Back from the 2008 NAMM show, abandoning once again sweet California for the frozen climes of the fabled Canadas.
The trip down was fine, as I think my body is naturally on Pacific Time, and a 3 hour offset just feels right to me.
To the person seated to my left on that flight:
Dear asshole,
First of all, there is no goddamned reason to talk to yourself for an entire flight. Zip it. Zip it good. More importantly, please keep your fucking shoes and socks on on when you're on a flight. The last goddamned thing anybody wants to feel is your nasty foot brushing up against them. Seriously, that is fucking gross. You should be thankful that I noticed what you were working on and surmised you were probably going down for the medical convention and that you probably just barely passed the mark at which you deserve to live. You should be equally thankful that you were seated in the row ahead of me on the return flight, because of how easy it would have been, I realized, to "accidentally" spill hot coffee all over your naked cloven hooves.
Seriously, dude, wtf.
I have a schoolboy's crush on Los Angeles, and still regret - at least a little - the fact that the potential job in Pasadena last year didn't pan out. There's something about the sun, the palm trees, and being close to the ocean that just leaves me... for lack of a better word... starstruck. Plus, there's the whole "LA thing"... it's hard not to enjoy the energy of that particular city of dreams, even if I'm all too aware of how far away the fantasy is.
I wasn't really looking forward to the NAMM trip, mainly because I'm not huge on travel, and because I'm still a reasonably inexperienced flight passenger. Rationally, I understand flying is safer than driving, statistically, but that doesn't make turbulence any more fun. Still, the convention is like summer camp. Even though it's been a year, and most of these people I've only met once (if at all), it was still really nice to see some familiar faces in the huge crowds. Plus, as much as I worry about the sacrifices it means to my personal life (I had originally planned on having my first house by 30, but 2 years later I'm still scraping buy on apartment living), I do really, really love being part of the music industry. When you share a passion for making music, it's a bond that crosses all barriers, and it's very cool to be around forty thousand people who share that.
Plus, although I wish I wasn't, I'm still a big enough starfucker that I get off on playing 'spot the celebrities'. About ten minutes into the show opening, I happened to meet Vernon Reid from Living Colour, who is one of the biggest reasons I started playing guitar. I know it's hokey that I caught up to him just to say "thank you", but he was friendly and gracious, and seemed to understand why I wanted to shake his hand. I also got to meet Josh Homme from QOTSA, and saw Tony Levin, Paul Gilbert, DJ Numark and Chali 2na, Joe Satriani (who turned up at the restaurant while I was having the best steak I've ever tasted), Dick Dale, Kerry King, and roll with Edwin Birdsong. (If you don't know who that is, you should. Especially if you listen to Daft Punk or Kanye.)
I didn't see anything new at the show that really blew my doors off, although I still saw enough magnificent toys to fill my wish list for at least another year. The best part, though, is that my company has some people spread pretty far and wide, and so it was really great to get everybody together for a bit. I've got some guys who are my brothers even if we only see each other once or twice a year.
One of my colleagues tends to get pretty excitable (he blames it on his italian heritage), and was sounding off about something that cropped up over a dinner meeting. I tapped him on the shoulder, raised my glass, and pointed out that we were having a wonderful dinner in the beautiful California weather with a table full of good friends (he later toasted "Not to business partners, but to family" which is a sentient I share), and that all things being equal, we didn't have much to complain about.
The flight back was the only drag, because some parents of the year decided it would be a good idea to bring a baby on a five-hour redeye, and it was thoughtful enough to SCREAM the entire way. I'm probably a monster, but can't help but think that if you've got a newborn in tow, then just maybe you shouldn't be making any big trips in the first place, and if you absolutely must, then maybe it's not a bad idea to consider if anybody sharing your enclosed metal tube for the next five hours might like to get a bit of sleep. Either book a babysitter, a daytime flight, or keep it in your pants next time, jackasses.
(I know, I know. But see if your milk of human kindness doesn't sour just a bit when you're on zero hours of sleep and five hours of shrieking at 30 000 feet while wedged into a chair designed for a person half your height.)
But, my dear California... I love you, and cannot wait to see you again!
