It does however depend upon who’s telling them.
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It does however depend upon who’s telling them.
I guess I'm safe - because most people only listen my albums once, and then give them away to Goodwill . . . where the new owner only listens to it once, and then gives it to the Salvation Army store . . . where the new owner only listens to it once, and then gives it back to Goodwill . . .
I've only made it to page 3 so far, but I need to get off the computer soon. So just in case no one's posted these yet:
How many guitarists does it take to change a lightbulb?
All of 'em. One changes the bulb and the rest say, "I can do that!"
How many banjo players does it take to eat a 'possum?
Three. One to eat the 'possum and two to direct traffic.
What's the difference between a viola player and a seamstress?
A seamstress tucks up the frills.
No thanks on the Presidency - they'll start digging into my past and find out that I nearly burned down a nuns convent, back in 1972 . . . and then in 1978 I underpaid my taxes by $6.00 . . . not to mention the fact that last Saturday night I took two straws when I bought a Pepsi at the ballpark.
Our band was originally made up of 3 guys all of which were somewhat long in the tooth. The youngest is 62 and I'm the oldest at 75. We called ourselves "Three Old Men Desperately Seeking Attention."
So several years ago my band played a gig at a local church. After we had finished the folks started going downstairs for some coffee and cake. A woman came up to me and said "Those were some of the worst songs I've ever heard". I apologized and told her we'd try to do better next time. As we continued to tear down our equipment she came up and said "And all of you were out of tune". Again I apologized and said we'd try to do better next time. The Pastor came over and said "I see you've met Edith". I said, "Yes, we have". He said "Don't pay attention to what she says, she just repeats what everyone else is saying."
This reminds me of a nursing home where we play two or three times a year. Most residents are in wheel chairs and taking the slow road downhill. There was one lady -Lucille- who yelled out "I'm ready to go back to my room now!" after we got half way through our first set the first time we played there. Later I found out she was in the room next to my mother's. She was always calling out "Help! Help!" The first time I heard it, I found a CNA to go assist her, but the CNA told me that they ignore her since she is always calling for help when she really didn't need it. Anyway, Lucille had been a choir director for many years and didn't think that anyone met her high standards, which included my trio, I guess.
After Lucille passed away, the next time we played the nursing home, I heard a different lady way in the back of the room say to her table mates, "These guys aren't very good" during one break between songs. You have to love nursing homes for the lack of filters, eh?
Your band may be excellent, but I know, after visiting my mother in old folks homes for many years, that there is another side to the story. Mom was a very musical person, who played music, sang, led singsongs, directed musicals, and led children's choirs for many decades. When she turned 97, she was still a lively piano player, popular in her residence. There's no reason that she have lost all her musical discernment because she was old. She complained of situations like a cub leader deciding that the kids should sing carols for the old folks. It was a big effort for some of these elderly folks to get to the entertainment room, then they discovered that the cub leader had no ability to direct a choir and clearly hadn't rehearsed the children thoroughly. This put the old folks in the position of having to sit through a boring, perhaps irritating, show, or to get up and walk out, which they knew was hurtful for performers. Mom had a similar attitude to some -- by no means all -- of the adult amateur performers who came around. Personally, though I'm supportive or at least tolerant of just about anyone who performs on an open stage, I won't sit through 3/4 of an hour listening to someone who is a poor performer and never seems to improve. Still, I hate to make a public statement by walking out. Why should someone in a home feel differently -- especially if physical pain is part of the price they pay for being in the audience? Any seniors home is bound to have some musical sophisticates in it. Poor musicians and singers aren't doing them any favours by playing for them. That being said, there are plenty of cranks and snobs of all ages in this world, critical of everything, or everything that isn't classical, jazz, pop, NY alternative metal, or their favourite genre,. You'll never please them. Furthermore, many old folks are partially deaf, and may make critical comments much louder than they wish -- though not always.
Sorry there's no joke in this post, but I wanted to stand up for old folks who aren't always appreciative of volunteers, as we may be in their situation some day. (Added: And that's not even getting into paid entertainers -- how would any of us feel if our landlord was using our rent to pay for shows "for us" by poor musicians?)
Thanks for sharing. Your point is well taken. I have sat with my mother through some pretty amateurish performances by others, but the people still attend because there is not much else going on at the time.
Our trio has gotten very good feedback from every place that we have played so I don't take the nursing home comments personally. Some people, especially the elderly, are not open to hearing something new. I have also seen how the filters disappear once dementia and Alz starts to set in. My hope is that I am graceful when my downhill run begins.
A banjo player goes to the doctor.
"Doc, I can't stop playing 'The green, green grass of home.'"
"That sounds like Tom Jones syndrome."
"Is it common?"
"It's not unusual..."
———————————
A psychiatrist congratulates his patient, the singer in a rock and roll band, on making such good progress.
”You call this progress?” snaps the guy.
”Six months ago, I was God.
Now I’m a singer in a rock and roll band!”
Reminds me of an occasion when we played in a home for coma patients. 50 intubated, inert bodies in wheelchairs, breathing like Darth Vader, and I had the direct and alarming feeling that they all hated being there, without even a chance to walk out. "Creepy" doesn't even come close. I can't do that again.
I fully realize that this isn't even close to your experience - but . . . I once played at a county fair where the act that went on after me was a dance troupe of 5 and 6-year old girls. For the last 15 minutes of my set the seats were filled with old men, sitting stoically with arms crossed, wanting nothing else than to see their cute little granddaughters dance around on stage in pink tutus. In those moments, I have have no doubt that I was all but invisible to each and every one of those men. They may not have been comatose, but it wasn't too, too far off.
I bought a Johnson resonator mandolin simply because it is big. I could then tell an audience that "You don't need a big Johnson to play mandolin, but it helps".
Re: difficult audiences: Some bluegrass friends were playing at a local hospital a few years ago, going from room to room. They popped into one guy's room and played him a song. As they were leaving one of them said "I hope you get better." The patient replied "I hope you do too."
How do you keep a bass player and a banjo player in suspense?
Over on the TalkBass forum is a very long thread with suggestions for Dad Band names. It's one of the funniest threads I've ever seen. Some examples:
Steely Dad
My Morning Meeting
Velcro Addiction
The Incontinentals
Soulpatch Combover
The Arrhythmics
You get the idea
Q: How many orchestra conductors does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: Nobody knows, because nobody looks at the conductor!
A new bass owner sought out a teacher. At the first lesson, he learned how to play one note. A week later, at the second lesson, he learned another note. He failed to show up for the third lesson.
The teacher called him the next day to ask where he was. The student replied “I had a gig”.