Show Coming Up -- Rehearsals and Stress

My band, The Very Bad Boys, haven't done a show since New Year's Eve, but that was a dance, not a concert. We have our first concert since August coming up on the 17th of this month. Frankly, I'm a little concerned about the lack of new material. We have about 12 new songs we want to cover, in addition to four or five originals I've written, but only a couple of weeks to get them learned and under our belts.

In the past, things like this didn't bother me. You take your gear to the gig, you plug in and you play. People like you or they don't. And you go home smiling most nights.

For some reason, I'm worried this time. I don't want to play the same material we know and are comfortable with. I want to throw out new, unheard tunes. I want to explore new territories and scrape against the screen of the unknown. I want to see what we can do when we don't really know what we're doing. 

I've called for two rehearsals before the 17th, a challenge in the best of times. But hopefully we can do both of them, and in the process nail down the songs we've obligated ourselves to learning and playing. This band is not big on doing homework, and not terribly great at focusing during rehearsals. But I'm hoping we can all reach deep and dig out our desires to burn the house down at our next concert. Playing to drunks in bars is easy, and you get spoiled, because even when they're listening, they're drunk. If you throw a drunk a four-four, they'll love it, whether or not you're doing anything musically worthwhile. When you're playing a concert where people are seated, sober, and listening, you have to show up and play. You can't just cruise, and you can't just make funny faces and pretend you're squeezing out your best. You have to give it up. 

What began as a loose configuration of friends is morphing into something a little more serious. As the navigator of this journey, I can only hope that I'm up to the task of making this happen in a way that shows off our skills and instincts in the best possible way. 

I'm not grumpy! Now get off my lawn!

There's a fellow guitarist right here in Martinez who reads this here blog, and I'm nothing if not shamefully influenced by my audience. A couple of weeks ago, he said "I always look to see who you're ranting about this week." He enjoys the ranting, I noted to myself. Must rant more.

So I wrote last week's column about new year predictions and decibel meters. My own band members accused me of trying to get assassinated, or telling people that if they don't like it too loud they can just leave. Which is not, astute readers will already know, at all what I said. My wife accused me of being negative. Try as I might, I cannot get the love 'round here. 

But, I thought, CB will enjoy the rant. He said he loves the rants. So I took no small amount of comfort in that. 

Today, in an early afternoon visit to The Good Stuff Guitar Shop, he was there. Well, I inquired, how did you like the column? 

"You're grumpy," he observed. 

Which just goes to show that you cannot, try as you might, please anyone at all. I mean, one would think that a rant about decibel meters and their abuse by those who would impose their volume ethic on everyone would appeal to a fellow guitar playing band dude. But noooo. Instead, I get accused of grumpyhood. 

In future columns, I shall shower light and flowers all over the place, and ne'er say a discouraging word about anything or anyone. I'm gonna get all Donovan on ya'll (those under 35, don't mind the reference -- it means all hippie and peace-love and flowery). 

And I'm gonna do all that as soon as you all get off of my lawn! 

Bold Predictions, Fearless Prognostications For This, Our Newest of Years

"There is no problem so great/that you cannot run away from it." The late, great blues/folk guitarist and singer Dave Van Ronk said that, and it's certainly as true today as it was then. But it's clear from all indications that Americans are tired of running away from our problems, and are ready to, as they say at the new Kinder's Meats in the Muir Station Shopping Center, "wash my hands and prepare your order." 

A mere 19 days from now, a gigantic party will take place from sea to shining sea. For some, a joyous beginning, for others, a sorrowful wake. But when it's over, on Jan. 21 for all of us, as Americans, it's a chance to start again, get some much-needed work done, make our case, plead our cause. This is a vast and great nation, with important work to do. We seem to have forgotten that somehow over the past years. It's time to remember.

That said, let's get to the important stuff. What is going to happen in the world of music in 2009? I've given this much thought, dear readers. I've used my best statistical models, employed complex databases and consulted hundreds of experts, all in the service of making this column as thorough and accurate as possible. So let's get to it. 

Prediction: As local bars and clubs continue to monitor the sound levels of bands with those repulsive decibel meters, the material covered by said bands will tend toward John Mayer, Crosby, Stills and Nash, and James Taylor. Rock and roll will become a distant memory, and the only thing still allowed to thunder through the city will be the sound of the modified Harleys, which the police department will continue to insist is ok, because it's for safety.

Side note about the decibel meters: if the bands are truly too loud for the audience, then the audience would leave. It's not the audience who has a problem with the volume. I am a proponent of reasonable volume myself, but this trend to stick a meter in my face and bark at me to turn it down, often by people who have little or no musical abilities themselves, in the name of some audio safety benchmark, just makes me want to buy a Marshall stack and turn it up to 11. Whatever happened to rock and roll? When did we become a nation of decibel meter geezers? Studies have shown that people too obsessed with reading studies about hearing loss become boring. I have a great storage suggestion for anyone who happens to have one of those decibel meters. Give me a call. . .

