keep the receipts - I do.
Sometimes. the client does the best it can do for the band. The accommodations aren't always five star. The end time isn't always perfect. The start time may be bumped back an hour. So what? You're there, right? You're contracted for this, right? My band just did an outdoor gig, and the client provided a gas generator that sounded like my old lawn mower. They didn't provide lighting, but asked us to play until well after dark. Now, the money was terrific, and the actual amount of playing time ended up at around two hours. If you can't find the humor in performing "Let's Get it On" in the dark while it sounds like someone's mowing his lawn - brother, go to the store and rent some perspective. Point? The client normally works hard to do right by the band. Appreciate it - and shut up.
As I get older, I'm realizing that the guys I want to play with need to check their voracious egos at the door, and get on their knees every night to thank God about the opportunity to make money while playing music. The population of the world, as of this minute, is 6,720,577,538. How many of those play music? How many of THAT group play music in front of people? And how many of THAT group play music in front of people and make money for it? You see where I'm going with this? It's a SMALL percentage of humankind that's able to perform music for money. Quit bitching about it. Revel in it. Drink it in, like a really good glass of wine. Mostly, appreciate it. If you can't - just don't do it.
MY DREAM BAND WOULD: Play the entire Sam Cooke, Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, Sinatra and Beatles (including the solo stuff) catalogs. I'd have a really fat horn section, at least three backup singers and a true piano player - someone who could play Sinatra's "One for My Baby" without accompaniment, and we'd turn down the lights as I sang the ultimate closing song with nothing but the piano.
OK - now let's get real. Playing in a cover band means performing songs that aren't actually your favorites - and trust me when I say that's a NICE way of putting it. Not only that, songs you really DO love get a bit tired after playing them for 25 years.
But still, that's what the gig is. For me, I write and record original material at my home studio, and understand my responsibility as a cover band leader. It's like church and state - keep 'em apart, man.
It's like this: a cover band functions to play FOR people, not AT them. Too many cover musicians act like asshats when they're asked to perform a specific song for a specific crowd. Unfortunately, the battleground is often on stage, which is incredibly unprofessional. A cover musician GETS PAID TO PLAY SONGS THE CROWD/CLIENT WANTS TO HEAR.
Read after me - the sky is blue. Water is wet. Cover musicians play songs the crowd/client wants to hear. Why is that so difficult to understand? Why can't cover musicians realize that they're getting paid to play music - who cares if it's a cheesy pop song?
It's also a cover musician's responsibility to cater to the client - NOT the other way around. Some guys seem to think the client owes them something ("who's buying our beer? Why don't I get dinner?), when, in truth, we get paid to perform fun music with a smile on our faces. Most of the gigs I book for my band are pretty fat - normally the money is really good - so anything else is a blessing, NOT an expectation! If the client offers dinner, that's awesome - but I sure don't expect it. After all, I don't see the waiters getting their meals provided by the client.
Catering to the client also means showing up looking good. I'm not one to put my band in matching jumpsuits or anything, but delivering a good product means delivering a good look. For the love of God, how difficult is it to shave, get a decent hair cut, put on a sharp shirt and clean pair of pants? It's all a tax right off anyway! Keep the receipts - I do.
Sometimes. the client does the best it can do for the band. The accommodations aren't always five star. The end time isn't always perfect. The start time may be bumped back an hour. So what? You're there, right? You're contracted for this, right? My band just did an outdoor gig, and the client provided a gas generator that sounded like my old lawn mower. They didn't provide lighting, but asked us to play until well after dark. Now, the money was terrific, and the actual amount of playing time ended up at around two hours. If you can't find the humor in performing "Let's Get it On" in the dark while it sounds like someone's mowing his lawn - brother, go to the store and rent some perspective. Point? The client normally works hard to do right by the band. Appreciate it - and shut up.
