Connection point, N.L. steps into a smoke hole - By N.L. Belardes
Sometimes things happen in the Bakersfield music scene that are bigger than the individual. Sometimes the overall vision is greater than one band, or greater than my blog that tries to capture some of its essence; greater even than my gripes that recently stated I would not attend any more shows.
I had informed the Silver Fox Bar that I wasn’t showing up to their Thursday night festivities in an email written to them yesterday. I figured I could do that since Silver Fox representative, Mike B. recently directed me to a web site graphically laced with his political views of American policies killing babies in the Middle East. Of course, when I directed him to my site in a fair-is-fair you showed me your dead baby site and your political views and so now I will show you my blip of a redneck town music community site and a meaningless bit of music gossip rhetoric… you know, so he could learn some of my music scene views as compared to his recent ‘American bombarding of dead baby’ views. I figured, no problem, he would look, see what my beef was with being disappointed in local bands, and all would be well in the universe... I mean, I am very kind about not turning this into a political blog. I can honestly say Bakersfield Music Scene Gossip and the Arts is not a political platform. None of you know what my political views are.
Of course it seemed that it just pissed him off that I directed him to my site like he’d directed me to the dead baby site, so he wrote, “Well excuse me for not keeping up with your day to day movements. Fuck dude, all I did was invite you to a gig…” And he wrote that this morning… why do I mention that?
Believe it or not, I actually went to the gig: Norfolk and Liars and Thieves playing over at the smokiest hole in town: The Silver Fox Bar.
I mean, these are the kind of people I’m dealing with in the music scene. I wrote him back and let him know that I actually was there. I even bought a beer. I even stood right in front of Norfolk while some drunken lurch of a woman kept throwing her arms around man after man. One young lady said, “Did she piss her pants?” These are inconveniences you have to put up with in smoke holes; I can look past them. A whole lot of great musicians were in attendance: the guys from Seven to the Right, Liars and Thieves, Norfolk, and Another Year, some dude from Seed; not to mention, Les Paw was in the house—he’s the bassist for that Latino-edged rockabilly band, Fatt Katt and the Vonzippers—the only non-country band to regularly play the Crystal Palace other than Cake.
Why do I bring this up? Perhaps for the very reason I didn’t stay home to play board games and knit a sweater for the next door three-am-yapper dog—a nice cardigan with no neck hole so that annoying mutt might be muffled for once…
Like I was saying, sometimes the music scene is bigger than the gripe. It just so happened that last night was an important connection night in the great Cosmos. I had to backtrack on not attending shows. This was more important than anything I had to say. Forget about the smoky martini shack; forget about my anger at not wanting to attend shows. Twain the two shall meet, and they did, and I was right… to promote all you have to do is be creative, and I was, and folks said I was nuts, and… you want to know what the connection was, and I’m not telling… but I’m one step closer to proving that you develop a dream and then you plant the seeds, nurture the media, allow talent to run its course, and whammo! A dream comes true… I won’t be the crazy one in the end, and a few guys are already realizing that this old man has some marketing magic up his sleeve.
Lost Ocean wasn’t crazy when they asked me during the reggae-less reggae fest to be their manager. I was flattered. But I said a kindly, “Sorry boys.” But there are a few bands here who know that being successful takes good marketing know-how, credibility, and pro-active behavior... I am very excited about the ‘connection point’ last night; very excited about its potential.
It’s too bad the Silver Fox had to curse at old N.L. the next morning as if I had slept with that dirty old bar in my smoke-infested jeans and then tried to throw my arms around its cold buns in the morning. It had been a great night regardless of the cold slap in the face. And yes, last night served its purpose even if that young whippersnapper James Ratliff did sing into a sock.
I had informed the Silver Fox Bar that I wasn’t showing up to their Thursday night festivities in an email written to them yesterday. I figured I could do that since Silver Fox representative, Mike B. recently directed me to a web site graphically laced with his political views of American policies killing babies in the Middle East. Of course, when I directed him to my site in a fair-is-fair you showed me your dead baby site and your political views and so now I will show you my blip of a redneck town music community site and a meaningless bit of music gossip rhetoric… you know, so he could learn some of my music scene views as compared to his recent ‘American bombarding of dead baby’ views. I figured, no problem, he would look, see what my beef was with being disappointed in local bands, and all would be well in the universe... I mean, I am very kind about not turning this into a political blog. I can honestly say Bakersfield Music Scene Gossip and the Arts is not a political platform. None of you know what my political views are.
Of course it seemed that it just pissed him off that I directed him to my site like he’d directed me to the dead baby site, so he wrote, “Well excuse me for not keeping up with your day to day movements. Fuck dude, all I did was invite you to a gig…” And he wrote that this morning… why do I mention that?
Believe it or not, I actually went to the gig: Norfolk and Liars and Thieves playing over at the smokiest hole in town: The Silver Fox Bar.
I mean, these are the kind of people I’m dealing with in the music scene. I wrote him back and let him know that I actually was there. I even bought a beer. I even stood right in front of Norfolk while some drunken lurch of a woman kept throwing her arms around man after man. One young lady said, “Did she piss her pants?” These are inconveniences you have to put up with in smoke holes; I can look past them. A whole lot of great musicians were in attendance: the guys from Seven to the Right, Liars and Thieves, Norfolk, and Another Year, some dude from Seed; not to mention, Les Paw was in the house—he’s the bassist for that Latino-edged rockabilly band, Fatt Katt and the Vonzippers—the only non-country band to regularly play the Crystal Palace other than Cake.
Why do I bring this up? Perhaps for the very reason I didn’t stay home to play board games and knit a sweater for the next door three-am-yapper dog—a nice cardigan with no neck hole so that annoying mutt might be muffled for once…
Like I was saying, sometimes the music scene is bigger than the gripe. It just so happened that last night was an important connection night in the great Cosmos. I had to backtrack on not attending shows. This was more important than anything I had to say. Forget about the smoky martini shack; forget about my anger at not wanting to attend shows. Twain the two shall meet, and they did, and I was right… to promote all you have to do is be creative, and I was, and folks said I was nuts, and… you want to know what the connection was, and I’m not telling… but I’m one step closer to proving that you develop a dream and then you plant the seeds, nurture the media, allow talent to run its course, and whammo! A dream comes true… I won’t be the crazy one in the end, and a few guys are already realizing that this old man has some marketing magic up his sleeve.
Lost Ocean wasn’t crazy when they asked me during the reggae-less reggae fest to be their manager. I was flattered. But I said a kindly, “Sorry boys.” But there are a few bands here who know that being successful takes good marketing know-how, credibility, and pro-active behavior... I am very excited about the ‘connection point’ last night; very excited about its potential.
It’s too bad the Silver Fox had to curse at old N.L. the next morning as if I had slept with that dirty old bar in my smoke-infested jeans and then tried to throw my arms around its cold buns in the morning. It had been a great night regardless of the cold slap in the face. And yes, last night served its purpose even if that young whippersnapper James Ratliff did sing into a sock.
This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on
Friday, August 12, 2005.
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