Prediction: despite a continuously demonstrated fact that Martinez is a hotbed of musical talent, the city's event organizers will continue to ignore that and book musical acts based on whether or not they charge for their services, for the occasional Main Street event. And the musicians themselves will continue to remain disjointed and unorganized, thus perpetrating the problem. Would it really be so difficult to stage an  annual musical celebration of Martinez at Waterfront Park? We have enormous resources here. An event like that could feature kids from Gina Graziano's class, local rock bands, the Martinez Opera, jazz and blues, the community band, the Alhambra Valley Band for bluegrass. . . that kind of event would attract more than just the locals, but what the heck is wrong with attracting locals to a celebration of local talent? It would be a simple thing to organize and operate, and would be a blast to attend. Why are our municipal cheerleaders so deaf to that suggestion? Have they been going to musical events that don't have decibel meters? 

Prediction: Armando's will continue to grow in popularity, and will become the only after-hours destination spot in downtown Martinez. Well, it already is, so that's not much of a prediction. But still, Roy Jeans and Eloise Cotton have created a masterpiece of a club (despite the decibel meter), a location where you can just relax and listen. I've never seen a problem in the place that wasn't attended to immediately, and I don't hesitate to suggest this as a spot for people of all ages and musical persuasions to go for auditory bliss and community love. As a side note, my band, the Very Bad Boys, will be there on Jan. 17, and five more times in 2009. Drop me a line if you want to be on our mailing list. 

Another side note about decibel meters: if the owners of these places with decibel meters are so intent on the bands keeping the volume low, will they be every bit as adamant about keeping the audience from talking through these now-low-volume performances? There are far too many instances where customers feel the need to chat at full-volume while musicians are trying to get something across. It would be fair and far more palpable if the decibel meter were aimed at these chatterers as well as at the band. Thank you.

Prediction: No one will continue to know you when you're down and out (blues joke).

Prediction: This column will become relevant and interesting in 2009 (a huge stretch, but you never know -- it could happen). 

All that said, what's important is that you and yours have a prosperous and productive year, despite all the noise and hand-wringing about the economy. And don't forget to get out and hear some live music this year. It's never been better, and you know you love it. 

The Best Kind of Christmas Present

A brand new red Firebird. Sounds spectacular. Plays like butta. 

The Carols of Christmas - A Cacophonic Conundrum

Merry Christmas, those of you who celebrate this holiday. I sincerely hope today finds you among family and friends and warmth and comfort, even if you don't celebrate Christmas. It's cold outside, in more ways than one. Individuals, and the entire human race, needs all the warmth and comfort it can get, with the distinct exception of the whole global warming thing. Today a lot of folks are sleepily walking around in new pajamas, sipping warm goodness from holiday-decorated cups and watching children play with new toys. Later there will be all kinds of food, and more warm stuff in cups (perhaps, by now, even laced with warmer stuff), and, of course, the singing. 

And that, dear friends, is what I'm here to talk about today. The singing. 

I have an enormous soft spot in my heart for the word 'carol,' because I'm married to a person with that name, and I am mightily in love with her. However, that spot grows progressively harder, stone-like, even, when the word moves to define a seasonal song. When it comes to Christmas music, I am downright cynical -- Scroogelike, even. Except I'm not. Dichotomy, my friends. Contradiction. Disconnect. These are the plagues of my holiday season. That endless tape loop of both instrumental and vocal versions of these songs I've been hearing my whole life, now used as relentless marketing tools in shops and malls and elevators everywhere, that say "'tis the season, now get out there and buy things," makes me dislike the songs, and yet my memories of childhood are drawn to these very same melodies, and I secretly shiver as they waft inside what's left of my brain. 

So today, let's take a look at the origin of some of these tunes, as presented to us by our good friends at Wikipedia. If you don't know what that is, great. Then just chalk up this information to my vast array of knowledge, and we're good to go. 

The Twelve Days of Christmas: it's been postulated on the Internet for some time now, in those endless chain letters that plague my inbox, that this song is really some kind of code for English Catholics who use these various things given by his or her true love to symbolize religious items. This, according to the best research, is simply not the case. It's believed to be a sort of game, where the singer sings a verse, and the players sing it back, and the singer sings another verse, and the players sing both back, and so on, until one of the players makes a mistake and has to give up a kiss or a sweet. This is the kind of thing people used to do before they had reruns of "House" in those post-present, pre-dinner hours. Also, it used to be a tradition to celebrate Christmas from Dec. 25 to Jan. 6, thus the 12 days. And the song is believed to be French in origin, which explains a lot about its length and its lack of, um, focus. 

