the ingredients of identity
now playing: mae moore, "bohemia"
i returned to work today, after taking yesterday off - with hearty thanks to my allergies. both of my kids are pretty stoved in right now, too...i sent them both onto the bus with what remaining paper napkins i had hoarded in the car. so yesterday, in between blowing my nose and restraining myself from wanting to gouge my eyeballs out, i managed to do most of the laundry in the house but not much else. wendy brought lunch over before she went to the library, and we made plans to go grocery shopping after she got off work. i went along for the company - jayda and i went grocery shopping on saturday afternoon so that she could make dinner that night...she's becoming quite the cook.
friday night, i went to wendy's house after dropping the kids off at my own place - wendys' dad made some incredible steaks on the grill and we ate and talked until almost midnight. it was the conversation i'd wanted to have with them since they got here, and i felt ten pounds lighter when i left the house that night. mark and joanne are pretty incredible people...and i'm glad we were able to clear the air about some things...i'm also glad that wendy and i have created an atmoshpere in which that conversation could be had without any animosity or resentment. (wendy wants to think that the bottle of wine might have contributed to that atmosphere somewhat, but if that's what it took - so be it.)
there's a videotape that i own that the band del amitri released in conjunction with their twisted album...it's called let's go home. one of the hardest scenes to watch is a gig they take on in louisville, kentucky where they end up playing on a flatbed trailer surrounded by bales of hay to a parking lot filled to about one-fifth capacity.
the day after this nightmare of a gig, their guitar player left the band.
now, i haven't seen this thing in years, but that always stuck with me. here's a band, touring the united states with a top ten hit (roll to me), and they manage to get stuck with a gig like this. considering that this was far from their first record, and that they'd been working clubs in the US for years, one would think that they'd be in a position to leave gigs like those behind them...but noo-o-oooooo....
every time i play a gig that i find humiliating in some fashion, i think about that scene from the del amitri video.
and on sunday, i found myself thinking about that del amitri video a lot.
enough, in fact, that i found myself circling back to thoughts of putting an end to this particular phase of my career as a musician.
in the time that i've been doing this, i've played thousands - literally thousands - of shows. some of them have been financially rewarding, some of them have been musically rewarding, and some of them have been to further an agenda of some sort...and then some of them have been for no tangible reason whatsoever. for instance, the time that some guy paid me to drive all the way up to carlisle, pa, to sing don henley's heart of the matter to his estranged wife while he sat in front of her, all weepy-eyed, staring at her as if to channel the song through his serial-killer facial expression and onto the fabric of her consciousness somehow. or the time that a good bartender buddy of mine asked me to play his friends' bachelor party and do short sets in between the strippers. or any one of dozens of equally absurd scenarios that i've found myself in over fifteen years of doing whatever it is you'd call what i do.
the problem is, over fifteen years of playing in front of people, the novelty wears off. when you're 23 and you've got fire in your belly and you're convinced that the world is there for the taking, everything seems possible and you're just consumed by the thrill of standing up in front of strangers and proving yourself - over and over again, as many times as it takes.
when you're staring 40 in the face, though..and you've played (as i said) thousands of shows over the course of your career, it takes a little more than the thrill of exposing yourself in public to get the blood moving. there has to be a motivation of some sort that's separate from the act of playing the songs. this is especially true if, like me, you've long ago let go of the notion that there's some reward of some sort coming your way for all your hard work...you're no longer harboring delusions of fame and fortune, and you play music because it's in your blood and you have no idea what else to do with yourself.
when you hit this phase of your career, as i have, you're playing music for the sake of playing music.
and perhaps you feel (as i do) that once you've accepted this lot in life, you no longer feel compelled to chase the "idiot gigs" - the "showcases" in new york city on tuesday nights on a bill with seven other acts that escape the open mike category only because there's no sign up sheet...or the opening slots at clubs that dangle paid gigs in front of you like carrots if you can "just come down this once and do a set in front of (insert band name here)...they're a great draw and it'll do you good to play for their crowd". for free, of course. then there are the "benefits" for shit that no one ever heard of. and the "tribute nights" where 35 bands come in and play their favorite wayne newton song, or something equally absurd...again, for free.
"free." "gratis." "for future consideration."
"free" isn't a huge issue when you're 23.
when you're in your late thirties with two kids who deserve your attention more than "gary glitter night" at some shithole club you've never set foot in, "free" starts to become an irritant. "free" starts to take a toll on your attitude. in fact, "free" starts to eat away at whatever miniscule scrap of enthusiasm you might've had for the gig years earlier. you arrive at a point where you could give a flying fuck about the "bring your girlfriend"-s, the "food and beer for the band"-s, the "james taylor's cousins' girlfriends' gardener is gonna be there"-s.
when your life evolves to a point where playing music isn't the only thing you do anymore - where it's no longer the sole ingredient of your identity - it all just feels like a gigantic waste of time.
and maybe that's the point from which one starts to consider whether or not the effort, time, and expense put into this pursuit is for naught or not.
