Cool Animator Dudes v. Corporate Zombie Trolls

Part One

The Cool Animator Dudes with whom Zen Bank shares a building are just flaunting it now. Two more small episodes today were sobering reality checks to just how awful corporation jobs are.

Zen Bank had an all-employee staff meeting this morning, like we do every two months. Here's a run-down of one of these artifices of corporate importance:

7:30am - I walk in no earlier than I need to be and fill a plate with mini-muffins, cinirollettes--anything--and a styro cup with scorched-earth coffee. Why? Because the pain from the subsequent gutrot and lava-flayed mouth is a more welcome feeling than the upcoming forty-five minutes of pretending to like each other and pretending the banking world isn't being hit hard.

"Not this early in the morning!"

7:35am - Mini-muffins and cinirollettes decimated; flayed skin hanging from the roof of the mouth. Let's get this over with.

"Generic weather comment!"

7:36am - Birthdays! For the people who have been attending these meetings for decades, this event is exciting. Each employee whose birthday lands that month or the next gets to reach into a plastic pot full of ping pong balls. Everyone is granted a half-day of Paid Time Off for their birthday, but if they pull out a ping pong ball with the month or day of their birthday written on it, they get a full day of PTO. There's a wild card too: a orange ping pong ball for another chance at a full day!

"Competitive saying left over from my high school football days thirty-five years ago that will somehow inspire someone to pick the orange ball!"

The trolls and zombies love this part of the meeting because it's the only one left up to chance. The rest is dictated by the dooming reality of statistics, trends, and some other third thing that resembles the worst episodes of the Twilight Zone--not worst-chilling or worst-thought-provoking, but worst-campy, -produced, or -cheesey.

"Playful ribbing about your golf swing!"

Anniversaries are thrown in here at the end: this could be you! You could be hobbling up there to receive your crystal paperweight for thirty years of service. At year thirty-five, your paperweight has a clock in it. This could be you. Watch and remember.

7:47am - Slideshow... if they can figure out how to simply connect a laptop to a projector and if the viruses with which they infect the entire network haven't made it impossible to run Powerpoint. Graphs... stats... "... n% under the goal..." We're doomed.

"Next quarter, right?"

8:15am - Guest speaker. This morning's guest speaker was a police officer who spoke about new trends in fraud and theft. Moral of that story: they're faster, smarter, and more creative; we're doomed.

"Buck up! Go team!"

This is where it got interesting this morning. During the ending speech meant to keep solidarity and employment pride soaring, in the ironic face of a completely hopeless and routinely superficially-themed staff meeting... booming, industrial techno falls heavily from the Cool Animator Dudes above us.

I heard it; Demon heard it; but everyone else pretended not to. It was obvious that they were having a better morning upstairs than I was downstairs. I imagined they were having a staff meeting too, but there staff meetings kick off their mornings with a Quake LAN party, an early-NIN soundtrack, 'sage egg McMuffs, and Bawls for some real gut rot.

The juxtaposition of pathetic silver linings and pseudo-inspirado pep talk accompanied by a far-off rave, was wonderful. Ampliphied in my head, it was perfect.

Score one for Cool Animator Dudes.


Part Two

INT. Office Building shared hallway - Outside of the communal bathroom

Mason exits the bathroom and pockets his DS. His morning gut rot, to which he added the largest, most-promising piece of birthday cake he could find, and coupled with a McDeez lunch of three dub-chee-burgz, had escalated his status into a suitable misery. Having just dropped off his misery and failing to solve a Puzzle Quest session, he heads back towards his department at Zen Bank.

A door in the hallway swings open as Mason walks by. A Cool Animator Dude walks out, talking on a cell phone.

COOL ANIMATOR DUDE
(into cell phone)
What's up, dude? ... Just rockin' to some
Screamin' Trees, poundin' out some animation. You?

Mason's shoulders slump as he walks away, and from his core emanates the forlorn theme from The Incredible Hulk.

Score two Cool Animator Dudes.

Mace... out.

