On Delusion ( A Scream for Hope)

I cannot believe that there is a greater drainage ditch for the self disillusions of people than the creative world.  I simply cannot.

If you hold disillusions in other fields, say a doctor or lawyer or mechanic or cabinet maker, reality will show you very very soon that you are not what you think you are. However, in the (sigh) subjective world of the creative arts, it seems alternate realities are not just par for the course, but the majority vote. And I speak of this from experience, from seeing first hand what people think they are and what they ACTUALLY are and have it make life range from amazingly comical to the very definition of tragedy.

I write this after being spurred on via a conversation with my friend Jim who was livid about how he heard someone getting major press by writing an album based on a divorce they went through. Allow me to state that this anger of his has some weight to it. He met Jimi Hendrix, is friends with Joni Mitchel, was in Ornette Coleman's band, jammed with Jaco Pastorius and John Scofield on a regular basis, has performed around the world (including the then USSR) with his theater troupe, and has more teaching, composing, and performance hours logged in than 1% of the professional musician population. He was livid that such horrible work could get any recognition based on what it was ABOUT, not what it WAS. While this is nothing new in the commercial field of Music, it seemed to hit a nerve.

I defer any and all discussion about the theoretically romantic life of the artist and all it entails to the brilliant essay by the late great David Rackoff called "Isn't It Romantic?" in his book "Half Empty". The absolute brilliance of his writing shines a light on the life of a working creative person though he was a writer, not a musician. The same principles still apply. So, Mr. Rackoff, wherever you may be, I tip my hat to you.

As for own slice of the reality pie, I have auditioned and (thankfully only a few times) worked with many people whose idea of self  differs so radically from the rest of creation that even the late Timothy Leary on a bender would stop and say, "Uh, no. Please stop."  Yes, my friends, it is that bad.

It seems that the audition process is like light to the moth for the illumination of this sort of behavior. When I have had auditions for bassists, cellists, drummers and vocalists, over and over and over again, as if by some communication through the lot of them, they were out of their minds. And what was the common thread? One simple thing: they could not play what was asked of them. Allow me to repeat that with some added information: they arrived at rehearsal having heard the tunes and theoretically having practiced the tunes, but could not play the tunes upon arrival. No, wait. They could not come close to performing the tunes when they got there.

Now, the Music of The Post Modern Tribe and 4,000,000 Silhouettes is not prog rock, none of the parts are in need of some prodigy to enter the room. It seems that singing is the worst. Why is that? Well, it would seem to logic that if a singer hears the songs, tries to sing them at home, cannot do so, they would not audition. The same is true for drummers, bassists, and cellists. If you cannot play the Music at home, why do you show up at the audition?

I believe it boils down to several points, the first of which being that they believe they can actually perform the part with the added bonus that, if they cannot play the part part at the audition, there is something so amazing about their inherent talent that it will shine through their clumsy performance and they shall rise like the ghost of Van Gogh to show the world their originality and life altering voice. Why? BECAUSE THEY ARE AMAZING!!!! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?!?!?

To be fair, when one auditions for anything, you are nothing more than a shoe being tried on. You may be a beautiful shoe with the right size, but you may not be the right shoe they are looking for. In the same way one cannot play proper tennis in a designer chukka boot, one cannot have a glorious tones alto sing Led Zeppelin. It is not a matter of talent, it is a matter of function. I have had amazing vocalists come to auditions, one lovely Austrian actress new to NYC comes to mind, who could simply not do what was expected. Not even close. She was wonderful and gifted, but where the disconnect was between what she heard and what she thought she could do was astounding.

Then there was the bassist who could barely keep up with the songs or the drummer who had to listen to the songs again at the audition after he choked on the parts. Surprise, he still screwed up the song even after the reminder. Or the cellist who decided to improvise on the written out cello parts before he had played the song once through.

But the worst, the absolute bastards, were the ones who would confirm the audition date and time, and then, after I rented the rehearsal space, never showed up. They would not call to say they were not coming. They would not email afterwards apologizing. They would just vanish.... until I put a different ad with a different email out and they would again reply to THAT ONE saying how great they were. No joke. To not even have basic human courtesy seems to be on par for the collision course.

