January 14th, 2010.

We arrived in Anaheim, CA Wednesday night and engaged in battle with the luggage carousel, a cabbie and finally our hotel door, but eventually we DID make it to bed. The hotel’s divided into two halves with the “Skyway” joining them. I guess every hotel around here’s got to have a gimmick, even the cheap ones – and we didn’t realize how far the gimmick extended until we turned off the lights in the hotel room. The ceiling is covered in a galaxy of glow-in-the-dark stars! And there’s even an ultraviolet light in the wall to charge them up. Twrr.
Yup. We’re DEFINITELY across the street from Disney. Come ON Mickey! Give that dog your bone!!!

Anaheim, California is overrun by two principle species at this moment: the aging rockerand the underage princess.  I’m closer to the former than the latter, but some people would accuse me of being something of a mix.  The NAMM show is across the road from Disneyland, and the mix out on the streets is somewhat reminiscent of the kids museums in Myrtle Beach during Biker Week. 

Oddly enough, one of the first things we encountered upon entry to the NAMM show was the Batmobile. Not the Tumbler (been there, seen that) but the original. Well – MAYBE the original. Unfortunately, with the focus on the bat-shaped guitars the company was selling, noone seemed to be able to tell me much about the car.

There’s definitely a look to my chosen profession – and another look for my secondary profession, and it is that second look on display today.  Guys (and occasional girls) in bands in flamboyant, stylish dress.  Probably most notable for the care they’ve applied to their hair, it’s a style that I’ll never be able to sign on to.  Anyone 30 and under seems to ascribe to one of two churches.  On the one side is the emo crowd, with their dyed black locks plastered to their faces, their tight girlie-jeans crushing any hope of breeding and their dark eye-makeup amplifying a corpse-like visage.  On the other is the metal-head, more likely death-metal nowadays.  Lots of leather is prominent in both crowds.  Mixed in for good measure are a smattering of dreadlocked  hippie rockers and rockabilly hipsters.

Dave momentarily thought these cases were a great idea. I was really excited – but thought he was crazy. Unfortunately, he came to his senses and decided he wasn’t crazy and the idea wasn’t that great. Sigh.

Cross the line into the 40s and up and it’s either the metal-mullets of the 80s or bushy beards of bluegrass mixed liberally with clean-cut business-men trying to sell their wares. 

A surprising contingent of Japanese is here, selling everything from ukuleles to transistors to volume pots to high end flamenco guitars.  They are uniformly beautifully well-groomed with slightly-ignored looking immaculate booths set up more like business offices and conference rooms than music stores.  It’s the one cultural difference that seems to really stand out.

We hooked up with Brennan in his capacity as a “Retail Buyer” for Bill’s Music Warehouse. He also thought they were a great idea. The above pattern on a hardcase? I could fly with my GOOD guitar!!

Booth babes are highly prominent.  Leather is in prominence, as is skin.  Almost uniformly bright, bleached-blondes, they are corseted and be-heeled and marginally emaciated.  It’s a different world.  They are the eye-candy of the electric guitar booths, often more advertised than the instruments themselves, which is a shame because the spectacular inorganic craftsmanship on display is completely worthy.  The sluts just sort of degrade it a bit.  I understand they’re part of the scene, and part of the fun – but it means that there are gaggles of guys blocking my passage as I rush to get to my next appointment, and it starts my brain turning too hard on what the women themselves are like.  If there are “officially unofficial” duties that are part of shady deals far above our price-range and far below our scruples… if any of them are musicians, with their talents being ignored in favour of their more prominent attributes…

There weren’t that many cars at the show – and I have no idea what this one was advertising – but i figured Jade would like it.
Okay – so we’re not shopping for ourselves. I swear I’m not shopping for carbon fiber guirars – and Kristen’s NOT shopping for electric cellos. We’re just making SURE we don’t need to carry CA and ND instruments in the store. Delicious instrument.

In our profession we’ve got to be pretty, and sex sells in music, there’s no arguing that.  But I’m proud that we’re part of a classier element of that.  Heather’s gorgeous and Rowan’s hot and Sharif is cute as Hell – some have even been known to consider me a dish – but we’re not all breasts and skin and tramp-stamp tattoos and so I don’t know how these creatures are treated.  They are untouchable to me for their implied touchability and they giggle and bend and smile and I wonder if they find value in what they are doing, or if it’s just a paycheck – and if they can truly believe a man can be interested in them beyond their looks or if that exaggerated beauty undermines every compliment.  (yes, Megan Fox, I believe you).

Sonething else we don’t need – but I’m kind of glad to know it exists. You know – not from hookers.

Enough out of me.  It’s been a long day of commerce and wheeling, dealing and sensory overload.  We’re off to see my friend Seth Horan perform before heading back to the hotel and blessing out over some cartoons and some junk food. 

Well – actually after seeing all the eye-candy, perhaps just a salad.

One of the coolest parts of the whole NAMM show experience was meeting other musicians. Really amazing players who are just SO excited about the toys and devices and instruments. Here is the guitarist for The Vignatis, a “rockabilly gypsy jazz” band from France. He was all too happy to demo a couple of Django-styled guitars for us. We was pleased.

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