Is Music Bottled Water?

A young woman in her twenties helped me import my contacts from an old phone into a new phone. This process is quite tedious when going between devices built by competing manufactures (like Apple to Droid) - and it has nothing to do with the fact that I have 2,197 contacts. 

Mine was a particularly tough case - none of the techs had seen anything like it before. We worked on this issue for six hours over 2 days (they sent me home with Google homework) until someone back at the store had a clever idea, and it worked.

With the transfer of contacts finally complete I relaxed and began to ask about all the neat features on my shiny new and improved. "How can I import all of the music I bought on my old phone into this bad boy?" I asked.

She looks a bit evasive and says, "Well we can't do that here… There are ways …"

"Ya mean I have to go online and find the hack for it."

"Right. These companies are like fren-emies, and they don't make sharing easy."

"So …"

"So you can go like this … and enter a search for your song and buy it here. But personally, I don't like to pay for anything, so I just type 'free mp3s' into the search field and you can get all kinds of music for free!"

I know that this attitude has been around at least since Napster. But I still wonder where it comes from - what's the precedent? When I was a kid the only people who got and expected things for free were kids, beggars, and thieves (I'm not counting birthdays!). I am nearly certain that most adults who expect music to be free do not see themselves as kids, beggars or thieves. So where does the idea that something worked so hard on should be free come from, is there an historic precedent? Music clearly has a very high value to society - people crave it, everywhere, all the time!

I imagine a Native American from the distant past walking into a store and seeing the bottled water on a shelf. Why not just take some? Water is the gift of Earth to all who walk upon it! I can understand that if you are brought up to expect a thing to be free then the idea of paying for it would seem absurd. Yet so much work is put into making and producing and distributing music. Is there anything else in the marketplace that is expected to be free after it has been crafted? 

Please help me to understand this mind set - where does it come from? 

In the meantime, enjoy some of my homemade music here!

Toilet Paper Is Over The Top!

Over the top. That's how it's gotta hang! Allow me to wipe away the confusion: Toilet paper rolls are best installed with the paper dispensing over the top of the roll toward the user, not with the paper falling back away from the user and dispensing from underneath the roll. Many people have an opinion on this sensitive (t)issue. Some people just don't give a crap. I do just about everyday and when I reach for a slice I want to feel clean safe and comfortable. It comes down to these three primary issues: hygiene, safety, and ergonomics.

www.cdbaby.com/all/bmakinmusic

1) Hygiene - Having the paper draped over the top of the roll eliminates the need to insert one's hand (fingers and knuckles) into the TP roll cavity where boogers poop and pee from other users may be hangin' out. When the TP is fed under the roll, so as to dispense from within the cavity, one's hand must risk brushing the inside of this cavity and most likely picking up unwanted travelers . When dispensed like this (over the back of the roll) it may also drop down beneath the cavity and hang flush with the wall. This leads to the issue of safety (in addition to remaining a hygiene threat due to the fact that the wall is another landing zone for boogers poop and pee (ladies may ask, Pee? yes, remember, guys splatter when peeing from a standing position - those drops can go anywhere!) because one's knuckles are sure to brush against the wall while severing the wiping strip from the roll.

2) Safety - I have gotten slivers in my knuckles from reaching (albeit too quickly) for the TP as it lay flush against a rough wooden wall - a result of it being fed, the wrong way, over the back of the roll. I have also received cuts and scrapes from sharp bolts and rusty washers poking out of the toilet roll cavity. (Yes, as a musician I do find myself visiting unusual and often neglected bathroom locations. But anyone who lives in the South or who goes camping will encounter the same conditions.) Remember - any flesh wound received while reaching for TP is a sure way to mainline someone else's boogers poop and pee (see #1).

3) Ergonomics - TP draped over the top of the roll, towards the user, is always closer to the user. TP fed back and away from the user is always further from the user and thus more of an inconvenience. One could argue that having to reach further for toilet paper burns more calories but I find that the act of defecating burns enough calories as it is. Pooping always feels like losing weight too, doesn't it?

And there you have it. I hope that helps when it comes to hangin' your roll: over the top is the way go!

Drummer Ginger Baker (Cream) Stars in Documentary on His Life and Times in The Limelight

Drummer +Ginger Baker swears up a storm recounting his junkie's journey on the drums. Beware of Mr Baker is a must see documentary by +Jay Bulger for all music history buffs.

I met Ginger while playing drums at the old Cricket On The Hill in Denver sometime in the mid to late 1990s. Ginger came in the bar with Rupp's Drums owner +Bob Rupp. We drank whiskey, played drums and threw steak knives at the dart board (thanks +Denver Joe!). Here's a photo of me playing congas with singer/songwriter +Clay Cabe at The Cricket circa 2002:

Blow the drummer up?

- I wrote this before rushing out the door last Thursday, May 8, 2008:

My mother thinks I may be blown up today while playing a drum roll at an Israel 60 Years of Statehood flag raising ceremony this afternoon. "Jews are hated around the world! I'd rather die in my own home of (bronchial conditions) than get blown up!" Well, if I am blown-up, I have enjoyed my short time here on the planet, and my even shorter time here in Blog Land, interacting, free of religious zealot-ism, with all of you virtual friends!

