Live music is here again. Thanks to our recent shared alone time, live performance has been somewhat absent. Has its absence made your heart grow fonder? Anyone who knows me knows that music is a huge part of my life, sitting behind a drum kit is somewhere I live to be, and anytime I am without for more than a few weeks, I will feel off kilter. It’s my mental health program.
Music is an ethereal decoration of the time we share. Before we could record it, before we could write it down, it was only shared through the doing. The doing and the witnessing is still the very best way to experience it, IMHO. I am of the opinion that every person alive should make these organized noises at some point in their lives, regardless of your perceived “talent.” Do it for yourself, even if no one else ever sees it.
It’s strange how we treat those who show an aptitude in this talent. Unless you are at the peak of popularity, the time spent preparing yourself and performing for your fellow humans isn’t worth all that much. I don’t do it for the money, but I know a good many who depend on this income to survive. A musician is someone who puts $5,000 worth of gear into a $500 car, drives 50 miles to make $50. It’s funny because it’s true. We have this strange obsession that an artist should suffer for their art, so we aid their suffering by not giving them a fair wage for the time they spend in it’s creation. We justify it by saying, “they love what they do, and would do it anyway” and use this excuse to undervalue so many others who contribute to our well being (teachers, farmers, nurses, etc.). There are those who have huge talents but undervalue themselves and would give it away, devaluing it for all practitioners. Many a venue encourages musicians to donate their time and talents to increase their profits. Volunteerism in the name of community is another thing close to my heart, but if I spend four hours entertaining your customers, you better pony up or don’t expect me back, sorry. An example of a more equitable arrangement is some places offer a small guarantee and a percentage of sales, nice.
I will always play music, but even after 40 years, I still put money out of pocket to share this decoration of the time we have together. I was sure that when the plague was over (isn’t it?) we would be shelling out a wee bit more for the privilege of being in a room with people who have harnessed the power of using their throats and bits of steel and wood to make vibrations in the air into some kind of nonphysical, mind altering substance. I swear its magic.
You may not hear from me for a while, I am playing seven shows in the next four weeks, be good to each other, tip your server and adopt a musician.