As I get older, I'm realizing that the guys I want to play with need to check their voracious egos at the door, and get on their knees every night to thank God about the opportunity to make money while playing music. The population of the world, as of this minute, is 6,720,577,538. How many of those play music? How many of THAT group play music in front of people? And how many of THAT group play music in front of people and make money for it? You see where I'm going with this? It's a SMALL percentage of humankind that's able to perform music for money. Quit bitching about it. Revel in it. Drink it in, like a really good glass of wine. Mostly, appreciate it. If you can't - just don't do it.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Spiritual, Complex, Humble
My band did a gig Friday night - the usual rough and tumble affair! - and, oddly enough, didn't work the rest of the weekend. Of course, this made me very itchy, so on Sunday, I drove to a jazz club to check out an old friend of mine - a keyboardist who played with me in a band in the mid 90s. I hadn't seen this particular guy for about 13 years (!), but had very fond memories of him as a person AND a superior musician.
Wow. What an unbelievable way to spend three hours. I heard some amazing and exciting jazz and fusion music, performed by players who were skilled AND gifted - now THAT'S a scary combination. Through it all my friend smiled and sang, while the band performed complex, challenging music with no rules or restraints.
The band was comprised of heavy hitters, guys with VERY fat resumes. Trust me when I say you'd be BLOWN AWAY if I told you who these cats had played with. My keyboardist friend gave me the lowdown on each guy, and I knew I was in for a great night of music. However, if you walked up to them and talked to them you'd never know who they played with or what they've done. The best guys - the cream of the crop - are humble and reserved. They don't tell you about their lives, which top 40 hit maker they played with, how many times they've toured the earth. Instead, they sit back and let their music do ALL the talking. Spend any time with great musicians and you learn one very true thing: the best musicians in the world are the ones who just lay it down. They don't need to talk about it.
When I spoke with these guys on break they were humble and unassuming, more interested in my time playing with my friend then in telling me about their lives. There's another telltale sign you're in the presence of greatness. These guys take more interest in the other person - they want to know about YOU. They don't brag about gear, or endorsements, or hits or any BS. Let me put it this way: when some dude tells you he's spent $8,000 on his bass - before you hear him play one note - run away, quickly.
Anyway, I told each of them that listening to what they were creating was more than moving - it was spiritual, in the way that great music IS. Each one of them said "thanks" in such a humble way, I'm convinced that they KNOW how powerful their playing is, but they feel equally as blessed as the listener by it.
I know I was. Thanks guys.
Wow. What an unbelievable way to spend three hours. I heard some amazing and exciting jazz and fusion music, performed by players who were skilled AND gifted - now THAT'S a scary combination. Through it all my friend smiled and sang, while the band performed complex, challenging music with no rules or restraints.
The band was comprised of heavy hitters, guys with VERY fat resumes. Trust me when I say you'd be BLOWN AWAY if I told you who these cats had played with. My keyboardist friend gave me the lowdown on each guy, and I knew I was in for a great night of music. However, if you walked up to them and talked to them you'd never know who they played with or what they've done. The best guys - the cream of the crop - are humble and reserved. They don't tell you about their lives, which top 40 hit maker they played with, how many times they've toured the earth. Instead, they sit back and let their music do ALL the talking. Spend any time with great musicians and you learn one very true thing: the best musicians in the world are the ones who just lay it down. They don't need to talk about it.
When I spoke with these guys on break they were humble and unassuming, more interested in my time playing with my friend then in telling me about their lives. There's another telltale sign you're in the presence of greatness. These guys take more interest in the other person - they want to know about YOU. They don't brag about gear, or endorsements, or hits or any BS. Let me put it this way: when some dude tells you he's spent $8,000 on his bass - before you hear him play one note - run away, quickly.
Anyway, I told each of them that listening to what they were creating was more than moving - it was spiritual, in the way that great music IS. Each one of them said "thanks" in such a humble way, I'm convinced that they KNOW how powerful their playing is, but they feel equally as blessed as the listener by it.
I know I was. Thanks guys.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Can a Cover Musician Communicate His Politics?