Keep making music, and if you are in the music business, don't give it away for free!

Hug and kiss your loved ones every day - Dakota, I love you!

See you on the other side!

Ben

Post Script,May 9th, 2008
No one was hurt, or blown-up, at the ceremony. Only the wind blew.

Go Speed Racer, Go!

The chipmunk was speeding across three lanes of impatient traffic.
It stopped, twisted, and darted forward again as my car closed the distance in the third lane. Come on, come on - go little guy! I really hoped it would make it to the safety of the sidewalk on the other side of the road.

I imagined myself sprinting across a massive highway, the width of Hoover Dam, while gargantuan machines the size of cruise ships came bearing down upon me. I imagined myself being very freaked out.

I wish that darting animals would just commit to the run, and go for it, because most of us behind the wheel are really pulling for them, and we're willing to make minor adjustments in speed to avoid hitting them, and it's easier to make minor adjustments in speed based upon straight trajectories then it is upon the erratic zigzagging-start-and-stops of those cute, but panicked, little creatures.

Responsible drivers basically have their hands tied: swerving is out of the question when surrounded by other cars on all sides; slamming on the brakes is a guaranteed three-car pile-up; and slowing to a complete stop for a tiny animal to make up its even tinier mind is not only likely to confuse the little bugger even more than it already is, it's likely to draw exasperated looks of "Are you freakin' kidding me?" from motorists impatient to get home after a day of sucking up to clients and a boss they despise.

Perhaps all of us face gargantuan monsters of some kind or another everyday. I hope that we all make it to the other side safely, as, on this fine day, my little friend was able to do.

Old Salsa masters remind all performers to RELAX and LISTEN

A friend sent me a link to video footage from Candido’s 82nd birthday party at Birdland (2003).

Watching and listening to these old masters of Son - Cuban music, or Salsa - got me to thinking (which is rare on a Sunday!):

... the sense of family on stage and with the audience, creates such a relaxed performance - i really miss that element in much of today’s music. There is so much preoccupation with self gratification, and everyone is in a hurry to prove themselves, there is a tension and uptightness with many performers, generally those that are less succesful - it comes from an insecurity... I miss playing with guys that "get it". Taking the time to tell a (musical) story takes skill and maturity on the player’s part and it flourishes with a patient, and receptive audience..

Here is the link to the performance:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-_r1EvJ6q4&feature=email

Hillary Clinton: I know an old lady...

Hillary Clinton:

I know an old lady who swallowed a lie, I don't know why she swallowed a lie, I guess young American soldiers and Iraqi children will die!!

Obama Brings Music Back To School?

If a black president from Chicago can't get music back in the schools this country is really screwed!! Let's give him a shot at fixing Reagan's big mistake. No Child Without An Instrument!

Old Rivets Popping Out

I am now down to one rivet in my old Zildjian sizzle cymbal. There used to be 8 of them and over the last 20 years they have popped out one at a time. They were old rivets with a styalized flower pattern on the head. Does anyone know where I can get more of these?

Too Much Noise-Not Enough Room For Music

Musicians who perform most every night often find themselves seeking escape from noise throughout their day. I am one of those. I have become so sensitive to sound that I rarely listen to the radio, don't own an iPod, have a turntable stored in the garage, and, upon waking in the morning (yes, I wake in the morning! to make breakfast for my daughter and then walk her to kindergarten) I shy away from conversation - talking is too strenuous, and listening to spoken-word jumbles up the scarce peace of mind I am alloted to begin each day with. About the only music I listen to is on myspace profiles and when I must learn someone else's material for a gig. There is more than enough ambient sound in the world to fill my head and tax my nervous system. Police sirens serenade me to sleep at night and, cleverly enough, serve as my alarm clock in the morning. Trash trucks, and other deep-throated diesel-engined delivery vehicles, provide an out-of-tune low-brass section playing counterpoint to the constant whooshing-buzz of helicopters that sound like aboriginal bull-roars on meth-amphetamines. The idea of a pleasant sounding - maybe even soothing - cell phone ring being invented is doomed from the start: anything manufactured to interrupt your life at unpredictable intervals will inevitably become torturous.

Igor Stravinsky wrote, "Music is given to us with the sole purpose of establishing an order in things..."

I must disagree with Igor on that point (although he was right about Spring). Music can often scramble one's brain - particularly if you spend four hours performing in front of a well aimed guitar amplifier set to stun.

I tuned in the classical radio station the other morning, thinking that the music would take the edge off of the frantic dynamic of getting a child dressed, fed, ready, and on-time for school. It worked for three minutes, until the music stopped and the on-air fund-raising pitch began. I slammed the off-button before the guilt of not paying for music began to drag me down. ("Oh my God! I'm not supporting classical music!" Dial down to the jazz station, more on-air fund drives - switch off - "Oh my God, I'm not supporting jazz!" - Well, I used to, but when times get tough, the first thing to go is the jazz station membership, then the pedicures... )

I think I'd enjoy listening to music more if I just quit the busines

Has Anyone Found It Yet?