In all my many years of auditioning, only one woman came in and did it right. Her name is Erin and she got there on time and prepared, but she told me right up front she could only do two of the five songs because that was all she had time for. Ya' know what? She hit those two songs out of the park. Later that day, after auditioning a woman who got to the audition 90 minutes late and who also decided to improv the vocals to a Led Zeppelin song by riffing on my shoes and playing lead guitar without asking, Erin was hired. While her time in the time in the band was short lived, she was always professional and did a great job. For that, I forever hold her in deep respect.

This is probably what fuels my anger the most: what the people who think they are professional are verses those who actually are professional. This is not the land of the television show based on "reality" nor is it the golden age of guitar based rock with a plethora of youth clamoring for new Music. This has to be something you love, not just like. This has to be something you believe in, not something you use as an escape from your life WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE IT. To be part of this tribe means that you will give blood for the cause, that it will not be easy but that you will treat the terms of the unspoken contract of the bond of musicians with greater respect than the best day job you could ever have. If you cannot do that, you are not on the team. You are a hobbyist, not a professional.

There are amazing bands out there who make great Music who have day jobs, but that is not the point. What is needed is for people to treat making their Music as seriously as they do their day job. If it is for "fun" and the standards of excellence are not there, fine. Seriously. There is no damn reason in the cosmos that Music should not be made simply for the joy of making it with friends and beer in the backyard. In fact, I think there needs to be more of that. People making Music verses listening to it for free and being passive about it. Music, for 99.99999% of its history has been live, not recorded.

But the line that separates the delusion from the reality is simple: sacrifice.  You have to love this life, not just like it. You have to sacrifice your own delusions about how great you are and practice practice practice till you are as good as you need to be. You have to listen back to that recording and go, "I suck. I have to work till I get it right." or "That great idea I had sucks. Gotta get rid of it and start over." We all need that glaring and unforgiving mirror of reality to shine on us so that we can be our best self. Yes, it is unbearably painful at times, but it is what it takes to be a professional.

Recently I did a wedding gig. We had to learn 31 songs and performed on all of them. (That's just the way the dice landed.) It was a huge amount of work and I spent hours alone in a room going over and over and over the songs. At the end of the day, the pay worked out to less than minimum wage due to paying my part for rehearsal studios, gas, and tolls. The time I spend alone in my back room going over songs seems to have no value, so that is not even part of the equation. I agreed to do the gig, so I did the gig. While there were a few falls on my part during the evening, all the major songs turned out well. We received praise from the wedding planners as well as guests ranging in age from 23 to 75.

Was it worth it financially? Was it "fun"? Did I have a great time? No. But once I agreed, I agreed and that is the end of it. It was a job doing what I have dedicated my life to doing. I did my best and was proud that strangers found joy in the team I was a part of. It was not about me, it was the team and it was a damn good team.

Years ago, just after my beloved friend Steve Hajdu Nemeth died of cancer, we auditioned a singer to fill his enormous vocal shoes. The only person to respond was a woman in her early 20's named Lizz. The audition went well and she was hired. She grew into a professional Musician who now fronts her own amazing band. Last year when I needed help at a show, she offered to help and it was great working with her again. Everyone was on the same page and we were back again making great Music. It went so well that we will be working a wedding this November as well as a blues album somewhere in the not to distant future. All of us know what we are in for, all of us know what we have to do, and all of us respect and like each other. This is a group of professionals.  This is amazing.

I once spoke to a famous director who used to work at an agency. He told me of the delusion and desperation that he would see day in and day out from people wanting to become famous. He told me of a story of a woman whose untalented child auditioned for something. He told them, very nicely, that he did not have anything for them at this time. The mother told the child to leave the office and wait out in the hall and to close the door behind him. She began to undo the buttons on her blouse while saying, "Mr. _________, I will do anything for you to give my child a chance." As this situation happened very often, he had a button installed under his desk that alerted the receptionist of what was going on. Immediately, the intercom bellowed, "Mr. ________, you have an urgent call on line one!" He would take the imaginary call as the secretary knocked on the door, the woman hurriedly buttoning up her  blouse.

Some of us don't have a buzzer. We just scream to God for them to leave.