I'm a political person and I love my country. I'm also a liberal, and have been as long as I've been voting (and before I COULD vote, too). So, it should come as no surprise that I've been pretty miserable for the past seven plus years as I've seen the country I love and cherish almost capsize under the weight of a soulless, power-mad and murderous administration. For over seven years our leaders - in particular our stupid and vindictive (and how's THAT for a dangerous combination?) president and his Antichrist vice president - have made a mockery of our nation. Our reputation, here and abroad, is in shambles, while their words have spiraled into a cacophony of lies, hate, scandal and arrogance. It's appalling.
Here's the very, very, very, very tippiest tip of the iceberg:
Now, you may or may not agree with my views, but we can all agree that here - in this blog - I'm free to state my opinions. Ah, but therein lies the rub: can I state my opinions while performing with my cover band?
Remember, a cover band ain't great art, nor does it perform original music. A cover band's purpose is to entertain, to excite and thrill and to take the audience on a walk through happy memories. So, as a singer who's also involved in the political landscape of our nation, I constantly walk that tightrope of keeping it light but expressing myself about the country, and world, around us. For, although I'm paid to entertain, I'm also a functioning human being who looks at the world and strains to deal with the emotions modern times brings.
At a gig a few weeks ago there were two soldiers, on leave, in the club. These guys were kids - KIDS, I'm telling you - no more than 20 years old. Yet, they were two weeks away from going back to Iraq to fight a war our president and his cronies orchestrated to solidify their hold as the first true American monarchy, to satiate their blood and oil lust and feed money into the coffers of those smart enough to hitch a ride on their wagon (war reparations, my friends, is a great business). This is a war we never should've started and certainly shouldn't be participating in now, yet we continue to sacrifice our young to this beast with no remorse nor recompense.
So - yes, on mic I spoke up about these two, stating that whether the crowd was against or for the war they NEED to be for these soldiers - these KIDS - and we NEED to get them home to their country, their families and their lives.
I wanted to say more, but good sense took hold and I simply told the two they were heroes to me. Shortly after that the band kicked into "Pink Houses," and I interjected the word "war" into the line "It's the simple man that pays the bills, the thrills, the WAR that kills." (ASIDE: if you think "Pink Houses" is a good ol' tune about great ol' America, read the lyrics a bit more closely. Neither it, nor Springsteen's "Born in the USA" are glowing reviews of the country's machinations and what it's become, though many people think they're both fist pumping "America! F&$k Yeah!" anthems. Newsflash: they ain't.)
And so? Am I any closer to figuring out if I have the right to communicate politics while performing with a cover band? I think the two examples above are as far as I SHOULD push it, and I have my original music to best make my point without pissing off the people who write the checks to pay for quality entertainment.
Still...I often wonder if, considering the circumstances, our lives in this world, the future of our children and our planet...
...I wonder if, sometimes, pushing the boundaries and shaking people out of the fog is worth having the boss shove a finger into my face.
Here's the very, very, very, very tippiest tip of the iceberg:
- Walter Reed patient treatment
- Firing of US attorneys for political reasons
- The outing of covert CIA agent Valeria Plame
- The "war" in Iraq (WMDs? WTF?)
- Halliburton's no-bid contracts/cronyism
- And where IS Osama Bin Laden?
- Blackwater - "private security contractors," AKA mercenaries with no accountability
- The Military Commissions Act: torture, indefinite detention and the end of habeas corpus
- Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, the destruction of New Orleans, the complete disregard for the black and poor, FEMA, "Heck of a job Brownie," "So many of the people in this arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this is working very well for them"
- Warrantless NSA wiretapping
- Homeland security: using fear to keep America in line and question free
- Abu Ghraib torture
- Tom Delay indicted for conspiracy to violate campaign laws
- Mark Foley, chairman of the House Caucus on Missing and Exploited Children sending sexually explicit messages to pages
- Larry Craig "going to the bathroom"
- Global warming? What global warming?
- Tax cuts for the wealthiest, for corporations and on capital gains
- Astronomical deficit, vastly increased national debt
- Immigration issues
- Healthcare?
- A growing poor and upper class and a shrinking middle class
Now, you may or may not agree with my views, but we can all agree that here - in this blog - I'm free to state my opinions. Ah, but therein lies the rub: can I state my opinions while performing with my cover band?