Silent Night: One of my favorite carols, and now I know why. The words were written by father Fredrick Mohr, an Austrian priest who apparently wanted a song to sing in church that he could play on his guitar. The music was composed by the headmaster of the school, Franz Gruber. The year was 1818, right at the beginning of the German Romantic period, and you can hear the aching, the longing, in that gorgeous melody. It's not a simple song to sing, but every voice I know clamors to sing it, because it is truly a melodic prayer. And, as with so many of these carols, everyone knows the first verse, and only some know more than that.

What Child is This: More aptly named "what song is this?" for it's Greensleeves, for my money one of the most haunting and gorgeous melodies of all time. It evokes the music of the middle ages better than any other surviving melody from the time, already well known in Shakespeare's time and probably originating to the early 1500s, a fellow named William Chatterson Dix fell ill in the late 1800s and sank into depression, composing a number of hymns, including "What Child Is This?" It's probably impossible to know which version is better known with the melody - the hymn or the ballad. But it's a great song, and proof that truly great songs live on forever. Just look at "Louie Louie." 

Jingle Bells: This is not a Christmas song, though it has certainly become one. It was written in 1857 by James Lord Pierpont, who takes four verses to describe various equestrian misadventures involving snow. The first verse and chorus we all know, the others not so much. But this song was originally written for Thanksgiving, apparently. However, since there aren't many sales of goods and items on Thanksgiving, the good merchants co-opted it as a Christmas song, is my theory. But after eight years of the previous administration, I'm still a little bitter and conspiracy minded. One of my enduring Christmas memories is my dad playing that Bing Crosby Christmas album every year, and his version with the Andrews Sisters is the one I will always associate with this tune.

Happy Xmas (War is Over): Perhaps it is indicative of my history and background that this is the song most evocative of the season for me, and the one guaranteed to make me break out weeping every time I hear it. Why do I weep? Because John Lennon had a way with composing heart-rending melodies that grab my guts and twist them in delicious ways. And I weep because, just when the song gets good, John shoves Yoko to the microphone and my bliss is rudely interrupted by the vocal shenanigans of Ms. Ono, who, with all due love and respect, cannot and should not sing on songs that feature John. So it's a true weeper, this song. The best and the worst of music. Oh, and the message. War is over, if you want it. It reminds us, as John frequently did so well, that the fates by which we believe we are pummeled are really in our hands, if we choose to take some action and shape the world the way we think it should be. 

And with that, have a fantastic day today. I hope you get all the things you want, material and spiritual, and that you have love right in front of your eyes the whole day and night through. 

Music Business:Happy Holidays, We Won't Sue

This just in:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2008/12/19/financial/f115719S10.DTL&tsp=1

"We're at a point where there's a sense of comfort that we can replace one form of deterrent with another form of deterrent," said RIAA Chairman and Chief Executive Mitch Bainwol. "Filing lawsuits as a strategy to deal with a big problem was not our first choice five years ago."

In an industry in its final death throes, it is astounding to me that the head of the organized crime, er, organized music business can make the above statement and not collapse from laughter. When you are literally starving for customers, the best you can offer them is one form of deterrent to another? Really? And this is your business plan. Ok, then.

I understand that downloading music online is seen by the industry, and by some musicians, as the equivalent of shoplifting. I get that. But here's the simple truth -- it's simply not. It's file sharing. If some kid sees a file online at a site which is perfectly legal to be on, and the file is offered for free, then how is that the same as taking something from a store? The problem is not the customer, the problem is the provider.

The music industry, in its ignornance and greed, completely ignored the digital age, except to harvest obscene amounts of money from CD sales. They make a CD for pennies and sell them for $15 each. When music became digital files, swappable through computers, the industry just didn't see it happening until it had become part of the culture. Once it had, oh my. Then the customers were bad. And liable. And subject to litigation, and in need of educating. 35,000 people, mostly kids, were sued by the record industry, for the crime of downloading files off of a computer.

Hey, record executives: we realize that ya'll don't have degrees from Harvard Business School, but here's a little newsflash for ya: people download files off the Internet every. single. day. For free. It's part of the culture, for goodness sake. You are the only industry (well, you and your moronic cousins in the movie industry) to make it a crime. You should have seen this coming many years ago, and invested some time, energy and brain power into designing a suitable model for this form of distribution. But, of course, you didn't. Because your distributors were busy explaining that they were still important. How's that working out for you these days?

