Joel T Johnson // Blog

Making the transition from bass player to singer/bass player and front man has been a challenge for me. My personality as it has developed is more that of a bass player, easy going, unobtrusive and content to remain just outside the spotlight. And singers tend to be to some extent more extroverted engaging and full of... um, bravado. You know… assholes. When I started college, and probably for some time before that, I walked a little hunched over and I tended to look at the ground. Maybe it was low-esteem, maybe my imagination had me in another world or perhaps I was just being introverted and not wanting to deal with anyone. Whatever the reason, it was body language that said: "I'm not here. If you happen to notice me, just don't disturb me". As is often the case, I was completely unaware of these vibes I was giving off. I was just living life, going to my classes and happy being myself. The Jazz ensemble I played with in college was pretty kick-ass. It was a small ensemble: a keyboard player, two drummers that switched off and myself on bass with the instructor playing guitar; a rock fusion band really. Everyone was an exceptionally hot player and our instructor choose music to match. How many community college jazz ensembles play Alan Holdsworth and Chic Corea tunes? We played the usual concerts plus some high school assemblies to promote the college music/recording program. Because we were essentially a rock ensemble we also played at the college 'bar'. This was the first opportunity for most of my friends in my audio recording classes to see me play. I had a few good friends in my major but since I lived at home for that first year I wasn't especially close to any of them. It was a year later when my friend and roommate Rob shared his impressions of that concert. "It totally blew me away," he said. "The music was really cool but that wasn't it. When I first met you I thought you were pretty cool but you seemed sort of timid and mild mannered." He told me. "You sort-of looked down at the ground when you walked, you were kind of quiet, not a lot of self confidence it seemed. "But then came that concert at the Ratskellar. When you put that bass on, it transformed you. You stood up tall, your shoulders went back. You just took command of that bass. From that point I had a completely different impression of you. This was quite an epiphany. It was good to know that I had more outward confidence than I realized when I was playing but difficult to hear that the rest of the time I was walking around like a dormouse. When I put a bass on and plugged in suddenly everyone was in my house and I stood tall and ruled but when I put the bass down I became Clark Kent again. I didn't start walking tall that day but I became aware that it was something that mattered. I started to pick my eyes up off the pavement and pull my shoulders back even when I wasn't playing bass. I walked tall even though it felt odd at first. I parlayed my offstage self confidence into even better onstage confidence which helped my performance and my ability to be a charismatic self-promoter without simply putting on an act. I just can't do that, not with a straight face. As a performer I don't endeavor to be an "asshole". It's too far from who I am but maybe it's even too close underneath it all. I can't worry about what people think about me. They only have what I give them to go on, so it might as well be real and honest The performer I try to exemplify is James Taylor. There's a cat who 'owns it' without the usual look-at-me antics. His quiet confidence comes from his unabashed honesty not from the horn-blowing compensation of many singers. As understated as he is, Taylor also stands up straight and tall and doesn't stare at the friggin' ground. Since I have committed myself to being a successful performer I have to keep on remembering to stand tall and forget the ground exists altogether.

During high school I was not cool. I was not an athlete. I had never won anything, not a contest, not a raffle, not classroom bingo… nothing. I was quite conscious of this record and that's probably why I didn't win. In school, my academics were poor. I have mentioned my so-called learning disability in a previous blog. This was a factor of course but I also just didn't care very much. I knew I wanted to be a rock musician since I was twelve and I knew I had enough talent. The logic of killing myself over world history or trig just didn't compute at the time. My brother was getting excelent grades which made me feel badly. My parents were good not to pressure me too much, I would have just rebeled but they were both teachers and I knew they were at least a little disapointed. "I'll do better. I'll work hard and... I'll just do better." I promised myself. I studied, I did homework, I but after just a few minutes it was as if I was just looking at words on the page. Each word would evaporate from my mind as I read them. It was so bloody hard, soon my desire to pick up my bass won out over the books and I was breaking new ground on bass but looking at C's and D's again. Social life wasn't much a solace either, I was completely desperate for sex or any attention at all from a girl. Of course, this made me completely unable to talk to them. While this angst made it hard to concentrate