The trip down was fine, as I think my body is naturally on Pacific Time, and a 3 hour offset just feels right to me.
To the person seated to my left on that flight:
Dear asshole,
First of all, there is no goddamned reason to talk to yourself for an entire flight. Zip it. Zip it good. More importantly, please keep your fucking shoes and socks on on when you're on a flight. The last goddamned thing anybody wants to feel is your nasty foot brushing up against them. Seriously, that is fucking gross. You should be thankful that I noticed what you were working on and surmised you were probably going down for the medical convention and that you probably just barely passed the mark at which you deserve to live. You should be equally thankful that you were seated in the row ahead of me on the return flight, because of how easy it would have been, I realized, to "accidentally" spill hot coffee all over your naked cloven hooves.
Seriously, dude, wtf.
I have a schoolboy's crush on Los Angeles, and still regret - at least a little - the fact that the potential job in Pasadena last year didn't pan out. There's something about the sun, the palm trees, and being close to the ocean that just leaves me... for lack of a better word... starstruck. Plus, there's the whole "LA thing"... it's hard not to enjoy the energy of that particular city of dreams, even if I'm all too aware of how far away the fantasy is.
I wasn't really looking forward to the NAMM trip, mainly because I'm not huge on travel, and because I'm still a reasonably inexperienced flight passenger. Rationally, I understand flying is safer than driving, statistically, but that doesn't make turbulence any more fun. Still, the convention is like summer camp. Even though it's been a year, and most of these people I've only met once (if at all), it was still really nice to see some familiar faces in the huge crowds. Plus, as much as I worry about the sacrifices it means to my personal life (I had originally planned on having my first house by 30, but 2 years later I'm still scraping buy on apartment living), I do really, really love being part of the music industry. When you share a passion for making music, it's a bond that crosses all barriers, and it's very cool to be around forty thousand people who share that.
Plus, although I wish I wasn't, I'm still a big enough starfucker that I get off on playing 'spot the celebrities'. About ten minutes into the show opening, I happened to meet Vernon Reid from Living Colour, who is one of the biggest reasons I started playing guitar. I know it's hokey that I caught up to him just to say "thank you", but he was friendly and gracious, and seemed to understand why I wanted to shake his hand. I also got to meet Josh Homme from QOTSA, and saw Tony Levin, Paul Gilbert, DJ Numark and Chali 2na, Joe Satriani (who turned up at the restaurant while I was having the best steak I've ever tasted), Dick Dale, Kerry King, and roll with Edwin Birdsong. (If you don't know who that is, you should. Especially if you listen to Daft Punk or Kanye.)
I didn't see anything new at the show that really blew my doors off, although I still saw enough magnificent toys to fill my wish list for at least another year. The best part, though, is that my company has some people spread pretty far and wide, and so it was really great to get everybody together for a bit. I've got some guys who are my brothers even if we only see each other once or twice a year.
One of my colleagues tends to get pretty excitable (he blames it on his italian heritage), and was sounding off about something that cropped up over a dinner meeting. I tapped him on the shoulder, raised my glass, and pointed out that we were having a wonderful dinner in the beautiful California weather with a table full of good friends (he later toasted "Not to business partners, but to family" which is a sentient I share), and that all things being equal, we didn't have much to complain about.
The flight back was the only drag, because some parents of the year decided it would be a good idea to bring a baby on a five-hour redeye, and it was thoughtful enough to SCREAM the entire way. I'm probably a monster, but can't help but think that if you've got a newborn in tow, then just maybe you shouldn't be making any big trips in the first place, and if you absolutely must, then maybe it's not a bad idea to consider if anybody sharing your enclosed metal tube for the next five hours might like to get a bit of sleep. Either book a babysitter, a daytime flight, or keep it in your pants next time, jackasses.
(I know, I know. But see if your milk of human kindness doesn't sour just a bit when you're on zero hours of sleep and five hours of shrieking at 30 000 feet while wedged into a chair designed for a person half your height.)
But, my dear California... I love you, and cannot wait to see you again!
I remember that song won like every year end guitar mag poll for best solo.