Aron Michalski: Writing

A better list

Mon, 17 Oct 2005 06:28:01 GMT

follow this link to a list of all poems and short stories...

Complete poem and story list

1995: A Fine Bitter Year...

Mon, 11 Apr 2005 03:27:49 GMT

It was a two tour year, Megadeth and Little Feat, a breakup and lotsa travel... enjoy

1/26/95

3/26/95-dude band part 1

4/7/95- dude band part 2

4/10/95- dude band part 3

4/14/95- four way blues

4/14/95 #2- the pupil

4/17/95- stop already

4/17/95 #2- one wonders

4/30/95- happy again

5/29/95

5/29/95 #2- Noriko

5/29/95 #3- Nara

5/31/95- Shinkansen

6/1/95- ah, but the smell of it

6/5/95- huh?

8/17/95- dude band part 5

8/31/95

8/31/95 #2

9/3/95

9/4/95

9/5/95

9/11/95

10/8/95

11/7/95- welcome to Europe: crank it up...

11/7/95- family

11/8/95- beyond arm's reach

11/19/95- Dammit Jim!

12/1/95- three feet tall on the Reperbahn

12/1/95- that's a wrap, enjoy the buffet...

12/2/95- visually marrying passing strangers on a corner in Copenhagen on a friday afternoon...

12/2/95- a study

Added poems from 2000

Mon, 28 Mar 2005 19:47:42 GMT

Oh, there's more coming but here's a group from 2000, and I'm trying to see if this system works...

Newly posted poems from the year 2000:

2/23/00

2/25/00

2/29/00

3/4/00

3/19/00

6/14/00

7/14/00

7/27/00

7/29 & 8/30/00- film

9/11/00

10/14/00

10/27/00

10/30/00

10/31/00

11/23/00

Strung Out

Thu, 24 Feb 2005 02:53:36 GMT

10/11/02

    The transition of travel since 9/11 is a story of extremes. Those who fly on a regular basis have learned what to check and what you can carry on. In the first year there have been some inconsistencies in the criteria. The obvious items are not in question. Following the Richard Reid incident, shoes are regularly pulled from feet and passed through the x-ray machine. As the rules changed and the personnel tried to adapt, certain things became strange.

    I was flying out of a Southern Californian airport, already having made sure that all my tools were far away in my suitcase, even the dull drum key I carry for work there after a screener spent nearly two minutes inspecting it three inches from the end of his nose. I'm used to having all my pens checked and having to take a sip from my water bottle before coming over to the other side.

    I have worn a plain black fanny pack for many years on the job and off. It's a handy place for my wallet, my cell phone, pens, tools, chewing gum and the various talismans I insist on having with me at all times. Being able to reach into my pouch and handle the polished piece of hematite worry stone, the silver dollar, the various medallions or the small replica of Stonehenge brings me a grounding I need from time to time. For many years carrying things in my pants pockets was not an option, unless I wanted them melted down to basic elemental form by the end of the day from the heat and sweat.

    Another talisman I carry is the keychain that my house keys, car keys and scan tags all hang off of. It was given to me by my mother after a trip to my childhood summer home of Great Cranberry Isle, Maine. From when I was five or six, the jewelry art of the boats men has always been to my liking. The natural progression of watching my Turks Head Knot bracelet change from bright white when it was bought to the darker, funkier gray was a good way to gauge the summer's remaining days. I would wear mine as long as I could, even prying it's shrunken grip from my wrist for a stern washing and bleaching.

    My mother knowing my love for these simple things got me this keychain, which is a simple small knot, called a Monkey's Paw. It is a round ball about an inch in diameter. Made of thin white string, it is a reminder of a simpler time up there, on the water and in the sun. I've had it for nearly twelve years.

    As I passed through the security checkpoint, the woman on the x-ray machine asked if she could search my fanny pack. I said yeas and she proceeded to pull my keys out and inform me that I could not go any further unless I removed my keychain.