on anything it also made me a pretty decent bass player. Note: The bass guitar is a wonderful conduit for sexual energy. The sex of Rock and Roll is all about the bass and the drums. Guitars are great billboards for bravado and heart but if you want the goods in the sack girls, find yourself a bass player or a drummer. Music I had its problems too. I had barely mustered a B- on my NYSMA solo competition solo on upright bass. As a bass player I was always in the background; not a lot of recognition of any kind. I had never won an audition either. During my senior year I went to Penn Yan, New York to audition for the Area All State Jazz Ensemble. There were several others auditioning but I primarily noticed this one local guy warming up. He was a skinny kid that had a silk shirt with pictures of little records on it. He wore his bass very low, almost to his knee. He was playing some Led Zeppelin tune to warm up with. "Mr. Cool." "No problem", I thought, "I can outplay this guy. I'll clean up Mr. Cool without breaking a sweat." During my audition though, things did not go smoothly. There was no drummer or anyone to play along with. Being so exposed kinda killed my mojo. I completely botched the site-reading. One of the judges handed me a chart for a piece that he himself had composed and that I had never seen before. Without anyone else to play with, I could barely get out the notes let alone lay out a good feel. Did I mention this particular judge was also from Penn Yan: Mr. Cool's music teacher? No matter. I didn't pass the audition, needless to say. Shelly Binder, a stellar trumpet player from our school, did make it. When she returned she brought with her a jazz-rock chart that the Area All State Jazz Band had played. During jazz band rehearsal she mentioned that the bass player, "Mr. Cool", had taken a solo in the piece. My blood began to boil but then she finished. "I think Joel would have done better. He should take a solo too." Later that year Canandaigua Academy Jazz Band, our jazz band was at a jazz competition at Haverling High School in Hammondsport, New York. We were backstage, on-deck to perform. There was another band milling about that was following us. Among them was a tall slender girl in a yellow dress with a Les Paul guitar strapped on. Be still my heart! A cute girl with a Les Paul! I attempted to make conversation with her but she, noting I was wearing a cheap, Japanese built Hondo II P-bass copy, was well aware that she outclassed me by around a thousand dollars. There was no talking to her. It didn't bother me too much though. I knew what was coming. Onstage, in the late measures of our final piece, that jazz-rock piece that Shelly brought in, I reached back and twisted the volume knob on my Fender Bassman 100 sitting on top of my 2-15 speaker cabinette. I spun around in time to light into my solo. I wailed. The notes came together together like Swiss gears and left my amp like forest fire. I was completely in the moment. I relished every note. I didn't even notice if the snobby girl guitarist was impressed as we left the stage. To my imagination she would kick herself forever that she hadn't been more friendly when she had the chance. I could have thrown her a "how-do-you-like-me-now" smirk but there was no need I was on top of the world. Mr. Not-so-cool's Revenge in Four Acts: 1. During the awards there was an award for the best soloist. I barely paid attention. It's not an award for bass pla… "The bass player from Canandaigua." What? What did they say? There was back-slapping from all directions. Otherwise I'd have thought I was hearing things. Stunned I began to rise from my seat to redeem my award but the slapping hands pulled me back. Karl Taylor, our band's representative was already onstage to receive all our awards. Our band won the overall competition as well. 2. I didn't know it at the time but Mr. Cool was also in attendance for both the solo and the award. My friend Scott, also a Penn Yan student, was sitting next to him and later told me that Mr. Cool was quite impressed with my solo. My revenge was complete… Or was it? 3. Still reeling from my award, I sat on the bus with the rest of the band waiting for our director, Barry Peters, to return from the judges meeting. We were all on a psych from the win. Maybe I remember it wrong, but I got the feeling they were all nearly as happy about my unexpected win as the band's championship. When Mr. Peters reached the bus it was plain that he was very pleased too. He came right up to me grinning like the Cheshire cat. "One of the judges is the jazz band director at St. Bonaventure University. He was really impressed with your playing. In fact, he wants to pay you a scholarship to go to school there and play in their jazz band." I've never been so blown away in my life. I was already adjusting to my first "win". The word "scholarship" and I simply didn't belong in the same sentence. Frankly, it was hard to take, all this honor and attention--It was also mentioned during the morning announcements the next day at school. It was all great and wonderful but I was completely unprepared to know how to feel. 4. By the time the bus reached our school and drove home it was midnight. I rapped gently on my parents' door and stepped into the dark of their room. "You'll never guess what," I said.