Remember, a cover band ain't great art, nor does it perform original music. A cover band's purpose is to entertain, to excite and thrill and to take the audience on a walk through happy memories. So, as a singer who's also involved in the political landscape of our nation, I constantly walk that tightrope of keeping it light but expressing myself about the country, and world, around us. For, although I'm paid to entertain, I'm also a functioning human being who looks at the world and strains to deal with the emotions modern times brings.
At a gig a few weeks ago there were two soldiers, on leave, in the club. These guys were kids - KIDS, I'm telling you - no more than 20 years old. Yet, they were two weeks away from going back to Iraq to fight a war our president and his cronies orchestrated to solidify their hold as the first true American monarchy, to satiate their blood and oil lust and feed money into the coffers of those smart enough to hitch a ride on their wagon (war reparations, my friends, is a great business). This is a war we never should've started and certainly shouldn't be participating in now, yet we continue to sacrifice our young to this beast with no remorse nor recompense.
So - yes, on mic I spoke up about these two, stating that whether the crowd was against or for the war they NEED to be for these soldiers - these KIDS - and we NEED to get them home to their country, their families and their lives.
I wanted to say more, but good sense took hold and I simply told the two they were heroes to me. Shortly after that the band kicked into "Pink Houses," and I interjected the word "war" into the line "It's the simple man that pays the bills, the thrills, the WAR that kills." (ASIDE: if you think "Pink Houses" is a good ol' tune about great ol' America, read the lyrics a bit more closely. Neither it, nor Springsteen's "Born in the USA" are glowing reviews of the country's machinations and what it's become, though many people think they're both fist pumping "America! F&$k Yeah!" anthems. Newsflash: they ain't.)
And so? Am I any closer to figuring out if I have the right to communicate politics while performing with a cover band? I think the two examples above are as far as I SHOULD push it, and I have my original music to best make my point without pissing off the people who write the checks to pay for quality entertainment.
Still...I often wonder if, considering the circumstances, our lives in this world, the future of our children and our planet...
...I wonder if, sometimes, pushing the boundaries and shaking people out of the fog is worth having the boss shove a finger into my face.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Amazed, Proud, Cocky and Thankful
I'm not sure if I believe in epiphanies. As a temporary game changer, maybe, but as a permanent, life-changing experience? Not so much. After all, human beings are creatures of habit.
(Extremely) general example: let's say you have a near miss, a 502 meant for you. You slip through - even though you've been pounding Scotch all night long and your blood level equals Otis and Foster Brooks combined. You may temporarily quit drinking well before driving, but as a professional musician I've seen the old habits creep back to those blessed with a divine mulligan.
Or maybe you committed to a diet because your favorite pair of jeans are SO tight people can read the date on the quarter in your back pocket. So you start the diet, build some momentum, but eventually your friends start putting the plate of nachos too close to your fork hand, and...
Why am I blabbing about this? Because I might've had something approaching an epiphany, but maybe it was more of a "you've been drinking $200 wine out of a golden chalice and you're CHUGGING, dude!" If you've read any of my stuff here you know my band is pretty good. Solid. Dependable. We don't always get along, but by and large I knew I'd put together a tight, professional group that, thanks to our variety and skill, was able to get some good work along the way.
However - and I mean this honestly - I saw how really, really good, how versatile and amazing this band was last Saturday night. Now, keep in mind, when something's great over an extended period of time, it's easy to take it for granted (if you've ever had a relationship with a smokin' hot, generous and kind person you know exactly what I mean. John Lennon always said "Be Here Now," and as a grown musician and man I'm starting to GET IT.). Sometimes, efficiency equals complacency, and when a band keeps humming along you forget exactly WHAT it is you're accomplishing night in and out.
Seriously - being a part of something really good is almost dangerous. Slipping into the malaise of efficiency and dependability blinds you to the sparks and the fire of the creation itself.
So, here I am last Saturday, playing to a packed house in Sunset Beach. We're seconds away from downbeat, the band and the crowd's really up, the vibe is good - and I take a glance at the set list I'd put together earlier in the day.