    I was instantly confused. I asked her why the keychain was now considered unacceptable after nearly twelve years of flying with it and nearly five months after 9/11. She informed me that my keychain was classified as a weapon, was known as a "Billy Ball" and had been considered such for quite some time. She gave me the choice of surrendering it to her trash can, checking my carry on bag under the plane with it inside or returning to the main terminal gift shop to purchase an envelope and stamps to mail it to myself.

    I didn't want to throw it away; I sure didn't want to check my carry on bag (that's why it's a carry on), so I tried to be understanding and returned to the gift shop where they were charging three dollars for a simple white letter size envelope and $7.80 for $3.40 worth of stamps. This triggered my righteous indignation circuit. This usually is a problem.

    I returned to the security checkpoint. I began to try to reason with the young lady (who was the supervisor of a number of older employees). I explained that it was a keepsake from my mother. I explained that I had flown with it for twelve years and at least six times since 9/11 including two international flights. I don't think I even got a blink out of her. Some other, deeper, more primal circuit flipped inside my head.

    "Ma'am, it's a piece of string. If I was to unwrap it and put it in my pocket, it would be a piece of string," I said.

    "Sir, it's considered a weapon," she said.

    I considered using it as one but realized it would be totally inefficient and never do enough damage or cause enough fear. It would be like trying to bludgeon someone with a stale mini muffin or doughnut hole. I decided not to share this with her.

    Even in this heightened state of security, I tried to imagine a cold, calculating terrorist holding a full plane at bay with a one-inch key fob made of string. Perhaps using the attached jagged house key with my other hand... it seemed like a reach.

    Reason was not going to work. Subterfuge was an option as I could have carried it through the metal detector without a peep but that didn't come to mind. With all the communication skills I gained through my upbringing, college and traveling the world, I went with the next obvious choice: passive/ aggressive shame.

    She could not see the warm summer days on the seashore. She couldn't see the love in my mother's eyes. She couldn't see past the guidelines her boss had given her.

    I suppose I could have checked my carry on bag and risked breaking the delicate things it carried, limiting myself to one book instead of six and eight CD's instead of a hundred and forty. I also could have spent the $10.80 to attempt to send it to myself at home. In the end I surrendered it to her trashcan, hoping to make her feel stupid (she didn't) and trying to act grown up (I wasn't).

    As I usually do when these things put me into a tizzy, I called my wife and she had a few logical common sense suggestions. It was too late, I was down the concourse, my flight was being called and the string key chain sat in a gray trash can with a clear plastic liner with the other weapons, nail clippers, stale Jujubes, and other bits of string.

The next day I heard on the news that the security company she worked for was losing all of their airport contracts and all the screeners were being fired. I felt vindicated for a few seconds but in the end, I'm still sad that we now have to search our own bags before we leave for the airport and that now we'll never know what they[base ']ll look for next.

    A few years back I was traveling to Israel on business and saw that our departure to the airport was nearly four hours before the flight was to leave. Our bags were screened by a team at our hotel early that morning and secured. We spent a half hour at a security checkpoint a mile outside the terminal, individually we were interviewed as we checked in, again at the x-ray machine, once at a random check in the shopping area and a last time as we boarded the plane. With all the problems they have had, they took very few chances. Most American travelers and probably all of the American companies would never stand for this, the inconvenience and the time consumption. What we experience now is still so casual compared to places that have experienced terror for the lifetime of their airport.

    It's too bad that we have to have security at the airport. I'm glad we do though because humanity seems pretty predictable. Perhaps we'll all be restricted to not carrying any personal belongings in the cabin or having Nerf or plush version of office supplies. No hardback books. Only felt tip pens or crayons. Kind of like county jail on suicide watch. Then in first class they'll serve a meal on china plates with real flatware including a knife. You can't ask certain people to be punished for being successful.

