The Economy of Scale(s)

Perhaps you've heard that we as a society are in a little bit of a quandry, cash-wise. Apparently, someone loaned someone like me enough money to buy a house, and I did buy the house, and even though I make my way-overinflated payment each month, it is not enough to keep the economic system from total collapse. So just let me say how sorry I am that I have ruined the economy, and I'll try to do better with my second home.

But really, isn't it kind of fun to watch capitalism as we know it come to a crashing and fiery end? And listen to the presidential contenders hue and cry about what to do? And listen to the endless list of pundits, who can't contain their own drool over a story this big? And watch as people in the money pits look more and more desperate when the DOW reaches a new low? 

Me, I have no idea what all this means, or how it relates to me, or otherwise I would also be afraid. Meanwhile, I'm going to trust that, like most everything else in life, this is a story that will one day be superseded by another story that seems newer and more important and we'll all forget this story until ten years from now, when it will be recalled in some "Ten Years Ago" news special. 

But then I wonder -- if this is truly an economic crisis, what does that mean for those of us on the fringes of the economy? And by that, I mean musicians? And those who cater to same? Is there any profession more poised for economic collapse than a working musician? If you make all your dollars playing music, then chances are this is a particularly scary time. Musicians live off the largesse of the elite. Such has it always been. While record companies may have replaced royalty as musical patrons, nevertheless musicians are as reliant as ever on the whims and desires of those who pick up the tab. The wealthy and the rich throw lavish parties. These parties are the source of significant crumbs thrown to fortunate musicians who are hired to play these parties. There are corporate gigs, weddings, bar and bat mitzvahs, birthday and anniversary bashes. . . the list goes on. These are the things that make up the primary income of most working musicians. And when the economy is not happy, these parties tend to shrink, if not evaporate all together. And when they shrink, the party planners of the world generally opt for the DJ over the live band (which, by the way, is always always always a horrible idea, and never ever make this mistake yourself, should you be a party planner). 

Fewer dollars in an already lonely pocket mean fewer dollars to spend on guitar straps, guitar strings, guitar polish, or guitars. And of course amps. Cords. Picks. 

And it's not like the musical instrument business is roaring already. 

So when times get tough, they get tougher on those for whom it is generally tough. 

But here's the deal. You can't be involved in the music industry without a total sense of belief that it's going to somehow be all right. Because if you were a realist of any kind, you'd find yourself in another business, pronto. The music business doesn't make any sense, if you're providing the music, or even if you're selling the instruments to those that do. We take home pretty much the same rate of pay we did 30 years ago. It's a wretched business model. But we love to play so much that we have to have faith that it will somehow, some way, work out. And you know what? It does.

So while the ups and downs of Wall Street have been entertaining to some, and ulcer-inducing to others, those of us who play have been, um, playing. Because they may turn off the lights, but we can sing in the light or the dark.