The first fifteen minutes of music include:
Moon Dance (at about 150 BPM to make the thing swing HARD)
All My Loving
Every Little Thing
50 Ways to Leave Your Lover
The Way You Look Tonight
Signed Sealed Delivered
Seriously - that's absolutely nuts. A three piece with voice slipping from Jazz to 60s pop to 80s pop to Jazz/pop to Sinatra/big band to Motown?!
And this is just a small piece of the night. My Girl? Pour Some Sugar on Me? Le Freak? Love Shack? I Want You Back? American Pie? Everlasting Love? Slide? Come and Get Your Love? Spectrum, meet the other side of the spectrum.
So, there I was, right before Rob clicked in time for the first song, and it hit me: we're not just a good cover band - we're a DAMN good cover band, one that adapts and creates and plays whatever's necessary to make the gig happen. And not only do we play the stuff - we NAIL it, right to the wall, and then show it to the crowd like showing neighbors vacation pictures. It's crazy, and it's wonderful, and it's something many other bands just CAN'T do.
By the way, I'm not disparaging other bands - far from it. What I'm saying is my band's become so good at doing what it is we do it's become routine, and the spectacular and impossible's become commonplace to me.
But not after Saturday. Thanks, guys.
(Extremely) general example: let's say you have a near miss, a 502 meant for you. You slip through - even though you've been pounding Scotch all night long and your blood level equals Otis and Foster Brooks combined. You may temporarily quit drinking well before driving, but as a professional musician I've seen the old habits creep back to those blessed with a divine mulligan.
Or maybe you committed to a diet because your favorite pair of jeans are SO tight people can read the date on the quarter in your back pocket. So you start the diet, build some momentum, but eventually your friends start putting the plate of nachos too close to your fork hand, and...
Why am I blabbing about this? Because I might've had something approaching an epiphany, but maybe it was more of a "you've been drinking $200 wine out of a golden chalice and you're CHUGGING, dude!" If you've read any of my stuff here you know my band is pretty good. Solid. Dependable. We don't always get along, but by and large I knew I'd put together a tight, professional group that, thanks to our variety and skill, was able to get some good work along the way.
However - and I mean this honestly - I saw how really, really good, how versatile and amazing this band was last Saturday night. Now, keep in mind, when something's great over an extended period of time, it's easy to take it for granted (if you've ever had a relationship with a smokin' hot, generous and kind person you know exactly what I mean. John Lennon always said "Be Here Now," and as a grown musician and man I'm starting to GET IT.). Sometimes, efficiency equals complacency, and when a band keeps humming along you forget exactly WHAT it is you're accomplishing night in and out.
Seriously - being a part of something really good is almost dangerous. Slipping into the malaise of efficiency and dependability blinds you to the sparks and the fire of the creation itself.
So, here I am last Saturday, playing to a packed house in Sunset Beach. We're seconds away from downbeat, the band and the crowd's really up, the vibe is good - and I take a glance at the set list I'd put together earlier in the day.
The first fifteen minutes of music include:
Moon Dance (at about 150 BPM to make the thing swing HARD)
All My Loving
Every Little Thing
50 Ways to Leave Your Lover
The Way You Look Tonight
Signed Sealed Delivered
Seriously - that's absolutely nuts. A three piece with voice slipping from Jazz to 60s pop to 80s pop to Jazz/pop to Sinatra/big band to Motown?!
And this is just a small piece of the night. My Girl? Pour Some Sugar on Me? Le Freak? Love Shack? I Want You Back? American Pie? Everlasting Love? Slide? Come and Get Your Love? Spectrum, meet the other side of the spectrum.
So, there I was, right before Rob clicked in time for the first song, and it hit me: we're not just a good cover band - we're a DAMN good cover band, one that adapts and creates and plays whatever's necessary to make the gig happen. And not only do we play the stuff - we NAIL it, right to the wall, and then show it to the crowd like showing neighbors vacation pictures. It's crazy, and it's wonderful, and it's something many other bands just CAN'T do.
By the way, I'm not disparaging other bands - far from it. What I'm saying is my band's become so good at doing what it is we do it's become routine, and the spectacular and impossible's become commonplace to me.