    I'm going to carry a few things if I can back in coach. Something to write with and write on for starters, as I seem to write mostly in the air nowadays. A good paperback and the beautiful bookmark my wife made for me; a bottle of water and a self addressed stamped envelope in case the rules change. Some things are not worth giving up and cannot be taken by security: your memories; your connections to the ones you love; the experiences that make you who you are. Material things by nature are transient. The ones that hold value to you should be protected.

    I felt bad about losing that key chain. I liked its size and its style. I liked that it reminded me of Maine and my Mom. But in the end, it's just a thing. And like I told the woman at the airport "It's just a piece of string".

Waiting for the phone to ring

Thu, 24 Feb 2005 02:52:10 GMT

11/6/02

    I had a conversation the other day with a dear friend that included the sentence "You're only as good as your last job". Actually in her case it was her "last deal" as she sells real estate. I wonder if it has to do more with the kind of jobs we have or with the kind of confidence we have in our work.

    This time of the year is the beginning of the questionable mental health period for sub-contractors and other freelance workers. The dwindling money and the seasonal slowdown adds fuel to the silly season fire. As the road people find their way home for the holidays and often at the completion of a tour, a small voice gets louder and louder in the personal mental choir: "You'll NEVER work again!!!"

    Years of practice, involvement in faith based support groups and the fact that I've got a pretty good credit rating help quiet that hysterical voice. I get by; there has always been a roof over my head and I never miss a meal... except when I'm at work. I like to remind myself of the times in the mid-90's when I was down to my last twenty dollars in my checking account before the first check came in. This was before my wife introduced me to savings accounts. It reminds me to have faith.

    Some days it lasts seconds.

    In my line of work I've had the opportunity to work for some of the greatest musicians in the world. I've never been sent home before the tour was over. I've often been called to replace those who are. As an old friend used to say "Nobody yelled and nobody threw anything; it was a good day." That's success. I'm not a world-class expert. I'm just a guy who sets stuff up and makes sure it works so other people can use it.

I'm a roadie.

    Now before your mind jumps to some rumor/ fantasy/ bad movie scenario, let me share one thing; it's just a job. It's just a glamorous as accounting or janitorial service (but markedly less glamorous than marketing research). It has few benefits (free black t-shirts for one): no job security, no health insurance, and no pension. Almost everything financial is a verbal agreement... no contracts, no union. You have to depend on people who go by names that sound like wrestling holds. Sometimes your workday is affected by a person that your seven-year-old nephew knows ingests more toxins than the Crocodile Hunter or spends every morning watching the Teletubbies. It's not that much different than corporate America. In fact, it is now a part of corporate America.

    Most of our employers work for one of the big five record companies. The touring promotion business is now nearly wholly owned by a radio and billboard corporation. Many of the hippies and counter culture people who came up through the concert business never having to wear a suit and tie or dress clothes have to go to weekly lunch and learns or strategy meetings. It's not your daddy's rock concert anymore.

    A business that was fueled on drugs, sex and cash when it started has grown up to be an arm of someone's media conglomerate. The tribal act of gathering to watch someone perform, entertain and commune with the divine has become a way to sell concessions and charge for parking. The recording and promotion angle still has some worth, but it's becoming a way to stoke egos, sell t-shirts and get the last of someone's disposable income spread around.

    The last paragraph seems pretty cynical, but it's just one facet of the touring world. It's still a way for artists to make a living sharing their music with people in real time and perhaps bringing a bright moment to some mundane existences. There are some valid artists out there in stadiums, arenas and theatres, not just on street corners and living rooms. There are also nice people who enjoy entertaining others because it is their calling. For every three emotionally damaged, ego driven attention magnets onstage there probably is one person sharing what they have the best they can, for better or worse.

    The reason why this time of year is an issue is that touring has become more of a seasonal business. With outdoor amphitheaters all over the continent and kids being on summer vacation, it provides an entire circuit for bands to play. As the fall arrives and the temperature drops, bands wander home and begin to record their next project. The process can take months and then the media company wants time to market, advertise, promote, time and schedule the release. Out in the spring, tour all summer and back in the studio in the fall... the machine cranks out more CD's to sell.

