I love piano bar! Good music, pleasant atmosphere, a smiling pianist/vocalist and a grand piano with seats around it, direct interaction with the customers, an inclusive civilised way to drink. I found an ad for a small Italian fish restaurant, "Piano bar on Thursdays". I went for dinner and the food and wine was great. So was the music, cool and jazzy. So why am I not going to hurry back?
Failure: Well, it wasn't a piano, it was a keyboard with rhythm machine built in and/or backing tracks. It might just as well have been a DJ. The guy may have been a great musician, but who can tell? Os it real or is it Memorex? I think he sang, there was a microphone there but there seemed to be more than one voice. Personality? Zilch. Sorry, but he never caught anyone's eye, never asked if anyone had a request, never spoke, never smiled. He disappeared on his breaks and left us with Diana Krall, Jobim and Stan Getz which is not all bad. But this is not piano bar. This is a keyboardist morphing into DJ.
Success! Where are the entertainers of today? Last night they were at Lula's Lounge in Toronto. The McFlies, a six-piece band playing acoustic instruments and packing the place solid with an enthusiastic young crowd. I had never seen a Cajon before. Its basically a wooden box and the musician sits on it and slaps the front of it, different sounds from different places. With a mic stuck in a hole in the back it's a hell of a drum set, this guy was driving the band. Individually the musicians were all extremely competent, as an ensemble they were fantastic. Tight arrangements, surprising repertoire including a Boy Gorge number and a song from Quiet Riot, "Come on feel the noise". I'll be at the next performance if I can find it.
Which brings me to today's grumble. Many bands and singles work in self-imposed anonymity. Three basic items to increase audience size and get more money, guys, the bottom line, listen, you need:
The band name displayed on or near the stage.
A guest book (or a groupy with a laptop) collecting names and email addresses.
A take-away piece with a photo, the website and contact info.
I am a time-traveller from the last century and I know.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
In search of a piano bar
This afternoon I spotted a bar with a piano keyboard on the awning. I zoomed in, the keyboard logo was everywhere, even on the server. (I hate these PC words, so soulless. This server was in fact a lovely barmaid and the logo was beautifully displayed.) "Where's the piano?" I asked. "It will be here 9PM, tonight is jam night", she replied.
So I fancied a jam and came back in the evening. The band was on a break, I was invited to play when the band came back on. An hour and a quarter later the band was still on a break so I left. Bummer.
At the Barmaids Arms I remember working four hours a night with three twenty-minute breaks. The times are a-changing. I am a time-traveller from the previous century.
So I fancied a jam and came back in the evening. The band was on a break, I was invited to play when the band came back on. An hour and a quarter later the band was still on a break so I left. Bummer.
At the Barmaids Arms I remember working four hours a night with three twenty-minute breaks. The times are a-changing. I am a time-traveller from the previous century.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Nobody likes to be shown incompetent, especially generals
The US are going to the highest political levels to extradite a British computer geek, Gary McKinnon, who hacked his way into a number of US top-secret military computers, looking for proof of aliens. So why is the U.S. so eager to lock up the Asperger's Syndrome hacker?
The reason the US is so keen to punish McKinnon is because he made them look stupid. The fact that the US military computers were so weakly defended that a lone hacker in England could penetrate them is indefensible. Heads should roll, theirs, not his. They should formally thank McKinnon for pointing out how flimsy their security is and hire him to fix it.
Meantime, how much of that data was simultaneously being stolen by really sinister hackers, enemy intelligence operations with much more money, time, equipment and, presumably, finesse than McKinnon had at his disposal? That is the real worry and that is what the US should be concentrating on.
That's what I think. London Bobby
The reason the US is so keen to punish McKinnon is because he made them look stupid. The fact that the US military computers were so weakly defended that a lone hacker in England could penetrate them is indefensible. Heads should roll, theirs, not his. They should formally thank McKinnon for pointing out how flimsy their security is and hire him to fix it.
Meantime, how much of that data was simultaneously being stolen by really sinister hackers, enemy intelligence operations with much more money, time, equipment and, presumably, finesse than McKinnon had at his disposal? That is the real worry and that is what the US should be concentrating on.
That's what I think. London Bobby
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Packrat relinquishes disks
I've just thrown out eight disks of vital information, Encyclopedia Britannica and Microsoft's Encarta. Who needs it with Google and Wikipedia at fingertips?
But, here's the rub, what took me so long? And why couldn't I have thrown them out before I moved them from Victoria to Toronto with a lot of other useless stuff?
But, here's the rub, what took me so long? And why couldn't I have thrown them out before I moved them from Victoria to Toronto with a lot of other useless stuff?
Retired?
Semi-retired? Am I working or not?
I have a gig tomorrow so this should be short, I have to rehearse. Yes,I have been playing but working? Not really. This is how it is.
Entertainment is a commodity like shoes or shirts. It has to be crafted and it has to be sold. The creation and updating of the show is work but it is satisfying. Selling it is hard grunt work as every successful salesman knows. There has to be market research, brochures, photography, CDs and DVDs, bios and resumes, emails and web-site updates, advertising, correspondence, negotiations, contracts, collections, telephone calls, cold calls, just a lot of frequently frustrating work.
When the sale is made, if it's shirts or shoes, the work is done. If it is a show, the work begins. I myself am the product that has to be delivered, rehearsals, travelling, equipment set-up, sound checks and finally the show itself.
