Pig-bitin' mad

I apologize in advance for what is to follow, but I need to vent. Disclaimer: the sentiments presented below are my own and are not intended to represent the opinions of any other member of The Motor Primitives past, present or future. No animals were hurt in the putting down of these words.

This afternoon, we played at the The High Noon Saloon in a benefit concert for the Madison Area Peace Coalition. I may be mistaken, but as I understand it, we were asked to take part in this benefit. We did not request to play or in any way try to horn in on the event. We donated our time, giving up the better part of the day in order to help raise funds for the MAPC and I, for one, was happy to do it. But, we play rock music. We are a rock band. That’s who we are. It’s what we do. Presumably, they knew that before asking us to participate, and if they didn’t, they should have. There were certainly other things I could have done instead, and I assume the other members of the band would not have been moping around at home had we not been involved in this benefit.

So, where was I? Oh, yes. We played this benefit. We followed two acoustic groups. There was no opportunity to do a sound check, so when we took the stage no levels had been set, etc, etc. Before we even started playing, still doing line checks and what have you, one of the organizers informed us that we were too loud. I felt like we were being treated as if we were imposing on the event when we were asked to be there. And believe me, we weren’t that loud. But, in the spirit of peace, love, cooperation and all that good stuff, we tried to play as quietly as we possibly could. I turned down so low that I couldn’t hear any bass at all out of the very nice (and heavy) bass rig I had lugged to the event despite my aging back, knees and other parts. I was getting some bass through the stage monitors, but bass doesn’t sound so good coming out of monitor speakers, particularly when you haven’t had a sound check. What happens, you might ask, when you turn down so low you can’t hear yourself? Well, since you asked, I’ll tell you. First, no matter what your brain tells your body, your body works harder in an unconscious attempt to make more sound. You pluck, pick, strum or hit harder. You can’t help it. Next thing you know, your hands are cramping. After about ten minutes, you get what I call “The Claw.” Your hands lock up in a claw-like shape. It doesn't feel particularly good.

I must point out that I still support the MAPC. The gentlepeople involved were very polite. I believe that none of this took place as the result of any malicious intent. I think the sound person at the High Noon Saloon (sorry, dude, I didn’t get your name) did an admirable job under the circumstances. I will, however, rethink my position on benefit concerts. I don’t think this is a good model of how to treat people from whom you are asking favors. I’ve found that when you play without getting paid, people tend to assume, subconsciously, that your service has no value. It seems that many people have absolutely no idea how much work goes in to a performance on the part of the performers. If that ever happens again, that's it. I'm off the stage. I’ve been playing for too many years and my family has sacrificed too much to .... oh, screw it. I’m done.

Okay, Ed. Deep breath. Good. Now another. And another. That’s better. Okay. Thanks. Sorry about all that.

Thank you to everyone who came to hear us play. Despite all my griping, I enjoyed playing. It’s a joy to be a part of this group, to play with such fabulous (I like that word, fabulous, don’t you?) musicians and to play for all the wonderful people who come to hear us.

Rock on,
Ed