    When I started writing this I wanted to express my feelings about how my work and it's insecure nature makes me feel... insecure. I think it's a bit of a stretch to describe the road life as a calling. Those who are not cut out for it are thinned out quickly. Many of us were fooled into it initially. Once you get comfortable out there, it's got you until you're done. Many "retire' from the road and return time and again. The money has a lot to do with it but the moving plays a big part.

    Showbiz, the circus, the irresponsible life... many people are running from something, perhaps all of them. The long hours, the mostly thankless work, bad food, suitcase living... how can that be appealing? As much as some of us yearn for a home and something to return to, the being away is what makes it so special. I do enjoy the travel, the time off in different places, the old and new faces... and I enjoy the job.

    Doing shows has more than a few dualities. You're often in a brand new place doing the same old thing. Once the schedule and itinerary smooth out, it's easy just to read the day sheet and plan your day around that. It's a job that people see as exclusive and glamorous that can grind like factory work some days. Because it is show biz, regular folks treat you different now and again. It can be fun... even if you know me and my infamous inability to have fun, I will say that about the job.

    Packing my bags and leaving the house for a period of time is still an adventure for me. I'm not sure if others feel the same way as part of the job is acting jaded and indifferent. I've always said to people who ask me how to get into the business to be careful, that it is a trap. Once you go out and survive for a while, it's hard to go do something else.

    I've actually tried to think of what else I would want to do, a dream, an alternative, something to keep me close to home and earn a living. I still don't have a clue. Perhaps it's because a part of me won't let go of the road. Writing like this sometimes gives me a glimmer of something else, a creative possibility that will allow me a voice and a path elsewhere. I find my use of words interesting here too... else, as in or else or what else.

    Many people go through life without realizing their passion or acting on it. The folks who are compelled, won't stop, can't stop, the ones who it verges on a mania, I admire them. I used to play music and at some point the joy departed and the flame went out. I think I was using it to light a bong. For too many years I went through life without a creative outlet and perhaps that was the time when I was the closest to death.

    I'm sure my addictions were the main reason, but the thing about spiritual bankruptcy is there is nothing left but self. I still have days when I don't like living with myself; back then I would have drowned myself if I had the chance. Believe me, I tried.

    Things changed. Life is full now; many blessings have been bestowed upon me. I'm back on the path most days and the searching continues. I have lived on the road three times longer sober than I did drunk. It can be done; better, faster and happier. Even the party cities are better and I can visit the places I was too paralyzed or hung over to enjoy.

    I really wish that travel or schooling abroad were mandatory for American kids today. They could use the perspective of why the USA is so amazing and so truly fucked up at the same time. I have guys in their 50's who I travel with who I'm still trying to show the difference between "different" and "wrong". To look in from the outside can change your life. It's too bad that so many Americans can leave the country and never really be outside.

    Off I go again, a valid point but not the one I set out to make. In speaking with someone about this issue who is outside the business he had this comment that floored me with its insight: perhaps I don't have an identity or autonomy until I'm on the road. What a heavy thing to consider about yourself after nearly forty years. Why would a somewhat well adjusted adult feel like a visitor in his own town sometimes? But then stick him in a crew of strangers in a foreign country and he feels like he belongs?

    Moving to another state and getting married was a major change for me after living alone for fifteen years. Having a house as opposed to storage with AC and a phone line is a thing of comfort and no small amount of pride. When Angela and I completed our dining room and then had a place to feed and entertain guests, I realized that something had changed. I never had a guest room where anyone could spend the night. I never had a room where eight people could eat a meal together. Angela and, to a small degree I, had created a home to share with friends and family. It may seem strange to you that these things are new first time experiences for an old fellow like me. If you are in my business you're probably wondering what the hell I[base ']m talking about.

