Monday, August 17, 2009
The Beatles Party
A few weeks ago, my wife and I were invited to a party at the home of a couple who had been in the audience for two or three of my band’s gigs. I had never met the hosts and was about to decline the invitation (which came, not from the homeowners themselves, but second-hand through mutual friends) until I learned that the party would have a "Beatles" theme. Guests were being asked to bring along their Beatles memorabilia and musicians were encouraged to bring their acoustic instruments for a Beatles sing-along. They had even invented a Beatles trivia game for the occasion. Except for the fact that ten minutes after I arrived I managed to spill half a bottle of beer on the carpet that belonged to two extremely nice (and forgiving) people, we had a great time. As a Paul McCartney concert DVD played on the television, one woman was getting more and more excited about her plans to see the former Beatle on the following Tuesday at Citi Field in Queens — the new home of the New York Mets. “Wish I could go,” I must have said, because the woman’s husband told me that good seats were available via on-line distributors for $275.
For a few minutes, I almost forgot that I had just lost my job of 19 years at Cornell University, and that my wife and I were now wondering what was going to happen to us when the savings ran out. Then, reality set in and I knew that, even though this might be my last opportunity to see the great one in concert, it wasn’t going to happen for me this time. When we got home from the party, I fired up the computer out of curiosity, and sure enough, I located great seats available on the field, not far from the stage. With the added fee for the ticket vendor, the cost was $290 each. My wife came into the room and stood behind me. “Do it,” she said, like the little devil who sometimes sits on my shoulder and forces me to do things I know I’ll later regret. “This is one in a lifetime,” she said. “You deserve it.”
A few clicks later, I printed out my ticket to see Paul McCartney.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
TV Blues
“We’re going to be on TV!”
I phoned my wife at her office as soon as I listened to the message on our answering machine. A representative of one of our hometown television stations had called to ask if my band would be interested in performing on air during an upcoming evening news program. Each weekday the 5 p.m. broadcast closed with an entertainment segment featuring local talent appearing live from the Oakdale Shopping Mall. Recent performers had included a yoga instructor, an acoustic guitar duo, a piano player, a lounge-style singer, and a belly dancer.
Our debut was scheduled for the following week. I sent emails or made phone calls to everyone I thought might be interested. If they lived outside of our viewing area, I explained, they could see us online at the station’s Web site.
When we arrived at the designated spot only 90 minutes before our air time, we sensed trouble right away. No one from the station was there to greet us or to let us know exactly where to set up. A half hour later the video crew swooped in on us with cameras, microphones and an audio mixing board. Once equipment was assembled and tested, our sound man, Kevin, went over instructions with the station’s audio engineer. They agreed that Kevin would listen to the broadcast feed on headsets, and that he would operate the audio board faders. We were unsettled at being rushed to prepare, but we were confident that our audio mix was in good hands.
I was nervous when we got the cue to start playing, but I felt that we did okay. Certainly we had no major blunders. We covered the Beatles song, “I’ll Be Back.” The three-part harmony sounded good in our fold-back monitors, and our instruments were tight. When we finished the live portion of the show, we recorded a second song that the producers planned to air at a later date.
When I got home that night, I played our performance back on our DVR. I was thrilled with the way we looked on camera. However, I did notice some problems with the vocal mix. My voice was dominant, while Phil, who was singing the lead part, was way lower in volume. Bob’s harmony part was inaudible – we would not have known that he was singing at all except that his lips were moving.
Six days later, at our regular Tuesday night rehearsal, Bob dropped the bomb. He teaches music at a community college, and he had an opportunity to speak with students as well as professional musicians. The conclusion was unanimous: we were a bust. Some of the comments he received were difficult to listen to, and were directed toward Phil and I. Phil’s vocals were flat, I was often sharp, and when the two errors happened simultaneously, we sounded particularly "sour". Bob was spared the harsh criticism because, as he explained, his vocal was missing from the mix. (Later, we concluded that Kevin’s headset had been plugged into the audio feed that was going to the room, and not the critical mix that was going out over the air, so he was unaware of the problem.)
The next day, I turned to the 5 o’clock news. Instead, I saw Judge Judy as she humiliated some poor schmucks who had been dumb enough to air their petty dispute on national television. A story in the morning newspaper explained. The station’s news show had been canceled, and the news team, including the anchor whose face and voice had been seen and heard in local homes for as long as I can remember, had been let go.
I couldn’t help but feel that we were somehow responsible for the shut down. Were we becoming a curse to anyone who came into contact with us? We were all discouraged. I was close to giving up, and I sensed that Bob felt the same. But we pushed on.
We had made the right decision. Our television fiasco became a turning point for us. From here, things were about to improve.
I phoned my wife at her office as soon as I listened to the message on our answering machine. A representative of one of our hometown television stations had called to ask if my band would be interested in performing on air during an upcoming evening news program. Each weekday the 5 p.m. broadcast closed with an entertainment segment featuring local talent appearing live from the Oakdale Shopping Mall. Recent performers had included a yoga instructor, an acoustic guitar duo, a piano player, a lounge-style singer, and a belly dancer.
Our debut was scheduled for the following week. I sent emails or made phone calls to everyone I thought might be interested. If they lived outside of our viewing area, I explained, they could see us online at the station’s Web site.
When we arrived at the designated spot only 90 minutes before our air time, we sensed trouble right away. No one from the station was there to greet us or to let us know exactly where to set up. A half hour later the video crew swooped in on us with cameras, microphones and an audio mixing board. Once equipment was assembled and tested, our sound man, Kevin, went over instructions with the station’s audio engineer. They agreed that Kevin would listen to the broadcast feed on headsets, and that he would operate the audio board faders. We were unsettled at being rushed to prepare, but we were confident that our audio mix was in good hands.
I was nervous when we got the cue to start playing, but I felt that we did okay. Certainly we had no major blunders. We covered the Beatles song, “I’ll Be Back.” The three-part harmony sounded good in our fold-back monitors, and our instruments were tight. When we finished the live portion of the show, we recorded a second song that the producers planned to air at a later date.
When I got home that night, I played our performance back on our DVR. I was thrilled with the way we looked on camera. However, I did notice some problems with the vocal mix. My voice was dominant, while Phil, who was singing the lead part, was way lower in volume. Bob’s harmony part was inaudible – we would not have known that he was singing at all except that his lips were moving.
Six days later, at our regular Tuesday night rehearsal, Bob dropped the bomb. He teaches music at a community college, and he had an opportunity to speak with students as well as professional musicians. The conclusion was unanimous: we were a bust. Some of the comments he received were difficult to listen to, and were directed toward Phil and I. Phil’s vocals were flat, I was often sharp, and when the two errors happened simultaneously, we sounded particularly "sour". Bob was spared the harsh criticism because, as he explained, his vocal was missing from the mix. (Later, we concluded that Kevin’s headset had been plugged into the audio feed that was going to the room, and not the critical mix that was going out over the air, so he was unaware of the problem.)
The next day, I turned to the 5 o’clock news. Instead, I saw Judge Judy as she humiliated some poor schmucks who had been dumb enough to air their petty dispute on national television. A story in the morning newspaper explained. The station’s news show had been canceled, and the news team, including the anchor whose face and voice had been seen and heard in local homes for as long as I can remember, had been let go.
I couldn’t help but feel that we were somehow responsible for the shut down. Were we becoming a curse to anyone who came into contact with us? We were all discouraged. I was close to giving up, and I sensed that Bob felt the same. But we pushed on.
We had made the right decision. Our television fiasco became a turning point for us. From here, things were about to improve.
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