My next birthday is a big one and I am going to give myself a present, I am going to semi-retire. I am going to cut out all the above sales work and I am never going to carry keyboards or speakers again even though few venues seems to have a piano or a decent sound system any more. I am still good old available Bob but I probably won't get any gigs which is a pity because I still do well, still like to work, to play, that is. I still have this thing, this package, this cocktail of music and laughter which is quite rare to find and which I have been blessed with. It is a vanishing phenomenon, most of today's performers don't smile when they sing or play.
Every successful entertainer is an illusionist, he walks on to a stage and does his thing, everybody has a good time and he makes it look so easy, so effortless, so much so in fact that bookers say, "You want all that money, you are only on for forty minutes"! My answer is, "I'm working now, negotiating with you, the show itself is free. If I am not working, why aren't I sitting beside the pool with a book and a drink?".
An adoring audience is like a lover and applause gives me a high. That is why we entertainers do all that office work, carry those speakers, lif' dat bale. The show itself is free.
I probably won't get any more Legion gigs. Apart from letting their pianos go out of tune and fall to pieces, they seem to think I am a dance band and put the audience miles away from me on the other side of a bloody great dance floor and expect me to bring all the equipment and play and sing for four hours to an inattentive audience for a pittance. Or worse still, they expect me to do that AND all the publicity and promotion and work for "the door" and CD sales. Sod it. In coffee shops the sign says: no shoes, no shirt, no service. Now I say, no piano, no fee, no performance.
On the booker's side it is a fact that putting on the evening is a lot of work and heavy responsibility for the entertainment chairman. (As everybody knows, in every club 97% of the work is done by 3% of the members.) My part of the show, entertaining, is relatively easy and fun for me. Putting bums in seats and making sure they can see and hear me is the grunt work but it is the booker's work, not mine.
Today I am playing the grand piano in my daughter's living room. My gold record is on the wall smiling down at me. There is a dog here who likes it. I am rehearsing for my gig tomorrow, a private party in Brampton. i must go, work to do.
I have a gig tomorrow so this should be short, I have to rehearse. Yes,I have been playing but working? Not really. This is how it is.
Entertainment is a commodity like shoes or shirts. It has to be crafted and it has to be sold. The creation and updating of the show is work but it is satisfying. Selling it is hard grunt work as every successful salesman knows. There has to be market research, brochures, photography, CDs and DVDs, bios and resumes, emails and web-site updates, advertising, correspondence, negotiations, contracts, collections, telephone calls, cold calls, just a lot of frequently frustrating work.
When the sale is made, if it's shirts or shoes, the work is done. If it is a show, the work begins. I myself am the product that has to be delivered, rehearsals, travelling, equipment set-up, sound checks and finally the show itself.
My next birthday is a big one and I am going to give myself a present, I am going to semi-retire. I am going to cut out all the above sales work and I am never going to carry keyboards or speakers again even though few venues seems to have a piano or a decent sound system any more. I am still good old available Bob but I probably won't get any gigs which is a pity because I still do well, still like to work, to play, that is. I still have this thing, this package, this cocktail of music and laughter which is quite rare to find and which I have been blessed with. It is a vanishing phenomenon, most of today's performers don't smile when they sing or play.
Every successful entertainer is an illusionist, he walks on to a stage and does his thing, everybody has a good time and he makes it look so easy, so effortless, so much so in fact that bookers say, "You want all that money, you are only on for forty minutes"! My answer is, "I'm working now, negotiating with you, the show itself is free. If I am not working, why aren't I sitting beside the pool with a book and a drink?".
An adoring audience is like a lover and applause gives me a high. That is why we entertainers do all that office work, carry those speakers, lif' dat bale. The show itself is free.
I probably won't get any more Legion gigs. Apart from letting their pianos go out of tune and fall to pieces, they seem to think I am a dance band and put the audience miles away from me on the other side of a bloody great dance floor and expect me to bring all the equipment and play and sing for four hours to an inattentive audience for a pittance. Or worse still, they expect me to do that AND all the publicity and promotion and work for "the door" and CD sales. Sod it. In coffee shops the sign says: no shoes, no shirt, no service. Now I say, no piano, no fee, no performance.
On the booker's side it is a fact that putting on the evening is a lot of work and heavy responsibility for the entertainment chairman. (As everybody knows, in every club 97% of the work is done by 3% of the members.) My part of the show, entertaining, is relatively easy and fun for me. Putting bums in seats and making sure they can see and hear me is the grunt work but it is the booker's work, not mine.
Today I am playing the grand piano in my daughter's living room. My gold record is on the wall smiling down at me. There is a dog here who likes it. I am rehearsing for my gig tomorrow, a private party in Brampton. i must go, work to do.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Summer of discontent
I am a good entertainer and the secret of a successful performance:- keep it positive. But once off the stage I am a curmudgeon, consumed by the vicissitudes of life
I guess what I'm bitching about is getting old. I don't feel old and my eyes are good and my mind sharp. At least, I think so. I have a do list on Remember The Milk, songs to write, videos to make, CDs to sell, gigs to prepare for, songs to learn, music library to organise and video editing program to master. But what is all this arthritis rubbish about? I'm not ready for this. Another twenty years of springy steps, please.
What is twisting my tail is not that the do list isn't diminishing but that the reason for non-performance has changed. I have always achieved below potential but that was because of screwing around, goofing off, playing when I should be working. Now it is because of napping. I used to laugh at senior jokes, like a senior chooses the vice which will get him home earliest, takes all night to do once what I once used to do all night, etc. Damn, I should time-travel back to Barmaids Arms days and punch myself in the nose. Not funny, Bobby!
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