I put my keyboards up for sale a short time ago and truth be told it was harder to do than I thought it would be.
My gigging days are, for now, over.
30+ years of playing has left me gasping at the changes in the entire music scene in general.
[a post all by itself]
Don’t get me wrong, I still love my piano, my Taylor acoustic, my two didgeridoos and will continue playing them
just not in the capacity I once did.
Yes, I will be playing piano at the house on Christmas Eve.
While a part of me is sad looking at the possible end of my performing career another part of me is
thrilled to be home on New Year’s Eve.
I’ve toyed with the idea of getting a group together should I reach the ripe age of 70.
The name of said group would be ‘Comb-Over 7000’. (an idea from a close friend)
We could be sponsored by Geritol, Depends undergarments and Poligrip (a marketing frenzy would ensue, no doubt)
People in wheelchairs would get in for free.
With a cane, half price admission.
Hell, maybe we could offer free blood pressure checks at every show.
The possibilities are truly endless.
And the t-shirts could change the world!
I found this little tome I wrote from many years ago and decided to share it again.
Life is cyclical from time to time as is writing.
The merry-go-round stopped here today.
Enjoy my ‘old’ list . . .
Feel free to add to it . . .
You might be too old to gig if:
Ø Before each gig, you find you’re warming up more parts of your body
Ø It becomes more important to find a place onstage for your boxfan, than your amp.
Ø During the second set, you scream for the drummer to please stop hitting those annoying cymbals
Ø You refuse to play out of tune
Ø Your gig clothes make you look like George Burns out for a round a golf
Ø Your fans have left by 10:30
Ø All you want from groupies is a foot massage.
Ø You love shopping the dollar store because you can sing along to most of your playlist.
Ø You hire band members for their values instead of their talent.
Ø Instead of a fifth piece, your band wants to spring for a roadie with the extra money.
Ø You’ve lost the directions to the gig
Ø Prepping for the gig involves plucking hair from your chin or nose
Ø Most of the hair you’ve plucked from your chin or nose are gray
Ø You need your glasses to see your amp settings
Ø You need help on and off the stage
Ø You’ve thrown out your back jumping off the stage because no one would help
Ø You’re thrilled to have new year’s off
Ø The waitress is your daughter
Ø You stop the set because your bottle of ibuprofen fell behind the speakers
Ø Most of your crowd just sways in their seats
Ø You find drink tokens from last month’s gig in your guitar case
Ø You refuse to play without earplugs
Ø You ask the club owner if you can start at 8:30 instead of 9:30
Ø You want an opening act
Ø You check the TV schedule before booking a gig
Ø High notes make you cough
Ø Your gig stool has a back
Ø You’re related to at least one other member of the band
Ø You need a nap
Ø You eat before the gig, you get heartburn then need the nap.
Ø You don’t let anyone “sit in”
Ø After the third set, you bug the club owner to let you quit early
Ø On the breaks, you now go to your van to lay down
Ø You prefer a music stand with a light
Ø You say you double on bass
Ø When shopping, you consider the instrument’s weight as well as tone.
Ø When in the music store, the hip sales people ignore you even though you have cash.
Ø You don’t recover until Tuesday afternoon
Ø You can’t operate without a setlist
Ø You know all the words to “Hotel California”