this is where i find myself this afternoon.
i returned to work today, after taking yesterday off - with hearty thanks to my allergies. both of my kids are pretty stoved in right now, too...i sent them both onto the bus with what remaining paper napkins i had hoarded in the car. so yesterday, in between blowing my nose and restraining myself from wanting to gouge my eyeballs out, i managed to do most of the laundry in the house but not much else. wendy brought lunch over before she went to the library, and we made plans to go grocery shopping after she got off work. i went along for the company - jayda and i went grocery shopping on saturday afternoon so that she could make dinner that night...she's becoming quite the cook.
friday night, i went to wendy's house after dropping the kids off at my own place - wendys' dad made some incredible steaks on the grill and we ate and talked until almost midnight. it was the conversation i'd wanted to have with them since they got here, and i felt ten pounds lighter when i left the house that night. mark and joanne are pretty incredible people...and i'm glad we were able to clear the air about some things...i'm also glad that wendy and i have created an atmoshpere in which that conversation could be had without any animosity or resentment. (wendy wants to think that the bottle of wine might have contributed to that atmosphere somewhat, but if that's what it took - so be it.)
there's a videotape that i own that the band del amitri released in conjunction with their twisted album...it's called let's go home. one of the hardest scenes to watch is a gig they take on in louisville, kentucky where they end up playing on a flatbed trailer surrounded by bales of hay to a parking lot filled to about one-fifth capacity.
the day after this nightmare of a gig, their guitar player left the band.
now, i haven't seen this thing in years, but that always stuck with me. here's a band, touring the united states with a top ten hit (roll to me), and they manage to get stuck with a gig like this. considering that this was far from their first record, and that they'd been working clubs in the US for years, one would think that they'd be in a position to leave gigs like those behind them...but noo-o-oooooo....
every time i play a gig that i find humiliating in some fashion, i think about that scene from the del amitri video.
and on sunday, i found myself thinking about that del amitri video a lot.
enough, in fact, that i found myself circling back to thoughts of putting an end to this particular phase of my career as a musician.
in the time that i've been doing this, i've played thousands - literally thousands - of shows. some of them have been financially rewarding, some of them have been musically rewarding, and some of them have been to further an agenda of some sort...and then some of them have been for no tangible reason whatsoever. for instance, the time that some guy paid me to drive all the way up to carlisle, pa, to sing don henley's heart of the matter to his estranged wife while he sat in front of her, all weepy-eyed, staring at her as if to channel the song through his serial-killer facial expression and onto the fabric of her consciousness somehow. or the time that a good bartender buddy of mine asked me to play his friends' bachelor party and do short sets in between the strippers. or any one of dozens of equally absurd scenarios that i've found myself in over fifteen years of doing whatever it is you'd call what i do.
the problem is, over fifteen years of playing in front of people, the novelty wears off. when you're 23 and you've got fire in your belly and you're convinced that the world is there for the taking, everything seems possible and you're just consumed by the thrill of standing up in front of strangers and proving yourself - over and over again, as many times as it takes.
when you're staring 40 in the face, though..and you've played (as i said) thousands of shows over the course of your career, it takes a little more than the thrill of exposing yourself in public to get the blood moving. there has to be a motivation of some sort that's separate from the act of playing the songs. this is especially true if, like me, you've long ago let go of the notion that there's some reward of some sort coming your way for all your hard work...you're no longer harboring delusions of fame and fortune, and you play music because it's in your blood and you have no idea what else to do with yourself.
when you hit this phase of your career, as i have, you're playing music for the sake of playing music.
and perhaps you feel (as i do) that once you've accepted this lot in life, you no longer feel compelled to chase the "idiot gigs" - the "showcases" in new york city on tuesday nights on a bill with seven other acts that escape the open mike category only because there's no sign up sheet...or the opening slots at clubs that dangle paid gigs in front of you like carrots if you can "just come down this once and do a set in front of (insert band name here)...they're a great draw and it'll do you good to play for their crowd". for free, of course. then there are the "benefits" for shit that no one ever heard of. and the "tribute nights" where 35 bands come in and play their favorite wayne newton song, or something equally absurd...again, for free.
"free." "gratis." "for future consideration."
"free" isn't a huge issue when you're 23.
when you're in your late thirties with two kids who deserve your attention more than "gary glitter night" at some shithole club you've never set foot in, "free" starts to become an irritant. "free" starts to take a toll on your attitude. in fact, "free" starts to eat away at whatever miniscule scrap of enthusiasm you might've had for the gig years earlier. you arrive at a point where you could give a flying fuck about the "bring your girlfriend"-s, the "food and beer for the band"-s, the "james taylor's cousins' girlfriends' gardener is gonna be there"-s.
when your life evolves to a point where playing music isn't the only thing you do anymore - where it's no longer the sole ingredient of your identity - it all just feels like a gigantic waste of time.
and maybe that's the point from which one starts to consider whether or not the effort, time, and expense put into this pursuit is for naught or not.
this is where i find myself this afternoon.
posted by tom at 16:17
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