Music Before the Money

Most artists want a piece of work that defines their creative existence. For Tolstoy it was War and Peace, for Orson Wells it was Citizen Kane and for John Steinbeck it was Of Mice and Men. Sometimes, in the case of great painters and poets, these honors are bestowed posthumously - and to work that they might have scoffed at had they been alive when the label was given.

Ever since my grandfather told me stories of the First World War - and how he was shot in both legs and breathed in lethal mustard gas - I was always intrigued by the conflict. As I researched my novel, The Salient: A Novel of the Great War, I found these facts about the Great War:

1) One of three (3) defining elements of the second millennium after King John of England signing the Magna Carta and the Gutenburg printing press.

2) For the first time the Canadian army fought under its own command.

3) Every breakout on the Western Front during the whole conflict was spear-headed by Canadian units.

4) 60,000+ Canadians died during the war, the highest per capita loss by any country.

My research stopped in its tracks at the “Second Battle of Ypres” in Flanders, Belgium, the first battle involving the 1st Canadian Division. Called the “Thermopylae of Canada,” less than 9,000 green Canadian volunteers held 100,000 German troops for three days, enduring the first gas attack in history, while a unbelieving British command tried to figure out what was happening.

Not including maps the novel came out to 876 pages! My agent at the time tried to make me carve it down, as did a publisher who was interested. But as hard as I tried I just couldn’t think of anything I could cut that would not affect the story - or stories. The assembling, training and battle order of the The First Canadian Division was so fantastic that I didn’t want to leave anything out.

As of this moment The Salient: A Novel of the Great War still remains unpublished but, like the song says, “I did it my way.”

I once was invited to play at a folk club where the guy before me took out a beautiful Martin D-25 and played Freight Train and a host of ragtime classics with great dexterity. Afterward he took out a powder-blue cloth and gingerly wiped the strings and neck and placed the instrument back in its red-velvet-lined case.

The person sitting next to me quipped, “And he’s not even a professional.” This was a dig at me because I was the guest of honor. It turns out the dude was a local doctor and that seemed right on. Only someone with his money could afford such a guitar as a gigging instrument. Most guys I knew used Takamine’s and Yamaha’s. I had a Yamaki.
So, I got up and played Spanish Train by Chris de Burgh. I wasn’t going to be upstaged by an amateur - even a doctor one. And if anyone has ever heard the song it has more lyrics than Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, which I also did.

So what is a professional? Here is answers.com’s definition:

1. Of, relating to, engaged in, or suitable for a profession: lawyers, doctors, and other professional people.
2. Conforming to the standards of a profession: professional behavior.
3. Engaging in a given activity as a source of livelihood or as a career: a professional writer.
4. Performed by persons receiving pay: professional football.
5. Having or showing great skill; expert: a professional repair job.

Well, except for No. 5 the definition pretty well sums up what I did for 25 years in the music business. The fifth protocol is definitely up to the receivers of my profession because the doctor with the Martin had that.

Willie Nelson once saids that “being a success in the music business is being able to put food on the table and have enough money to get to the next gig.” In that respect I can say I did okay. I never got evicted or had my truck repossessed and I even had enough money - or borrowing power - to record a time or three.

In all the time that I ‘ve been alive I’ve heard some great players and singers. Many of these performers were in clubs and some I found in front rooms and garages. It reminds me of a Lovin’ Spoonful song called Nashville Cats:

Well, there’s thirteen hundred and fifty two guitar pickers in Nashville,
And they can pick more notes than the number of ants
On a Tennessee anthill.
Yeah, there’s thirteen hundred and fifty two guitar cases in Nashville,
And any one that unpacks his guitar could play twice as better than I will.

That about sums it up. On any given day I played knew that there would be someone in the crowd who could either sing or play better than me - or both. The only difference was that I was up there and he/she was down there.

In my humble opinion the only difference between a professional and an amateur is that the former actually gets up and does it night after night in the good venues and dives, and in good or bad weather. The houses are sometimes packed and sometimes empty. There are nights they love you and others where you can cut the tension with baseball bat. And there are the times when gigs fall through just when your payments are due and you have to cancel a well-deserved holiday.

This is what being a professional is all about. And for the sliver-thin few who grab the brass ring and get a recording deal, only a slim fraction of these move on past the first one. So I was very fortunate to have made a good living for 25 years playing music.