Monday, July 26, 2010

No, I Wasn't Wrong

After much introspection regarding last blog's possible realization, the only true realization I've come up with is that I wasn't wrong in the first place. Granted, Blake has shown me that there's another facet to the music business - a facet that devotes itself to fun, and a paycheck. Allowing someone to have fun was never my problem. I want people to have fun. My issue was with having fun at the expense of the professionalism of trying to begin an ambitious career, and I was confusing that with the moment-to-moment experience of actually doing the job.

My feeling is, and always has been, that there's no difference between the job and the career. That every job has to be taken seriously enough to cause it to be a stepping stone for bigger things. Although I cannot, and do not wish to, change that aspect of my personality, I now accept that others may not feel the same way. Ironically, that allows them to be much more happy and satisfied in their day-to-day life, taking joy in doing a job well. My ambition causes me to not be happy with the simplicity of the mundane. Instead, I'm always looking forward, and when things don't go well in the movement, I get affected emotionally.

That doesn't mean I was wrong, and it doesn't mean Blake is wrong. We both just have a different approach. While I still believe mine is the route necessary for growth and progress, his makes him more happy.

So there you have it. We can both be right. But where does this leave me in following the remnants of a thus-far failure of a career? I could have been working in bars, being happy, if I was like other people. But in wanting more, and not being able to achieve it, I have a little dilemma.

More on that next time.

Monday, July 5, 2010

A Possible Realization, Thanks to an Old Adversary

Something happened just a few days ago that made me rethink my attitude to my own fallibility. Kirk, a friend of mine from Private School, now plays with a new band called Audio Crime. We got in touch through a Facebook group called Denver's Rock Bands of the 80's, a group dedicated to posting embarrassing pictures of all of us lucky enough to be in the Denver scene back in the day.

Kirk, being of a mind to record an eventual album at Fun House Studios, PME's in-house recording complex, invited us out to a club he was playing over 4th of July weekend. The club, called Eck's, is a mainstay of the South Denver music scene, and walking in, it's not hard to see why. It's an enormous, sprawling club, with a section dedicated just to hearing the band. If you don't want to hear the band, just hoof it over to another section, and you won't be bothered. There are at least a dozen pool tables sequestered in various locations, four foosball tables (I had no idea they still existed), and a dining area, which also implies a kitchen.

About three seconds after the soundman started to announce the band, I knew exactly who it was, even though I hadn't heard the voice in almost twenty years. When I left The Method, Blake was the drummer, and the leaving went less than cordially. Details will come at another time, but it's sufficient to say that Blake and I have not remained friends, not remained in contact, and probably wouldn't have crossed the street to relieve ourselves on the other one if they were on fire.

I had heard from other sources that Blake continued to run sound in clubs, and in that I revelled. Clubs were supposed to be a stepping stone to other levels of the music biz, and nothing more. I played as little as possible in clubs after the Denver scene collapsed, mostly because I felt as though it would be yet more irrefutable proof that I had failed. That I had not used the clubs effectively in the next step, which was to not have to play the clubs.

I watched Blake interact with people that obviously knew him, and one thing really struck me. He was happy. He expressed recognition towards the people who came up to him. He was friendly and engaging when someone interrupted him, which was something I always hated when I was running sound. I was working, after all. I didn't come in and tap on their shoulder at Allstate - I was trying to concentrate on a job that I took very seriously. Every band I worked with expected me to take it seriously, or at least that's what I always thought. Sure, I let people talk to me, and I responded as best I could, trying to smile. For me, running sound or playing wasn't about the social aspect. It was about the music, and trying to do it the best I possib ly could, no matter what the circumstance. So ultimately, I wanted them to let me do my job. I didn't appreciate their interruption. But Blake not only didn't mind, it seemed as though he actually enjoyed the interaction.

So now I'm not so sure about my assessment of the various arms of the industry. Perhaps there was a whole arm, in the bars, that was actually a part of the industry, not just a stepping stone. Not a place to be reviled, rather a place to be embraced. These people are extremely lucky, not only to have jobs, but also to have jobs doing something they love, something that allows them to interact with their social strata freely and easily, instead of having to contact one another via Facebook, trying to squeak a couple of minutes out of their day to spirit phone calls to people outside their workplace. And not only does their employer not frown upon this interaction, they actually encourage it. It turns out that perhaps the social part of the job is what keeps the whole scene glued together.

So had I been wrong?