When I was in my early twenties playin’ in a low rent Rock & Roll bar band, I joined the musicians union. My dope addled thought process had surmised that union musicians make more money than non union musicians, and since a ham sandwich would have been more than I was making playing music as a non union musician, I figured that union card would be the keys to the promised land. I joined the union, and waited for the calls to come in. They didn’t.
And six months later when my union membership expired all I had to show for it was a really cool bumper sticker on the back bumper of my five hundred dollar Datsun that said “live music is best”.
And that bumper sticker stayed on the back bumper of that Datsun until long after that Datsun had expired, because when you’ve discovered a fundamental truth of life you should share it with as much of the world as can be encompassed by a $500.00 car driven by a full time musician playing for five dollars a night and beer.
Live music is best
And yes it is, but it’s getting harder to find. It used to be that anybody with a guitar could find a venue that would let you play and maybe even pay you decent for the effort, and I ain’t sure why that changed, but I suppose there are some obvious reasons. There’s this thing called a computer and another one called a television, and there’s social media and you tube and cell phones, and the growth of social isolation, and folks can see the best music with a few keystrokes or they can zombie out in front of the tube and be entertained more in four hours than our parents would have been in a year.
And those music venues are dying out.
I’ve seen James king play an hour and a half concert for 14 people, singing so good that my heart crawled all the way up into my throat and caused my eyes to water.
I’ve seen the great guitarist Jim Hurst play for such a small crowd that I sat on the front row and could have hooked my nose over his strings to feel the music as it echoed off the empty walls.
And I saw Tommy Emmanuel, whose picking made the trees quiver and the stars dance in the sky playing for a crowd the size of a mans hand. That’s a shameful thing.
Well, I say all that to say this.
There’s a great place in our area called the Acoustic den. They have live music almost every night of the week. They support the musicians, and bring life to the dullness of the senses, and you don’t have to be surrounded by drunks while you listen, and the bathrooms are clean, and the sound will warm the cockles of your heart, and places like this need our support. Those places that are bucking the electronic tide that separates people and deadens the soul.
And maybe there’s an acoustic den, or a freight and salvage in your neighborhood, some fearless proprietor trying to eke out a modest living bringing a little life to the world and a little sustenance to the musicians within it.
They need your support. Go watch the music. Drink the cappuccino, buy a muffin. Cheer and maybe stomp your feet.
Live music is best.