    There is a balance here somewhere. The problem is the work is so unpredictable: too much, too little, no security. The easiest way to get a work call is plan a trip or an important event; the phone will ring. As the dining rooms are built and the plans are made the only question is: what is more important?

(I wonder if this is more of a personal question rather than rhetorical...)

    Well, home is more important. Your family and your health is too. This is the strange thing about work and work away from home especially. To build and maintain these things you have to earn a living so you can live your life. Many people can not delineate between living and life. The fibrous tangle of our jobs holds us back or pulls us down. How many children have spent their childhood wondering where their parent is? How many marriages have ended when the answer to the question about whether the job or the relationship is more important is not acceptable? The road is littered with divorce papers and sad notes from sons and daughters. There are a lot of bachelors too.

    It takes tremendous efforts on both ends of the phone to make it work. Understanding and sacrifice are needed as well as both parties being somewhat comfortable and secure apart. It's just like any other relationship in that there has to be acceptance of who each other is. This is the idealized opinion of someone on one side of the argument though...

    I still want to make a living by touring. I also want my marriage strong, warm and growing forward. I need my home to be comfortable, safe and part of who I am as a living, breathing evolving human being. I need to do my part and be present and productive in both places. I need to be open to both my wife and family and who I am, who I have become. I am part of the production staff, the technical crew, the traveling party, the bus riders, the lobby dwellers, the airport throng, the backstage group, the road dogs, the tour scum. I am also a husband, partner, brother, son and friend.

    When I first go into this business I went to work for a cartage company in Los Angeles. My boss was a long time road person who had bought the company to be home and make a living. For a time I was his only employee and we often put in 90 hours a week. We shared our warehouse with another business nearby. We returned one afternoon to find the other tenant removing the roll-up door, the security system, all the lighting fixtures and who knows what else. He was basically going to leave our inventory wide open to the honest junkies of Hollywood Blvd. as he took what he felt were his belongings and moved out.

    My boss Pat shifted into a gear I'd never seen him in before. He mobilized friends, solved scheduling problems, ran the business and secured the building before sundown. He turned to me as it became clear that we handled this unbelievable day with an angry yet victorious eye. He said "They shouldn't have screwed with us. They didn't know who we were. We're road people and the show always goes on, no matter what."

    This is the other family I was adopted into. They got me through some tough times, took me places and got me home in one piece. I learned a lot, earned a lot and it's part of who I am today. I'm someone who gets paid to wake up in parking lots. I'm someone who's tired of your favorite song. I'm someone who was onstage all night but you won't recognize me five minutes afterwards. I'm a roadie. And I'm still waiting for that phone to ring.

why there are no roadie awards...

Tue, 22 Feb 2005 03:04:57 GMT

2/20/05

    I recently received an email from a friend who also works in the touring business that put an idea in my head. He was informing me about a job position that had been filled by someone who he admired and that he was a fan of his work. For a moment I had an idea of a poll of backline techs about backline techs and who they thought were the best guys or gals in their departments. I mean after all, there are other people who we work with who are voted on and receive awards each year from various trade magazines and associations. Even the buildings we work in get prizes (though few of them deserve them on merits we would bestow upon them).

    For those of you who do not know what a backline tech is, it's someone who is responsible for the set up, maintenance and performance support of musical instruments and equipment. This can be drums and cymbals, guitars and amps, pianos, organs, keyboards and computers, horns, percussion and all the other goodies you see the musicians play.

    Every day before the show these things are unloaded from the truck or bus, set up and tested. There are strings and heads to change, things to be polished and made pretty and items to repair and replace. During the show, the techs will tune guitars and deliver guitars, deliver drinks, towels and tempos, relay information to the sound people for the musicians and other personal details. Some may play parts from the side of the stage. They will also try to repair or replace anything that fails during the show so that it can continue.

    It became clearer that such a poll would be nearly impossible, as a consensus could never really happen. There are more than a few reasons why I think this.