Personally, as a professional songwriter/musician who stands to lose money from the taking of my intellectual property, I am all for marching these fools off to prison for instigating this legal form of terror on innocent people who were (gasp!) trying to enjoy some music. Yes, the old ways of doing things worked out very well for those musicians and songwriters lucky enough to sign with a label and get work. Hundreds of thousands of musicians and songwriters were left out of that loop, though. No longer. The wild west of the Internet has leveled the playing field, and the industry as we know it ceased to exist in actuality several years ago. It just doesn't know it yet. I celebrate that demise.

But far more importantly, I look forward to the new music business as it grows in front of our eyes. There are exciting opportunities everywhere right now, and we get to watch things take shape from the beginning. At the very least, we won't have to watch kids getting sued for the crime of enjoying the music.

Antidote to Holiday Music - Dark Ambient Sounds of Rapoon

Like many of my musical peers and colleagues, I am a Luddite when it comes to anything unfamiliar and even a little modern. I find that many of my blues musician buddies and sisters would rather hear nothing than the latest offering from Counting Crows or John Mayer. We're a cranky, crusty lot with a large thirst for old-school funk and rhythm; give us the big back-beat and a singer completely in the throes of a gospel-inspired love frenzy, frosted with soul horns, sweet guitar and a big, bold bass line, maybe a Leslie-speakered B3 organ, and we're home. Don't even speak to us when this music is playing -- there are few sounds more worth hearing to my tribe. But start in with the Dave Matthews-sounding quirky, breathy acoustic guitar driven introspective tales of who knows what, with just a touch of odd in the syncopation and perhaps some jazzy goings-on with the rest of the band, and that never-ending jam mentality, and off goes the radio/iPod/stereo, and on goes the TV.

This is most definitely NOT to say that any music is bad, or not worthy of listening to, or that the people who listen to music made in this decade or any other are somehow not cool or nice or smart, or that I'm somehow superior because I have a closed musical mind.  Music is the best, and all of it is worth a listen. If you have a pulse, however, you will respond to some music far more enthusiastically than another. Something will reverberate with your soul when you hear the music that truly speaks to you, and this perhaps is the very best thing music can do -- remind us that we have a soul by shaking it a little for us every now and then. 

I mean, it's almost embarrassing to play gigs these days anywhere that people under 50 congregate, simply because I have very few songs in my set list that go beyond 1973. I could, I suppose, brush off some Police and Bruce and Petty tunes that I used to play when I was trying to be modern, but jeez, that's already old people's music for anyone up to their early 30s.

Ok, this line of thought is getting me nowhere but sorely depressed, so let's get to the point before we start imbibing things that people shouldn't imbibe in the morning. 

I was goofing around the web a couple of years ago and came across an internet radio site/music store called Magnatune. It is an independent store selling music that you won't find elsewhere. One of the albums I downloaded was by a guy named Rapoon. The album was called "The Kirgitz Light," and the title comes from a portion of Russia featured briefly in my favorite novel of all time: "Gravity's Rainbow" by Thomas Pynchon. I will check out anything or anyone that references this remarkable novel, so I downloaded it, and played it a couple of times. I didn't hear much -- just some loops and strange, distant sounds sort of strung together. But then, last month, I played it again, and I guess this time I was ready. These sound sculptures really reached out to me, caused me to go places I truly needed to go. I don't need "smack you in the head" drama right now -- quite the contrary. And most of the music I play involves lyrical dramas of the highest order. Rapoon crafts these soundscapes that drift in and out and evoke remarkable internal worlds of dreams and reflections. It's impossible to explain with mere worlds, of course; any good music is. I guess what I'm saying is, if you're looking for a way to get away from the mind numbing holiday music growing like insidious barnacles out of every speaker in the land right now, I strongly recommend Rapoon's work. You can find some on iTunes, and some on Magnatunes.com, but for a complete list, check out rapoon.net, the artists' own Web site.

The latest work by him that I am listening to, even as I write this, is called Time Frost. What he's done is take samples (sound slices) of works by Strauss, particularly The Blue Danube, and rearranged them into frozen soundscapes. The idea behind this work, he says, is to evoke a frozen place where global warming has captured in ice everything, including musical sounds. And this, he says, is what that might sound like. 

Normally, experimental ambient woof woof stuff is not my cup of tea. It can sound pretentious and even silly to my untrained and blues-crusted ears. I don't have the patience, youth or wisdom to appreciate most music that goes too far beyond my very small circle of musical understanding. But somehow, for whatever reason, Rapoon has snuck in there and blown apart my assumptions about atmospheric, looping electronica. I have listened to little else for the past couple of months, much to the chagrin of my spouse, who has dubbed it "annoying." 

But then, Counting Crows is one of her favorite bands. So neener neener. How's that for maturity and healthy communication? 

You can find this column and a lot more on my blog: http://caroompaspick.blogspot.com.