But not after Saturday. Thanks, guys.
Monday, January 21, 2008
My Muse: The Kinda Good Friend Doesn't Know When to Leave
When I'm not playing music with my cover band, I'm writing and recording for my first completely solo album. Writing and recording while balancing a day AND night gig is difficult, at best. When inspiration hits it's crucial to record it someway, some how, before it leaves.
Most times my inspiration, and the results of it, are - if not controllable, at least predictable. Outside of a lightning bolt here and there, my inspiration is the result of working an idea over and over and over again - almost like stirring a bowl of frozen ice cream until it's more like a shake.
Which brings me to an interesting point about creating music: lately, my muse has arrived AFTER I've worked myself to death and just about given up on creating anything remotely interesting. But now that she's here, WILL NOT LEAVE.
Case in point: over the past week I've made more progress on four songs than I have in the month prior. Worked out arrangements, instrument structure, melodies and harmonies and reasonably strong first mixes. I don't really write and record like this - it's generally a lengthy process, taken one small step at a time.
Now, it's almost like something switched on in my head and WON'T shut off. My muse is like the girl who comes over for a visit (and you're happy to see her), but she just doesn't know when it's time to leave your house. The creative process and the possibilities of what the songs are, what they can be and what new songs are on the horizon is RELENTLESS. I simply cannot shut down the gears.
Now the process is picking up speed - I'm playing the stuff over and over in my brain during my DAY gig. Figuring out changes. Refining hooks. Changing chords. It's great, but maddening at the same time - kind of like hitting a geyser and watching the stuff explode 100 feet into the air with no way to control it, catch it or shut if off!
The good news? Suddenly, I can say - as unemotionally and business-like as possible - I can see the finish line for my record.
Believe me when I say I'm not complaining, but there are times I'd like/need to turn the muse off - even if only for a day. Sometimes, my brains needs a break. Processing information non-stop is fatiguing, and one thing I DON'T want is to get sick of my own work before it's finished.
But, as noted above, I normally don't work this way, so brothers and sisters, I'm riding this mother of a wave until it crashes on the rocks.
(End of April for the record? Looks like.)
Most times my inspiration, and the results of it, are - if not controllable, at least predictable. Outside of a lightning bolt here and there, my inspiration is the result of working an idea over and over and over again - almost like stirring a bowl of frozen ice cream until it's more like a shake.
Which brings me to an interesting point about creating music: lately, my muse has arrived AFTER I've worked myself to death and just about given up on creating anything remotely interesting. But now that she's here, WILL NOT LEAVE.
Case in point: over the past week I've made more progress on four songs than I have in the month prior. Worked out arrangements, instrument structure, melodies and harmonies and reasonably strong first mixes. I don't really write and record like this - it's generally a lengthy process, taken one small step at a time.
Now, it's almost like something switched on in my head and WON'T shut off. My muse is like the girl who comes over for a visit (and you're happy to see her), but she just doesn't know when it's time to leave your house. The creative process and the possibilities of what the songs are, what they can be and what new songs are on the horizon is RELENTLESS. I simply cannot shut down the gears.
Now the process is picking up speed - I'm playing the stuff over and over in my brain during my DAY gig. Figuring out changes. Refining hooks. Changing chords. It's great, but maddening at the same time - kind of like hitting a geyser and watching the stuff explode 100 feet into the air with no way to control it, catch it or shut if off!
The good news? Suddenly, I can say - as unemotionally and business-like as possible - I can see the finish line for my record.
Believe me when I say I'm not complaining, but there are times I'd like/need to turn the muse off - even if only for a day. Sometimes, my brains needs a break. Processing information non-stop is fatiguing, and one thing I DON'T want is to get sick of my own work before it's finished.
But, as noted above, I normally don't work this way, so brothers and sisters, I'm riding this mother of a wave until it crashes on the rocks.
(End of April for the record? Looks like.)
