Ah, the hunt for a new musician to play in your band. It’s like mixing a job interview with a personals ad. Not only are you looking for someone who can play the song, has “pro gear and a pro attitude”, doesn’t have any substance abuse problems (short of drinking way too much on road trips), can afford rent, and has a car to get them to and from practice/gigs, but you’re looking for someone you can see yourself hanging out with on a regular basis. After all, we’re certainly not in this for the money (see the “isn’t psychotic” part). A tall order, for sure.
So, imagine, if you will, what you expose yourself to when you put your e-mail address and phone number on little tear-off strips of paper in music stores, and “specific and concise” ads online and on newsprint. Before anything else happens, you get invited to invest in new businesses, tour Europe, help someone’s uncle in Nigeria, enhance your, um, manhood, and take part in exciting and invigorating new opportunities to form grassroots campaigns promoting grassroots campaigns in the areas where grassroots campaigns occur. Just the thing my wallet and manhood needs! However, no one prepares you for the cold, hard fact that no one is going to actually respond to the substance of your ad for, oh, about a month.
Then the phone starts ringing.
I had a very interesting conversation, between acts three and four of my stepdaughter’s school play, with a man who sounded old enough to be my father. Acid jazz and Stanley Jordan interest me, too, but I am not sure if he bothered to read the ad. He obviously bothered to go look us up on MySpace, since I never heard from him again. Buddy, if you’re reading this, I hope you find your way back in the door, since your resume sounded interesting as hell. At least you were normal. The guy I talked to about changing oil in a Winnebago in between speeding tickets and entertaining childhood antidotes of shooting at law enforcement was a little more bizarre. Then there are the guys who call close to midnight on a Thursday, or the ones who don’t understand e-mail attachments. Rounding all that off, there is Mister Aren’t-I-So-Enthusiastic, who will be no-showing his audition and never answering phone, e-mail, or Facebook messages ever again. Meanwhile, did you know we have an album out? Go buy a copy and catch us live in June…or July…or August…or whenever the hell we find a bassist. AHHHHH!!!!
Having said all that, we have had a handful of talented individuals show up for an audition, and have a few more lined up (maybe they’ll even show up). We feel like we’re getting closer, but the stories of learning the material that comes from every potential bassist is a reminder of just how high Ron set the bar before moving to Texas. If you’re reading this, I hope you walk into an audition and rip some faces off, since I guarantee you that you’ve scared some potential auditionees off. Until then, Brian Dobbs from Iris Divine will be helping us out with some shows, most notably this Friday, May 14th at Fat Tuesday’s in Fairfax, Virgina. Come on out and buy me a beer, and I’ll entertain you with stories of 7-string Conklins, Google Docs, and Volkswagen accessory belts.