    In starting this essay, I used an outliner to organize these reasons and the list became huge. It starts off as a basic subjective/objective argument and becomes slightly self-obsessive in how important any one tech can be in an organization.

(OK, time for a disclaimer: though I've made my living with a number of job titles in the music business, I have spent most of my time as a backline tech. I am talking about me and others like me, so I am slightly biased. They say write about what you know, so... )

    To begin, I believe that any data collected would be skewed and inaccurate. I know who I know; my friends and co-workers know who they know. Though it is a small business, we would most likely never get a clear sample of who's working now, who was good then and who is going to be great in the future.

    Also, because this is a live art form and we tend to not be anywhere for longer than 20 hours, it's hard to judge overall performance unless you are on tour with the person you are rating. This might be fine for guitar techs (who often roam in twos or threes), there is rarely more than one drum or key tech unless they are with a support act or double bill.

    I have had the experience of being on a seven man and eight man backline crew. I have been one man responsible for a seven-piece band. More often it's three or four people doing a couple of jobs. When I've worked on larger tours I've been able to see other techs work up close for a longer period of time and get a fair assessment of their value. I have also gotten a sense of others when there is more than one band on the show. This is not always a guarantee as sometimes you are too busy to watch someone else work. There is also the case of when they are working, it is the only time you have to chill out away from the noise and hoopla.

    I spent my early years on the jazz circuit. I then moved into a series of singer/songwriter type acts. I hardly knew anyone in the hard rock/ heavy metal or country circles (though I do now). There are people who I have heard of for twenty years and have never met. As small as the business is, there are always good people who we don't know. This would certainly lead to difficulty in pronouncing someone "best"anything.

    Having friends you have worked with over time or on a regular basis may be a plus or a minus. They may have a fair assessment of you; they may overlook some of your more glaring shortcomings; they may disrespect you because you took their bunk on the bus. I have also found that people in the same category place value on you for different reasons, not always positive. Perhaps you are the perfect substitute because they know you're not good enough to knock them out of that job if they ever want it back.

    As time passes (quickly it seems), our job skills and requirements change. It is really important for us to stay educated in the latest gear and its applications. Some "old school" skills are still needed but we don't want to be left behind. With a dependence on computers for composition and performance, key techs especially have to read a lot. You might be asked if you can tune a grand piano, run Pro Tools sequencing software and re-string a djembe on a gig. Others just know everything about Hammond organs; they get to do organ gigs. With some younger acts it might be more important if you can drink a lot of beer, hack a PlayStation 2 game console and get a quote the singer made at last night's show into the drummer's Bluetooth phone after sound check.

    This of course brings us to the musicians. They are a special breed and each kind is a unique sub-category. This is why the job of a backline tech is often not coveted by others on the road because you have to deal with "them". Many backline techs are or were musicians at some point. This is not always the case but it is prevalent.

    First and foremost, most musicians HATE looking like idiots on stage when their gear doesn't work. They want to have someone they can trust to have their back when things go wrong. Some musicians are very hands on and know what every knob and button does. Others couldn't care less; it's the tech's problem and if it goes wrong, guess who is to blame. The psychological element of being a backline tech is huge; gaining and keeping the confidence of a performer can often be a majority of the skill a tech brings into his job. How much of that is BS and how much isn't usually gets figured out after the first major equipment failure.

    This is a point I hate to bring up but have to because it is a reality. There are those who use their techs as a focus for everything that goes wrong, real or imagined. They may be to blame for errors that the musician made during the show himself. They may just ask for something wrong so they can be mean. A musician may just spin a perfectly good tech into a tizzy until he doesn't know which end is up. These techs might just be punching bags or doormats. They may also be compensated for this as you can't teach an old dog new tricks and management knows it. They are not fun jobs but they do get filled (and filled often).