I have been looking at a lot of bass playing videos on You Tube lately. I learned some new techniques and confirmed some things I had already suspected, like how Victor Wooten (bass player extraordinaire for Bela Fleck) plays those lightening fast thumb licks. I starting working on some of these things in earnest but tonight when I practiced I was reminded of my own secret techniques and how I need to be spending more time perfecting and refining those. There are thousands of bass players that saw the same videos that I did and have more time to sit and work it all out. I don't know for sure that my technique is exclusive to my playing just because I thought it up without watching anyone. I just know I've never heard anyone do it. Jimi Hendrix isn't a legend because he could play faster or cleaner than anyone. Technically speaking he was just a little sloppy, as am I. But he approached the guitar, felt about it, the way no one else could. He saturated his feelings into every single note. And his feelings were deep baby. Tony Levin has made a career of being a highly sought after bass player not because he could produce any sound or style a producer asked for. He got called because he didn't sound like anyone else. In 1972 he recorded the live album "Alive" with the Chuck Mangione. Now don't laugh, I know "King of the Hill" tells us all that Chuck is a joke but if you heard this album you would agree it's just straight hot. Tony Levin used a pick for the whole performance on round wound strings through an overdriven (slightly distorted) tube amp… on a jazz album! The most valuable product I have to offer is me because I'm the only one; a most rare commodity. The key is, I believe, to develop and demonstrate enough belief and confidence in my self, my sound and those 'deep' feelings not quite like anyone else's, that listeners and producers will hire me for what only I can do. Even if I never get quite the chops of Victor Wooten or Billy Sheehan (considered the 'Eddie Van Halen' of bass guitar). I may still work on Victor's tricks--and there's a Mark King video I've been meaning to check out--but only after I've poured enough sweat and my own soul into my own tricks to truly own them.

I attended the Monday night blues jam at that well known club I had referred to in earlier blogs. I got stuck with a pretty lousy group of players. The drummer was especially bad so I felt all my energy was going into keeping the groove together. I left the stage feeling I did pretty well, all things considered. Even though I had given a number of people who played earlier, positive feedback on their playing they said "thanks" but offered none of their own for me. I went home feeling kind of down, as if going to these blues jams was costing me $5 to be seen with a stage full of mediocre to poor players by a bunch of people who care about nothing but being seen and heard themselves, like a room full of 100 yapping mouths and not one ear. I did enjoy hearing the host play and my buddy who plays the harp; masters both. I learned a lot. Tonight, Tuesday I came form from Jeopardy and eventually picked up the bass and played along to a bunch a BB King (iPod alphabetical). I found I played a lot better when I didn't look at the fret board at all. I hit some bad notes but a lot less than I thought I would. The feel was great though. As time went on I deliberately allowed my tendencies to go their own way. I started taking more and more liberties: Fancy licks, funky rhythms and solos whenever I felt like it. Eventually I shut off the iPod. It was time to really blow off some steam. I had been behaving well for far too long, playing my little parts, working and playing well with others, coloring inside the lines. Fuck it, it's time. I took off like a 5th grade class towards the playground; whacking and strumming that bass in ways it would be pointless to try to explain—I'll upload a video someday soon. I almost immediately came up with a great little groove with a lot of bite and intensity. Soon it had a bridge and I could almost hear the vocal line. I was standing tall and proud. Shit, I was feeling cocky and full of bravado. The next time I play a blues jam (tomorrow night) this is how I will warm up. I'll barely look at the neck and I'll play free and hold little back. No solos though. I had to record this new groove, lest I forget it. As I opened up a new project I was prompted for a title… With practically no thought I typed "Beater B. Beeton". I don't know what it means or what the lyrics will be. I just know I'll be leaning forward when I play it. I walked out to the living room and stood before Audra with a shit-eating grin. She took the ear buds out of her ears. "What?" she said. "I'm back!" I said.