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Hungover w/o Drinking a Drop (Alternate Title: Your Shoes and Socks Don't Match)
My band and I finished up '07 with a New Year's gig in Newport. Both the drummer and I were sick as dogs - he had some kind of stomach bug, while I got clobbered with an upper respiratory infection that clogged my sinuses, throat, lungs and windpipe with gunk (GREAT news for a singer). Still, going into the gig I was pretty excited about the venue and performing on New Year's Eve. It's always a good gig.
'07? Hm. Not so much.
I'll start off by saying the venue itself, the owner and the support staff were top notch. Every person working there was very cool. And, although load in was kind of tough (upstairs with no elevator), the band pulled together and we got the gear in and out in a reasonable manner (again considering no elevator). The band members and the music were both in good spirits.
The kinda sorta issue was the crowd. I have to say, in all my years of performing, I had no answer for the crowd. The average age was early 50s through crypt-keeper, and though we threw every swing and older-ish song at them we knew, I still got criticized for "not playing enough cha-chas!"
Verbatim, by the way.
Now, I have absolutely nothing against cha chas, classic west coast swing, the Charleston or boogie woogie. In fact, we have a few of those in our musical bag of tricks. However, the set list I put together encompassed swing, faux jazz and then soul, R&B and pop from the 60s through the 90s. I mean, we were to open with "Slide" and crank out "Rock and Roll All Night" at midnight for God's sake! So, there I was, tearing through an old "complete" and "updated" song list (which wasn't either), trying to figure out what could work with this crowd.
Ultimately, we resigned ourselves to slow-burn music and accepted the multiple crickets that greeted us at the end of many songs with a sense of humor born from playing countless gigs like this through the years. Uncomfortable? Yes. Unexpected? Definitely. Unparalleled? No way. Unprofessional? Never - we pulled together and pulled it off like a solid cover band does.
Now, a few of the tables there were definitely very nice, friendly and high energy, and that allowed us to bust out some old-school disco and other kind of non-threatening dance music. Still, the room and the night didn't move the way I wanted it to, and that was a bit frustrating and, ultimately, had me shaking my head and thinking of mismatched socks.
Which means? Well, next time I prepare two completely different set lists and the band creates an even BIGGER bag of up tempo dinner music. This type of thing is a challenge, and - once the headache passed - I made up my mind to nail the next "huh? That's the crowd?" gig to the wall.
'07? Hm. Not so much.
I'll start off by saying the venue itself, the owner and the support staff were top notch. Every person working there was very cool. And, although load in was kind of tough (upstairs with no elevator), the band pulled together and we got the gear in and out in a reasonable manner (again considering no elevator). The band members and the music were both in good spirits.
The kinda sorta issue was the crowd. I have to say, in all my years of performing, I had no answer for the crowd. The average age was early 50s through crypt-keeper, and though we threw every swing and older-ish song at them we knew, I still got criticized for "not playing enough cha-chas!"
Verbatim, by the way.
Now, I have absolutely nothing against cha chas, classic west coast swing, the Charleston or boogie woogie. In fact, we have a few of those in our musical bag of tricks. However, the set list I put together encompassed swing, faux jazz and then soul, R&B and pop from the 60s through the 90s. I mean, we were to open with "Slide" and crank out "Rock and Roll All Night" at midnight for God's sake! So, there I was, tearing through an old "complete" and "updated" song list (which wasn't either), trying to figure out what could work with this crowd.
Ultimately, we resigned ourselves to slow-burn music and accepted the multiple crickets that greeted us at the end of many songs with a sense of humor born from playing countless gigs like this through the years. Uncomfortable? Yes. Unexpected? Definitely. Unparalleled? No way. Unprofessional? Never - we pulled together and pulled it off like a solid cover band does.
Now, a few of the tables there were definitely very nice, friendly and high energy, and that allowed us to bust out some old-school disco and other kind of non-threatening dance music. Still, the room and the night didn't move the way I wanted it to, and that was a bit frustrating and, ultimately, had me shaking my head and thinking of mismatched socks.
Which means? Well, next time I prepare two completely different set lists and the band creates an even BIGGER bag of up tempo dinner music. This type of thing is a challenge, and - once the headache passed - I made up my mind to nail the next "huh? That's the crowd?" gig to the wall.
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