    There are as many different kinds of guitar tech gigs as there are guitarists. From those who are obsessed with every detail in set up, tone, battery voltage and piece of equipment, they often require a tech that is solely focused on the one person and his every need. There are also times when a tech is responsible for multiple musicians and must prioritize every change and move. Some techs find themselves with gigs where the appearance of the instrument, the gum and the drinks are more important than anything going on musically during the show. The trick is finding the right guy (or gal) for each job.

    There is also the "buddy" factor. There are people who have come up with a band who are more friends than techs and have the job because it's more important for the musician to have a pal than proper backup. Often management doesn't mind because the musician is babysat and the friend can be paid with low fees and free beer. They can learn to be good techs; they can also end up being managers or people to avoid when getting off the bus in the morning.

    One thing to consider is a dislike of change by musicians. You might think that if someone has had a job for twenty-three years, they are really good at what they do. It might just be that the musician doesn't want to go through training someone new to be his bitch.

    One huge factor is money; who can they afford or are they willing to pay for? Everyone wants that guy who made those great sounds on that album in the 70's but will they pay the price? Often the band loses their budget as time goes by and has to settle for someone who costs less. It works both ways; a tech might not to take a pay cut to work with someone unless he has to.

    Then there are the extended tenure techs. Some techs have been with their artists so long they have more power than the tour or production manager. Impossible you say? They have the ear of the artist and can make things show up and go away with equal power. They can affect schedules, travel arrangements, and staffing decisions. They make friends and make enemies. They are all set as long as the musician keep working. They can be really good at what they do but might not make the cut because of history and the single minded-ness they displayed.

    I've heard other members of the road crew (sound, lights, production) argue that backline isn't part of the crew; they are just a sub-division of the band. I think I've touched upon this in previous essays, so I won't delve into it here. For me it's a tricky blend of single focus on your job and an acceptance of the big picture of all the elements that it takes to put on a good show. How does the backline tech fit into the crew? Is he a team player or a primadonna? Does he create more problems for production than solve them? Do his "special needs" create more work for the production manager or other crewmembers?

    With some backline techs, their fees can put constraints on the budget for other crew people. You might not get hired if your price is too high (that might not be a bad thing... )

    It's so subtle sometimes... do you get the big picture without overstepping your job description? Do you keep focus on your own job without spending energy on everyone else's?

    Crew chemistry is a big deal because it is so rarely complete. You work and live together, often without enough space to turn around or put your shoes on. Someone you love with all your heart can get on your nerves in an environment like that. Is the crew having fun while they are doing their job and after? Are you part of that fun or destroying it?

    People change on the road over time as well. They can stay too long and just be miserable. Someone who was a great, fun hard working friend can become a soul sucking vampire who you dream of leaving at a truck stop.

    I was going to write a paragraph or two on relationships with management. These can be important but I don't think this is the time to discuss it. Besides, they were not going to vote anyway

    It's taken me nearly 2000 words to get to the point of this little exercise... this is not unusual in my writing world. Good people know what they are capable of and do it. They either find a niche or continue to adapt to meet their clients needs. As they get older, they become less flexible (as do their bodies) and are better fitting their known qualities into the appropriate jobs. One man guys, multi-taskers, floaters, vibe guys, gear heads... they all have a place. For good production and tour managers it is the art of putting their assessment of the tech with the right musician. Sometimes it even works.

    There are a number of great techs that I have learned from and continue to learn from. They seem more human and less untouchable each time I see them. They bring decades of experience with them each day into every building, the ability to create a consistent environment and the skills to solve nearly every problem. They have made it possible for generations of performers to play for millions of people and make it look flawless. I wish there was an award for these guys as I could give many of them away. But for now, just know that there is someone out of sight who has made it his career to not be seen. That during a show is a sign of success. That and no one throwing anything at them or yelling.

Strung Out

Fri, 21 Jan 2005 01:05:46 GMT

...added story
The story a few days ago about the airlines demanding a list of friends visited reminded me of a story I wrote in 2002 about pre-TSA security and my feelings on the inconsistancies we experience as business travellers sometimes. The link to the story is here.