Allow me to divert from blogging my bass playing trek to the road to get something, though still music related, off my chest. When I was in school I would attend a number so-called "classical" music concerts. Often it was as a member of the regional youth philharmonic orchestra selling lemonade during intermissions to raise money for our European tour. We would snicker at the occasional uncouth person in the audience who would unwittingly applaud between the movements of the symphonies and concertos. Proud of ourselves that we knew better, that we knew the difference between movements and pieces. Shame on us. It was pointed out to me recently that in the nineteenth century and earlier, silence between the movements was not the convention. The conductors, performers and composers, when present, wanted and welcomed praise and recognition from their public at every opportunity, final movement or not. The music was for the purpose of enjoyment, not an opportunity to show-off one's knowledge or ability to read the program. Silence between the movements did not arrive until very late in the 1800's. It was how the rising industrial upper classes would identify and ostracize middle class invaders of their concert halls. Only those with enough education and sophistication to know the difference between a movement and the larger work were welcome here. It began as, and remains an elitist practice to this day. Meanwhile, art administration laments that they cannot meet their budgets even with… "a grant from Mobile Corporation" They leer at the lines of people paying $80 a pop to see "Outkast" and wonder what went wrong that the once-in-an-age-genius of Mozart is so ignored by the masses. Certainly the middle class being handed their hats and cast from the upper class world of classical musical is not the only cause of poor concert attendance and a dwindling interest in fine arts in general, but it sure as hell didn't help. Arts administration needs to get off its high horse and welcome the masses back into the concert hall. It's too late for most but that's no reason to give up on the next generation. There's a number of ways to do this and many orchestras are taking steps, such as casual dress Friday concerts. Somehow, someway reintroducing applause between the movements should be one of these measures. Music is for enjoyment, at least it should be. There's no reason in the world not to allow or encourage this… Unless you still need to believe you are better than others. The rich can still have their private little world. There's always chamber music.

If we're going on this journey together there's something you need to know about me: I have a disability. Yeah I know, isn't that P.C. of me? This is the kind of crap you'll never find in a press release. Now let me make something very clear. I don't make excuses. There seems to be growing number people that claim attention deficit disorder to explain everyday forgetfulness and general thick-headedness. I am also aware that there are people with much bigger challenges than mine. I mean only to tell you about this because it is relevant to the story I am telling in this blog. I don't know if it's A.D.D. that I have or if I'm dyslexic (I call it "lysdexic"). I've never been diagnosed officially. As a child I was diagnosed with temporal lobe seizures (a non-physical seizure), and being hyperactive. I spent plenty of time in the "learning centers" at my schools and was even on Ritalin for a short time. I had a hard time concentrating in school, sorting out details and transforming what my teachers were saying orally into retainable information. I had a hard time studying and doing homework and was also kind of lazy and uninspired which didn't help matters. My GPA in High school was horrible. In Community College it was slightly better but only in my core studies. Let me make something else clear: I'm not stupid. I'm not even "slow". The inner parts of my mind are often too fast for the parts that interface with the world. From the time I was in Jr. High I knew I was smarter in total cognition than most of my teachers let alone the students. I just ended up looking pretty stupid and indecisive much of the time which was monumentally frustrating and socially isolating. "Scatterbrain", now that's a term I can deal with. To this day I struggle with all sorts ordinary stuff . I have left behind at gigs: my amp, my cord bag and yes even my basses a couple of times. Essentially I think and learn differently. I have a hard time reading for more than a few minutes. Most teachers don't understand to how I learn. They try to hit me with the same methods they have great success with most other folks and it just doesn't work. This is the reason most of my music education, and many other areas have been self taught. As a bass player and singer it makes memorizing bass lines and songs time consuming. I can only practice for short periods of time, I have to take frequent breaks or new information just rolls off the top. Imagining what to say in this blog is a cinch. It's sorting out all the things not to say and getting it typed before my thoughts leave me. Just in the time I wrote that last sentence I had several good ideas and a Cornish game hen recipe fly in and out of my skull never to be heard from again. Someday I'll be doing an interview and they'll will ask me what bass players I am influenced by and I won't be able to come up with one. My brain just locks-up sometimes. It took some time after a disastrous academic career, but I have matured to the place where I just enjoy being me and relish in being different. Having a mind like mine is wonderful. I wouldn't trade it for all the "T" in China… "But sir, there is no "T" in China!" You see, this is the show going on in my head 24-7. I like it and I just plain like being me. I wouldn't be half the musician I am without it. As an adult, I have developed a skill set that helps me deal with these things: Habits, routines, knowing when to write things down and use of automatic bill pay services. It in some ways makes me more organized and on-the-ball than the regular folks. Another unexpected advantage to having this learning disability, or whatever it is, is that it tends to filter-out the assholes. It becomes plain real soon which people are patient and understanding who can think outside the box or at least deal with it. I don't even have to get rid of these idiots, they just go away on their own. Again, let me be clear that I tell you this not because I want any special consideration or so some do-gooder in the crowd will shout out "isn't he brave?" No no. I want this to be an honest blog not a press release. Good, bad or upside-down this is a part of who I am and it effects the story that is unfolding. I don't mean for this information to be some sort irony in my success as a musician and recording artist. If anything, it's my secret weapon.

