Today, for the first time in my life, I had to fire someone. I can't go into the details of who or why, but suffice it to say, the reason was stupid. On the one hand, if it were actually my decision and not a serious matter of corporate policy, I would have let things slide. On the other hand, a lot of people's time was wasted because what happened was entirely preventable, so the irresponsibility of the whole thing makes it hard for me to feel sorry. What angers me the most is that I thought I was done with interviews for a while (I hate interviews with a mad, irrational passion).
The band is supposed to be trying out a drummer and guitarist tomorrow, so we'll see how that goes. A couple weeks ago, we were supposed to try out a different drummer/guitar combo, but that fell through before we even had a chance to get starting. I hate musicians.
In happier news, I am planning a trip to Seattle over Memorial Day weekend (leaving either Friday or Saturday before, and coming back the Wednesday after) to see two of my favorite recent bands, Lacuna Coil and The Gathering. If you know me, and are interested in taking the trip, let me know soon, as time is running short. Other than the show, I would like to take a tour of the wineries in the area, but I don't have any other specific plans.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Illness: Nature's way of telling you to get some damn sleep
Saturday night, a few of us were supposed to see Stephen Lynch at the Marquee. Unfortunately, it got postponed due to illness. Which is amazingly coincidental, because I wasn't feeling all that great that night either. Sunday wasn't any better. Monday was worse. And I hate wasting a sick day on actually being sick.
There was an interesting band development Saturday night. On the good side, we apparently have a drummer. On the bad side, we no longer have a singer. Bear with me here, and don't make any judgments until you've read the whole thing:
Mike has decided to give up lead singing and start playing the drums. He and Aaron decided that, since he does in fact have a pretty damn good sense of timing and rhythm, it would be better for the band if he switched sides. My initial thought was "I thought I was the designated abuser of mind-altering substances in this band", followed quickly with "Maybe these two need to start abusing some mind-altering substances." But I soon saw the rationale behind this, without the help of mind-altering substances: Not only do I not have to deal with a drummer, but, um, I, uh, don't have to ... deal with a drummer. At least, not of the stereotypical, flaky, unemployed, debt-ridden variety.
Walking to Mike's apartment from the Marquee gave me some time to reflect on this proposition, especially as we passed the Tempe Music Festival, and I was able to listen to a good deal of drumming from other bands, and noticing the almost child-like simplicity of it. And I don't mean simple in a "stripped-down, raw, intentionally uncomplicated" sort of way, I mean simple in the sense that the drummers seemed incapable of playing more than one beat between them all, and certainly were at a total loss to put any kind of passion or emotion into it.
The only thing I'm curious about, and what makes me wonder if Mike's really thought this all the way through, is that the drummer is normally at the back of the stage, where he doesn't get quite as much attention as the rest of the band. Maybe he thinks we'll let him set up his kit in front of the singer.
There was an interesting band development Saturday night. On the good side, we apparently have a drummer. On the bad side, we no longer have a singer. Bear with me here, and don't make any judgments until you've read the whole thing:
Mike has decided to give up lead singing and start playing the drums. He and Aaron decided that, since he does in fact have a pretty damn good sense of timing and rhythm, it would be better for the band if he switched sides. My initial thought was "I thought I was the designated abuser of mind-altering substances in this band", followed quickly with "Maybe these two need to start abusing some mind-altering substances." But I soon saw the rationale behind this, without the help of mind-altering substances: Not only do I not have to deal with a drummer, but, um, I, uh, don't have to ... deal with a drummer. At least, not of the stereotypical, flaky, unemployed, debt-ridden variety.
Walking to Mike's apartment from the Marquee gave me some time to reflect on this proposition, especially as we passed the Tempe Music Festival, and I was able to listen to a good deal of drumming from other bands, and noticing the almost child-like simplicity of it. And I don't mean simple in a "stripped-down, raw, intentionally uncomplicated" sort of way, I mean simple in the sense that the drummers seemed incapable of playing more than one beat between them all, and certainly were at a total loss to put any kind of passion or emotion into it.
The only thing I'm curious about, and what makes me wonder if Mike's really thought this all the way through, is that the drummer is normally at the back of the stage, where he doesn't get quite as much attention as the rest of the band. Maybe he thinks we'll let him set up his kit in front of the singer.
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