New Bunny! 
New Leia! New Wallpaper (at my new open mic!)
I’m too old. I’m also too young. It’s a pretty awkward place to be. I spend a lot of time pretty damned frustrated, and then trying to relax, and not being good at the latter. I’m too wound up to just chill out and I’ve got too great a sense of perspective to stay angry about most things – but my body doesn’t necessarily understand that and gets a bottled up, difficult-to-breathe, hot in the chest, compressed, red-faced SCREAMING feeling all too often.
It could be stress. It could be embarrassment. It could be rage, depression, left-over teen angst, sunburn or too much caffeine, but I find it inordinately difficult to just let that feeling defuse and disperse. Every single one of my “hats” weighs heavily on my head at one point or another – often at least once a day. Whether it’s something that I’m booking or someplace that I’m booked. An unhappy open mic listee or listener, someone at the House of Musical Traditions that’s received some perceived slight or someone who’s instrument isn’t worth fixing – someone who’s angry because they can’t afford their political convictions (why are you angry at ME that American labourers “demand so much money”?!) – whether it’s a printer driver that won’t install or a phone message that doesn’t come through, a lyric I’ve forgotten or a cat that wants my omelete or a word that I can’t spell (like omellette … er… omelet… ah HA!!! Omelet!) – there are just SO many little frustrations that I’m not able to just brush off that won’t affect my Life tomorrow – if I can let it go and not continue to think about it…. Life would just be better for everyone.
But I worry that as I get older every little thing builds up. Even if I release 99% of the tension, that 1% is still there, and the 1% for the next thing, and the next thing… and now I’m getting up to almost 40 years of letting go of 99% of my stress, but that 1% is threatening to just burst the dams because 1% of 100 incidents just adds back up to a full tank of rage eventually.
And yet I spend my days letting other people get the last word because it’s not worth firing back. Because I know that in the long run THIS doesn’t matter. But how much of my Life do I fritter away that way? Will it all build up and I’ll punch someone who bitches too much about the sound at my open mic some night? Most of those interactions that truly enrage me are digital, and those little red flags that indicate a conversation that I walked away from because picking at it won’t make it better sparkle and wink at me reminding me that even though no-one’s got skin in the game and at most about 10 minutes of my Life were wasted by this individual, I let them walk away thinking “ha, I told HIM!!!”
At the moment it’s over a booking agent who after much back and forth finally got around to scoffing at my budget and informing me that the band she booked were NATIONALLY TOURING and too PROFESSIONAL for me. Weeeellllll – I’d like to shoot back that they weren’t touring so heavily or SO professional that they’ve got a booking agent that does her research… but where does that get me?
It gets me griping about it in my Journal. Thanks for listening dear reader… the world’s just a little frustrating right now.
I had intended to write about the weird place that a 39 year-old occupies on the music scene, but I got interrupted by the above email exchange… my old, old, old friend Chris dropped into HMT the other day and we chatted about what we do now and where we’ve come from and where we’re going. Years ago we were in a cover band together called Area 51 and we played Rage Against the Machine and Men Without Hats and the Cure and AC/DC and whatever it is that we WANTED to play. He’s still working in cover bands, I’m still working in MY band, but we’re both hitting the same phenomena: everyone our age is dropping out. They’ re starting families, have given up on the dream or pausing it realizing that they’ve either got other priorities or that they’ve gotten nowhere.
It’s a depressing time, really. It means that either everyone is younger than us, full of bright-eyed idealism, not yet worn down by the scene but full of contempt for their elders – or they’re older – people have their kids at 30 somethin’ and around 50 somethin’ those kids are out of the house and those people are hankering to get back into it, dust off their guitars and keyboards and amplifiers and drumkits and re-join the music scene they’ve abandoned. Some of them are monsters and rejoin with chops from Hell, having kept the muscles and reflexes sharp with late night practices and some basement jams with friends… others are rusty and are a joy to watch as they re-establish old skills. Some are sad sacks who either quit for good reason or who’ve lost it and will never get it back but who have memories of the good ole days that have been filtered through the sepia and gold of golden years.
Ah yes – the memories. And some say they played with the greats. And some of them probably did. And some of them still could. And some of them… some of them garner half-hidden smiles and poorly-shielded contempt, and I just try to be nice because there but for the grace of my own will and strength and body and mind go I.
As an open mic host I’m encouraging to all. As a performer I’m in turns wary and in awe, saddened and afraid. As a booker I try to be nice to people, kind but firm. I try to smile a lot and have cultivated a persona that’s gruff but encouraging but makes sure certain lines don’t get crossed. I’m probably too kind-of-heart for my job and probably too externally angry for my scene. Thanks for bearing with me.
I’m 39 and not dropping out. I’m the old guy with many and the young guy for some. I’m also an unapologetic bad-ass. In my own mind at least. But something has GOT to change. I just have NO idea what.