I heard an interview with the Dresden Dolls the other day. It was really depressing. Not because of The Dolls, they're great! It was more a matter of the financial realities of the music world slapping me in the face. Amanda Palmer (Dolls singer & piano player) was talking about being on the road and how little money they made (less than their road crew) and how little time she spends being administrative versus creative. In fact, right now, this moment, as a measure of good karma, I'm going to log onto iTunes and buy some Dresden Dolls. I invite you to do the same. Everybody meet back here in five... Ok everone back? No? Tough shit, we're moving on. I bought "Girl Anachronism" "Modern Moolight" and "Sing". What did you all get? Ok back to business... It was a heavy moment for me (hearing the interview, remember the interview?) after some of the fire of my renewed goal to get out there on the road has lost its initial blast furnace energy. This is to be expected though, to have some moments of doubt. Audra helped lift my spirits when she pointed out my playing/singing makes me valuable as a session/road player as well as my own act and reminding me just how unique my playing/writing style is. This won't be the first time the wind gets kicked out of me and this is nothing compared to some the crap that awaits me. If I simply refuse to give up I will develop more character and tenacity with each challenge that I surpass. I should make it clear what it is I am after for both the readers of this blog and, more importantly, myself. The first step of a journey should be to check your maps, right? This makes me a little nervous making my goals public like this but here goes… My goals as a professional musician and recording artist: Stage 1. Loose 25 pounds and develop my front-man stage presence. Release a demo CD and launch several impressive videos on You Tube. Gain enough stage and session work to make my expenses. Keep my 4-to-6-day-a-month gig on Jeopardy to afford some savings and additional equipment. Stage 2. Perform and develop my original material around LA 3-4 times a month. Find a drummer, manager, an agent and other industry allies. Stage 3. Get a gig with a touring band that will alone make my expenses. Quitting all television work. And playing my solo act on off-nights when possible. Stage 4. Independently release my first non-demo CD and tour internationally as an opening act and in medium-sized clubs as a headliner, padding my income with endorsements, session work, and gigs as a graphic artist/web designer that I can work on remotely. Stage 5. Received some high-profile (positive) press like a featured article in "Bass Player" magazine or something a equal or greater stature. Perform in the main-stream media such as an appearance on a late-night talk show or an appearance on "A Prairie Home Companion", "Austin City Limits" or a similar show. I know I can do this. I certainly have the talent, unique creativity and the charisma. I just have to get over myself and my fears of putting my expectations to the test and do what it takes consistently until my obstacles simply get tired of holding me back.

In my mission to find a road gig, what I am really looking for is a "Hamburg". What I mean by 'Hamburg' has to do with a little theory I have about the Beatles and genius in general. It goes like this: The Beatles weren't formed in Liverpool England. The Beatles were formed in Hamburg Germany. Of course they met up in Liverpool and played around in Liverpool but I believe it was during their three and four month stints in Hamburg in 1960 and 1961 respectively that they became the band and the men that would change the face of music. They were playing at least six hours every day, often more, for six and seven (even eight) days a week. They learned hundreds of tunes and played them till they knew them backwards. They were also living far from home and their families and pretty much 'trapped' in that red light district where they only had time to play, sleep and… well it was a red light district. They came of age musically and emotionally (and chemically) in Hamburg. They learned about pop music, themselves and each other so well that it would enable them to create arguably some of the greatest collaborations in the history of music; a Rock-and-Roll University of sorts. The theory continues: Every great musician, group or even architect, yogi or world leader have their "Hamburg"; that highly impressionable period of time when their genius incubates and develops, removed from where it blossoms and is recognized. What will my 'Hamburg' be? A road gig? A phase of psychedelic experimentation? A year in Tibet? Who knows but I'm ready for it now. When I first moved to LA, I was broke and newly divorced and very much alone. I was living off the craft table at "Win Ben Stein's Money" and walking two miles to studion every day. Then just for giggles I got cancer. I should disclose that the cancer was not of the chemo-variety. I am cancer-free today and I fortunately didn't have to go through the hell the way many do. This period could have been a Hamburg but I must not have been ready. Perhaps it was the preparation for the preparation. The preparation of the "H" so to speak. I have never really practiced consistently for a long period of time and with any real discipline of technique. I have never hit the open mics in town very hard. I have never been good at schmoozing but it's time I learn well enough until I can find someone willing to do it for me (I'm searching for that person BTW). It's time I sat down with a metronome and hammered on scales and some of these techniques of mine that I've never heard another bass player attempt. It's time I committed to playing at least two open mics every week and making that amazing video for You Tube. Even though I'm too old by most reckoning to embark on a journey like this, now is the time for me to go to my Hamburg whether it's on the road with some band or right here in my apartment leaving a pile of bass guitar sawdust under my practice chair. I'm open to it and ready to roll. Now the Beatles had an Rishikesh, India too but one step at a time!