Logic Problem

Despite a somewhat slow spring and early summer, over the last two years Hip Replacement has been doing very well. We've averaged about a gig per month with exceptions both ways and have landed a lot of great gigs. This is a complete turn around from our early days, which consisted of very few gigs and none of them great (Kings of Ice Cream Socials).

Last night, we played at a most prestigious Minneapolis venue. The sound man at this bar is perhaps the best sound man I've ever worked with. We've only worked with him twice now, but I would never hesitate to play any gig this guy runs.

Bands are treated really well where we played, what with being given a couple cases of beer and 50 complimentary tickets to give out in order to fill the room. So with a great sound man, an awesome location (practically right down the street from our rehearsal space), and being treated well, it's hard to think of reasons not to want to play there. Last night, however, the bar left me with a bad taste in my mouth--and it wasn't the complimentary High Life.

The Shitpagne of Beer.

When it came time for them to cut our check for headlining on a Saturday night, the invoice included a curious item: "cover songs $-6.00."

Really?

Out of our 15-song set list last night, five were covers--and a vast majority of the people possibly never heard three of those five (unless they've seen us play before). None of us have ever seen anything like this before, and a lot of us have played a lot of shows (covers and otherwise).

Granted, we're still pretty much a no-name band, but they were only going to pay us $100. After being invited only five days in advance. To headline. On a Saturday night. After we had to be there since 5pm (we went on at 11:45). On a night when one of the opening acts was a no-show. I'm not trying to sound ungrateful, but we've been paid more for less work and fewer pains and to play in front of fewer people (thanks again if you came out to see us!).

On top of all that, we get docked $6 for playing covers? Of course, it's only $6, but are we supposed to look the other way just because we're being nickel-n-dimed?

The irony struck me stupid for a few minutes. Original acts have to fight to get any gigs in Minneapolis or anywhere without playing covers. I guarantee that down the street last night at any given bar, a cover band was paid $300 to play the same top forty hits that they played last weekend and the weekend before and before (back until those songs were contemporary). Would those bars dock $6 if a cover band threw in a few original songs? F no. They wouldn't even notice; they'd too busy raking money like so many leaves into piles for diving into like Scrooge McDuck.

At some point in every musician's career, covers are a necessary step. You have to prove that you understand how songs become hits, and also prove that you can play them, in order to prove that your original music is worth a damn. It's a competitive market in which there is an innumerable amount of people with the shared dream of playing music for the masses. I will always prefer original music to covers, but at base I respect anyone out there playing. It might not seem like all that big of a step from the basement to the stage, but it's one that puts a musician ahead of a gear-fetishist and brand-snob who never puts all that technology nor specialized equipment to use.

The fallacy of every music scene is that covers were once new, original music that became popularized by radio and video. They became people's favorite songs, and when those people go out, they want to hear their favorite songs because they know them. Bars know this, so they are more likely to hire bands that will make their general occupants happy. Happy occupants = drunker occupants = richer bar. Bands know that bars know this, too. If music is the supply, it will naturally follow the demand. Bands with more gigs = richer bands = happy bands.

The bar we played at last night has always prided itself in being a supporter of live, original music. That's great. But is charging an original act that happens to play a couple covers really supportive? In a music scene that, again, breeds cover bands? When they're only paying the headliner $100, anyway? Or is it greed, thinly-veiled with altruistic policy? The $5.25 they charge for a bottle of beer certainly supports that thought. It's perfectly fine if a venue picks and chooses who plays for them based on their music policy. If you want covers, hire cover bands. If you want original acts, hire original acts. In our case, if it's a slight mix of both, give us a heads up. That's how to be supportive. Is feeing us a solution to anything? I didn't know you can fee music.

When it comes down to it, I'd play any gig for free. HR is happy when we make enough gig money to pay for our monthly rent at the studio. So I don't mean to complain--though I'm sure that's exactly what it sounds like. I'd like rather to plead to venues not to make it harder than it already is to play music for people. We want to play at your bar for your thirsty occupants. But really, we just want to play.

Mace... out.