Tuesday, April 22, 2008

The Gig Diaries

Anyone else who is or used to be a performing musician may find solace in this post.

I play jazz saxophone… Yes, part of my meager income comes from shameful, self-effacing gigs. And as a person who regards music with utmost seriousness (sometimes to my own disadvantage), it is as emotionally disheartening as it is socially humiliating. Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that the role of the modern-day performer has changed. Businesses don’t want music for music’s sake—they want the image of music being performed. Usually a companies’ tasteless entertainment contractor will dictate the role of the performer: they are the ones who tell you what, how, where and when to play. They are my artistic slaveholders and I am their music slave. Yes, they give me money for my services but they also enslave my artistic aesthetics.

Perhaps more appropriately, I am their musical prostitute. I accept their money and in return, I provide them with a submission of any values that may or may not have been already squandered. Once I was replete with my musical “womanhood”: my beautiful, unadulterated, Venusian body, my virginity and innocence…and I’ve sold it to the men on the street.

I’ve condensed the main types of gigs I play into a group of 4 categories:

1) The restaurant gig – this is the gig where you play in a small, make-shift corner of an upscale restaurant. This is the environment where it is very common for the restaurant owner (“asshole”) to impolitely order you to “play quieter” or suggest some vague adjective to describe a type of genre (i.e. “jazzier” or “peppier”). Usually after 3 hours of unresponsive, passionless playing, you leave to receive your 50 dollar check 3 months later.

2) The Corporate gig – or the “Wedding Gig”. This is the gig where you play every song that you’ve learned to hate because they have engulfed your audible existence. These are the songs that sneaky songwriters throughout the ages may or may not have inserted subliminal messages in an attempt to have you humming in shower. Also, these are the gigs where the audience is always drunk--shouting, song demanding and singing are the consequences. Oh yeah, and “Sweet Home Alabama” MUST be played. There are no exceptions. Nevertheless, these types of gigs generally pay well so I’m able to overlook some of these annoyances.

3) The Private Party gig- or the “I’m old, can I live vicariously through your music and youthfulness? Gig.” The audience is always old and it is usually a celebration of a 50th anniversary or a birthday. These are the gigs where I am paraded by old people who have some distant connection with jazz, saxophone or the standard jazz repertoire we tend to perform. I’m bombarded with stories from when they were young and asked repeatedly how old I am. I don’t really mind these encounters with the senior community and it enables me to justify my sometimes hostile, horn-honking episodes with old people on the road.

4) The REAL gig – Yes…some people are fortunate enough to play music for an attentive audience at a real, “performance” venue where people have come to actually listen to the music. This is the gig that I used to think I’d be playing when I was young and naïve.

Please don’t think that I expect sympathy from this post. The main intent of this post was humor. That being said, even though most of these generalizations are taken from my experiences here in Miami, I still believe that many of these stereotypes are ubiquitous to other regions of the U.S. as well. So next time you take a date to that nice, upscale restaurant, remember that I am that pitiable guy in the band looking disinterested, still waiting for the next impolite command from the owner. I hope it’s a good conversation starter.

4 comments:

Zach Wallmark said...

Very true, Nolan - I've had these thoughts often as I pluck the strings of my bass like a seal honking on horns for a fish.

Two things are amazing to me about the state of jazz in the US: its invisibility and its market value. In every major American market save New York, jazzers are those pitiable fellows you see in the corner at a restaurant, the whip-wielding manager close by. Jazz is not given a place at the table of American high culture (unless you count "Jazz at Lincoln Center"), although it is often called our only original "classical music." You'd think, therefore, that there'd be at least some government subsidies involved in keeping the scene vibrant. After all, Canada, Denmark, Japan, Germany, and many other industrialized nations subsidize jazz. But in America, it is invisible.

There is a profound gap between the amount of time and dedication it takes to acquire the skills to negotiate basic chord changes and the market value for said skills. A snazzy ambiance, after all, isn't worth all that much: an owner could just dim the lights and paint the walls crimson if they're looking for more atmosphere, they don't need us. It is ironic to me that jazz has become a symbol of cool sophistication when it's playing in the background at Starbucks, but the very musicians who are producing this difficult music could make a lot more money with a full-time job at 7-11.

Looking forward to more posts!

Alan Biller said...

I sympathize entirely. But you left out the "original music gig," where you call a few of your fellow working musicians to play your "modern compositions." Maybe you have a rehearsal or two, maybe you make a flier to give to all of your friends, or send out massive emails to everyone you've ever met. It's usually either for tips or the door, but one thing is certain - at the end of the evening, you get to pay out these hard-working friends of yours a cut of the 40 dollars you were able to collect from the seven of your other friends who were kind enough to show up. But, at least you didn't have to play "The Electric Slide."

Ruxton Schuh said...

Zach, Jazz at Lincoln Center is like classical for the suburbs. Wynton Marsallis and Steve Jobs are brothers of other mothers: shove your product in schools and let the rest fall into place.

Nolan, there are other possibilities, my good man! Why, you are the foundation, the next link in the chain of American musical evolution. You have that, thing, that folk-y roots music thing. If you want to make it big, fuse your Jazz with a punk band and give yourselves a two-word name, like Heroin Satchmo. Seriously, you can sign to One Side Dummy records and live the good life.

Ruxton Schuh said...

Side One Dummy. Jesus I need sleep.