My name is Joel and I'm a bass player/singer/songwriter and a good one too, I don't mind saying. This blog started just as an extension feature of my Myspace page. When I was inspired to say something I did but otherwise I let it go for months at a time. This past week I had an audition; a pretty big one. While wringing my hands about the potential life-changing results and wringing hands and feet waiting for those results I wrote in this blog to keep from going crazy. It was great therapy for calming my nerves and I am at least no crazier than I was. In the meantime something else happened. Someone has starting reading this thing. Several someones it would seem. So now it has a title, a theme and a mission. I in-turn am making a commitment to post to this blog at least once a week likely more often than that. I have known since I was about 11 that I wanted to be a musician. There have been very few performances I haven't spent all my time in the audience thinking: "What am I doing here? I need to be on the stage. I could easily do what they're doing." I have always like to travel too so I used to gaze longingly at the tour buses parked outside concert arenas knowing that tomorrow it would parked somewhere else. Though I never lost that dream but I have had some detours and distractions. This blog may talk about where I come from but it's really about where I'm going. For reasons that are made clear in the past few postings I am closer to my dream of being a professional musician on the road than I have ever been. To quote Cosmo Kramer: "In my mind, I'm already there." I invite you to take this journey with me as I find a gig and hit the road. I don't know what will happen but I do know that I've got a bee in my bonnet and it's only a matter of time, phone calls and auditions before I get the gig I'm after and beyond.

Either it's a quirk or this blog might be getting a little bit of attention if the numbers are any indication. Perhaps folks are curious about what's going on in regards to the audition. I certainly was. I'm going fast here so no spell or grammar checks for now. As you know I was going crazy wondering what the outcome of the audition was going to be. I had another deadline looming in that I had a television gig that someone needed to purchase airline tickets for and I wasn't sure if I was going. Last night I called my contact in the band to let him know about my deadline. He apologized for not calling me sooner and explained the situation. He told me of the bass players that auditioned I was by far the best and it was almost a no-brainer to hire me. That was good to hear let me tell you! Where it got sticky was that an old friend of the band had expressed interest in playing with them again on the road and since he was a friend and he knew much of the material they would like to have him. He was unable to make a firm commitment until some details were worked out with his day gig or something like that. He told me that things were still up-in-the-air and he would call me on Friday with a definite answer. By high noon, I requested. So it seems I was not the only one biting my nails this week. Everyone was except for the other players who auditioned. Apparently they had called at least one of them on Tuesday to let them know that were out of the running. They didn't want to loose me if they needed me but they wanted their friend if they could get him. I can't say I would have done any different. It might have been a sleepless night without some valerian root and my wife gently rubbing my head, she's the best! A few minutes before noon my phone ran and my contact with the band told me they were indeed able to get a commitment from their friend and they would not be hiring me. He apologized again at length and thanked me for how hard I had worked on the audtion material. And wanted to be sure the door was open to work with them down the road. I certainly understood. Keeping my perspective by remembering the actors who get rejected scores more than I will ever audition. I knew, as my mother reminds me, that everything happens as it's supposed to and this will probably mean something better awaits me. None-the-less I was disappointed. I really did want to play with these guys. About an hour later. Another member of the band gave me a call to also say he was sorry that they weren't able to hire me after I played so well for the audition and also wanted to keep open the possibility of future work. I was impressed with their sincerity and thoughfulness. Pretty rare in the entertainment world. So now I feel all dressed up with nowhere to go. But I do have a gig tonight so I guess that's where I'm going for now. Pandora's box has been opened though and I will not be content with my life as it has been and I have those guys to thank for it.