No one said musicians aren't petty

Having blogged moments ago about the musicians' curse that is the mocking request for "Free Bird," I just thought of what will be, for me, the perfect response: To play Little Jimmy Dickens' 1965 smash hit "May the Bird of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose." It's a wonderful, strange song, eminently recognizable, and it will fit well in my oeuvre. How is it that I've never made a habit of playing at least one Little Jimmy Dickens song per appearance? Sorry, Jimmy.

Best of all, the tune will be, in its cheerfully hostile way, an enjoyable, passive-aggressive Fuck You to whoever yelled "'Free Bird.'" I know my bandmates will appreciate it, if no one else does -- and the best in-jokes for musicians on stage are the ones that only the musicians even notice.

And often the food is good

My friend Walter -- with whom I played in my first band, 20 years ago -- recently lamented that sometimes, playing music, he feels like so much furniture.

As a friend of mine advised me a long time ago: "Play pretty." That's what i wanna do these days. It seems the result of "playing pretty," however, is not only becoming a seamless part of the music, but also of becoming a seamless part of whatever is behind you--like a wall. You don't get noticed.

And that's been okay. I've adjusted accordingly and started enjoing being in the background. Like i said, I really hadn't thought all that much about it...until the other night...

I had finished a gig with a friend of mine (who actually is entertaining and interesting and stuff) and we were loading the gear out. As i was carrying my guitar case toward the door , this rather attractive and charmingly intoxicated chick put her arm out on the wall and cut me off. She looked at me as she swayed every so slightly and cooed:

"sooooo....i was wondering what musicians like to do after they finish playing at night..."

For me, part of being a working musician is accepting that I must on occasion blend into the walls. The consolation, in my recent experience at least, is that the more in the background I am, the better the gig pays. I've played a lot of weddings, for example, and weddings guests generally don't care who I am or how seriously I take the music. They just want to dance to "Mustang Sally" -- or, more likely, to talk while over yonder someone is singing "Mustang Sally." If they pay any attention to me, it often is in the form of a mocking request for "Free Bird," which is worse than no attention, period, but never mind.

Anyway, all this is fine, because wedding gigs are lucrative -- as opposed to club gigs, which generally don't pay well (though they pay much better in Madison than in music capitals like New York or Nashville). But club gigs have their own rewards: I generally am playing my own songs at them, and if people come, they are there -- hopefully -- to listen.

And perhaps, later, to flirt with me. I don't discourage this. It's good for my self-esteem.

The frequency

Sorry to be a laggard blogger! I am working on a story that has taken me far and wide. It will run in Isthmus soon.

Have in your thoughts Dawud Bracey, who struggled with addiction and was killed Saturday in a shootout with the police. I knew Dawud and liked him, and I was sad and surprised to see his picture on the front page of this morning's paper. It is a terrible waste. What makes someone shoot at cops?

Here's to clean living.

This just in

Like many, I watched Katie Couric's debut last week on the "CBS Evening News," and I enjoyed it. I even took a bold step: I programmed the TiVo to record the "Evening News" every night instead of ABC's "World News." The latter has long been my evening newscast of choice, but my enthusiasm for it waned after Peter Jennings died last year, and waned still more through the Elizabeth Vargas interregnum and into the era of Charlie Gibson.

Guess what: I switched back to ABC. The Couric show is too -- how you say? -- squishy. And so far, at least, it is too little about hard news, too much about Katie Couric.

What's more, I found myself missing my old friends, the ABC correspondents: Betsy Stark, Brian Ross, Dan Harris, Jeffrey Kofman -- and, especially, the marvelous White House correspondent Martha Raddatz, whom I would marry if she weren't married and I weren't gay.

But what can I say? A year and more after his passing, I miss Peter Jennings. Fortunately, he lives on, thanks to the magic of television. Here is a "Daily Show" segment that starred a wonderfully game Peter Jennings.

Good word

"(And as an editor, I don't have to actually report or write the story, only to be tormented by demanding editors. It's easier being the tormenter!)"

-- Richard L. Berke, assistant managing editor for news, the New York Times

Mi so la

Can someone please help me understand what it is that is so very satisfying about the Nairobi Trio?



I notice that a YouTube commenter asks a very similar question on that page: "Why is this SO funny?" There's something mysterious and ineffable going on here. Or perhaps I overstate the case. When is a guy in a gorilla mask just a guy in a gorilla mask? (And a trenchcoat.) (And a derby.)

Okay, just one more question: Why, at one point, does the baton seemingly transform itself into a banana?

Monsters

It pleases me that the Chicago Bears blanked the Green Bay Packers today, 26-0, in Green Bay. I'm a Bear fan from way back, and I intensely dislike the Packers. Why? Mostly it's that very unflattering color scheme of theirs. If today's outcome keeps even one person from wearing a Packers jersey to the opera here in Madison, we will all be better off.

So bear down, Chicago Bears. The Chicago Symphony Orchestra and maestro Georg Solti bore down. But did they wear Bears jerseys as they were in the process of bearing down?