On Putting It Down
I’ve been playing music and performing live for more than 20 years now, beginning with punk rock and hardcore bands when I was a teenager, a series of entirely unsuccessful (but lots of fun) hippy bands in college, and then some professional successes with Jim and Jennie and the Pinetops, The Essex Green, and UncleFucker. My most recent project crashed and burned when our bandleader, to use the kindest euphemism, lost the plot (to use the cruelest means using no euphemism whatsoever: the guy went batshit crazy as he spiraled into a completely overblown persecution complex).
This summer, I went to quite a few more bluegrass festivals than in previous years, since I actually had a little bit of disposable income and no gigs causing scheduling problems. I’ve had a couple of disappointments: I had to refuse the opportunity to play with Hoots and Hellmouth, a local band I enjoy a lot, because of my child support and student loan obligations.
I had fun at the festivals, playing music with friends I only see during the summer, cooking outside and drinking beer all day. I missed being on stage, but not enough to ruin any of my weekends. But earlier this week, my friend JC asked me if I wanted to play a benefit with him in Lancaster County, and after some hedging, I finally said no. In fact, I added, I may be done with playing live music anymore.
The truth is that I don’t look forward to playing gigs in Philadelphia. There’s no pay commensurate with the effort you make, it’s a bitch to get into good clubs (which pay worse, interestingly, than the second and third-tier rooms), and try as you might, the appreciation level is pretty low.
Add to that disincentive the fact that musicians are obnoxious, selfish, and totally insane and self-absorbed people: I’ve said often that I like playing music, but I hate musicians. Frank Zappa took it a step farther in his autobiography, and compared living breathing musicians unfavorably to his Synclavier, a synthesizer developed in the late 1970s. I am inclined to agree.
I don’t know if this is hangover from the Jangling Sparrows debacle or what, but the prospect of learning songs, teaching songs I’ve written to other musicians, chasing people down and trying to schedule practices, and all the other things associated with getting a band togethersimply makes me want to jump off the Commodore Barry Bridge.
Not that I’m selling my guitars or my basses. Just that outside of studio sessions or picking at home for myself, I think I may be done with playing music. As Tom T. Hall sand “Ain’t no money in it, it’ll lead you to an early grave.”
2 Responses to “On Putting It Down”
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September 13th, 2006 at 10:27 pm
The Descendents - GLOBAL PROBING
It takes a long time to get what you want
No matter how hard you try, it just won’t come
But you keep on tryin’, and you don’t give up
And it’s really silly, and it’s all in vain
And if you don’t stop you’re going to go insane
Cause it takes a long time to get what you want
No matter how hard you try, it just won’t come
But you keep on tryin’, and you don’t give up
And it’s really silly, and it’s all in vain
You could be doing other things
You could be doing what you want
But you keep on tryin’, and you don’t give up
And it’s really silly and it’s all in vain
And if you don’t stop you’re going to go insane
It’s all in vain and if you don’t stop
You’re going to go insane
It’s all in vain and if you don’t stop
You’re going to go insane
Insane! Insane! Insane! Insane!
It’s all in vain, and if you don’t stop
You’re going to go insane
September 14th, 2006 at 10:24 pm
While I’m saddened by this post, I completely understand and sympathize. Music, in the abstract, is a wonderful beautiful thing, but pursuing any kind of involvement in it in the ‘real world’ (as it stands) is a weird, twisted, frustrating, and thankless endeavor. Most of the successes one can achieve are as pitiably short-lived as a crack high. And even the really major successes don’t insure you against being forgotten or left behind as styles change. Thus the pursuit of music is often left to the most extremely stubborn, impractical, egomaniacal people who live in an endlessly extended adolescence.
However, my persistant optimistic streak (and status as a confirmed Brendan-cheerleader) leads me to think that maybe making a necessary mental clean-break from music, “putting it down” as it were, is going to be ultimately freeing for you, and allow for some other opportunity or inspiration to come your way. Lord knows, you’ve got music in you really deeply and that’s never going to change, so it’s not like you’re cutting out your tongue such that you’ll never speak again. You’re just laying aside the worst, most soul-sucking side of it, and thereby taking charge of the situation, as well as taking care of yourself.