Well, have ya?

Thanks Captain!

Thanks to David Booker for inviting me into the KUVO studio last Sunday night as his special on-air guest during the avant-garde jazz show. I was caught off-guard by his enthusiastic praise of my percussion playing. He is quite fond of a duo CD we made together years ago (8 years?), sort of a jungle blues recording: traditional blues guitar and vocals with afro-latin percussion! Booker said he was quite sorry to have not paid me any royalties on it - he hasn't made any yet himself!! So we laughed and we cried, but most importantly we were there together again chatting most pleasantly in the studio after a rift had kept us apart for the last 3 years. I began playing with Booker in 1992 and spent a lot of time on the road, in nightclubs, and in the studios with him over the years. I learned many things about the blues and about the music biz from David. We had many ridiculously funny times together that are worthy of a short film, and I was fired from his band at least 3 times. The standing joke among all of his sidemen is that you are never really a member of his band until you've been fired 3 times! I remember one time when he gave me "your third pink slip!!" in between songs on stage in the middle of Wyoming. He hired me back the next afternoon in the van ride to Idaho... All who know him call him Captain. (To his face anyway!) Thanks Captain!!

Happy Birthday Dad!

It's my dad's 68th birthday today. Happy birthday dad and thanks for having cool jazz records in your collection while I grew up with you!! And thanks for taking us to the Rolling Stones concert in Dallas in 1980 - That really kicked ass!!!! The Charlie Daniels concert in Tulsa was a gas too... And thanks for forcing me up on stage when I was 12 years old in some obscure bar in New Mexico to play drums for a professional band for the first time in my life. Did I ever tell you I was scared shitless? I was. Thanks for not getting me drunk after that experience - life would've been very different ... Love ya dad!

My Friend Frank On Tour w/ John Scofield

Frank Vacin and I went to high school together and spent many hours listening to jazz records either in his dad's basement (his dad only liked old big band jazz) or in my dad's living room (my dad dug it all but was never home!). Later, when Frank moved in with me and my dad so he could practice all day, he and I joined our first big band (Sam Bivens) where we got our reading together. While practicing during the day, neighbors would leave notes on our door telling "the guy trying to play sax" to "give it up!" Frank was just working on harmonic growling, or shouting through the sax. Five or so years later when coming back to visit Denver from NY, where he had moved, (he had sold me his 1979 Chevy Impala station wagon for the price of a greyhound ticket to NY -about $91 back then- so he could get out of Denver), he sat in with a blues band I was gigin with. The leader laughed at his playing and said, "He might be able to play in another 10 years!!" Frank put up with a lot of negative crap from others over many years...

Well Frank, YOU DID IT!!! Congrats, and thanks for all those home made chorizo burritos at my dad's house!

Frank is currently on tour of the US with John Scofield through October. They will go to Europe in Nov for 28 shows adding bassist Steve Swallow to their already impressve line-up: the Grenadier brothers (Larry & Phil) and drummer Bill Stewart.

Check out Frank's website: http://www.frankvacin.com

Tan Biker Moms And Drunk Hippie Chicks: Tip The Band!

She's got the perfect suburban-biker-mom-tan and she's on the dance floor shakin' it like she did 30 years ago and actually showing the younger drunk hippie chicks a thing or two, if only 'cause they're so drunk that they are not actually dancing but flopping about as if their inner gyroscope's gone haywire. As we prepare to begin our 2nd set biker mom weaves her way to the front of the band. "Okay now, I don't want anything slow, and we can't have anything sad okay now! My week's been too hard and some these girls are havin' a tough time too and we gotta keep it up and you gotta make us happy okay! Keep it real up and peppy. Now you guys gotta play some songs by..." I got my start in this business playing with some ruthless motherfuckers who enjoyed telling people like this woman to "Shut the fuck up". I've worked for leaders who enjoyed shoving people off the stage and onto their asses on the peanut shell-covered floors of bars in Montana and South Dakota. I like to think that I have remained a bit of an old fashioned gentleman despite such an upbringing. I smiled as she went on, "I just spent $600 on a radiator for my 2-week old car and I'm sick of people telling me I spent too much money on it so don't tell me I've spent too much..." Now I'm getting pissed! My 17-year old car had just died. Dead and gone to the junk yard. I had no car, I was broke, late on rent, nothing in savings, needed groceries for my little girl back at home... Just another typical working musician. But I was sober and I was listening to this crap and in the sweetest golly-gosh kinda voice I could muster I just smiled into her eyes and interrupted, "Say! Do you think you could find us something to put our tip jar on? You see it's down there in front of my bass drum, yeah, that jar with a dollar in it, and i just don't think anybody here can see it - maybe that table over there or something would work great-thankyousomuch!" Putting both of her hands feebly to her jean pockets she began to mumble, "Well I just don't have any..." and she did a 180 to the bar for another drink.