good advice
Walter's got a pretty full plate gig-wise, and that's why when Jorge asked him to do some studio work for his band Say Marcie, he was reluctant. Walter, however, is a nice guy though, so he did it anyway.The problem became that he was getting busier and busier and Say Marcie was taking up more and more of his time. This problem was compounded by the nature of Say Marcis's music, which was mediocre at best.
It was due to all of this that Walter gave Jorge my number and told him to call me instead. Walter's about 300x the drummer I am, but Jorge called me anyway because he's desperate for some sort of a drummer.
I picked up a copy of their cd from Jorge and listened to it the other night. The music is okay for the most part, but the vocals are pretty terrible. From what everyone says, the band only exists because Jorge wants desperately to be fucking the girl lead singer, so he wrote a bunch of tunes for her to sing. The lyrics are high-school love note quality.
Anyway, my first instinct was not to do it, because I don't want to be known for playing with shitty bands. I decided to talk it over with Madison, who is quite a badass drummer and gigs constantly. I knew Walter wanted me to do it because he wanted Jorge off his back, so his opinion was biased.
I told Madison about it, and he advised me to do it.
"Look man," he said "Your stated goal is to be an increasingly-working drummer, and someone called you for a drum gig. Where's the problem"
"Well, the music sucks"
"So? When I moved to town I didn't say no to anyone ever. It's only recently that I have enough gigs that I can turn some down. I used to introduce myself as Contestant Number Four on those gigs because I didn't want my name attached to them, but I got work and I got better"
The man had a point.
"Besides," he added, "What're you gonna do, wait for Sting to call?"
I thought about all of this while doing a guitar gig with him this weekend. He was on drums, right behind me. I heard some pretty interesting shit coming out of him, and I turned around to watch what he was doing, and the motherfucker was doing it all with one hand.
"Bastard!" I shouted at him.
He grinned at me and kept playing.
He's a smart and talented fellow, that guy. I'm lucky to know him.
Later on, some drunken woman stepped all over my cables and shit and unplugged them all, and then sucked on my forehead by way of apology. Who sucks on a forehead?
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