Musical musings & going back to basics

It's been a helluva week, and I suppose now's a good time for an update. These have become increasingly diary-like and less commentary and editorial-like. Does anybody actually give a rat's ass about most of my days, and how I spend them? I didn't think so. I took a look at my recent blogs & realized they were brief, news-paper like descriptions of work shifts, post-work shift drinking, gigs, and a girl at school. Not that there's much else for me to write about, but I ought to at least embellish it a little for rhetorical purposes.

First on the list to comment about is the MCC musical, Smokey Joe's Cafe. This weekend is the production, and comes at the conclusion of hell week. I've been at the theatre for technical and dress rehearsals every night since monday, and have seen every manner of moronic, inept, and unjustifiably pompous behaviour possible within 6 days.

Allow me to clarify that the band is flawless. We show up on time, have our equipment set up and ready to go, and play with style and competance. If there's one aspect of this musical which isn't fucked up, it's us.

Now, on to the fuck-ups. We may start with the stage crew. I've done lots of crew... 2 1/2 years' worth at MCC alone. I've done about everything: deck crew, props, set construction and painting, fly rail, lighting and light board, sound engineering and re-enforcement, and stage management. I've worked with many knowledgable and intelligent people, and it hurts to see something as vital as crew in the hands of bumbling, inbred, slack-jawed buffoons. I don't think this collection of knuckle-dragging imbeciles has an aggregate IQ even in the double-digits. Including the idiot stage manager. I had an argument with the sound guy about an unneccesary line-out from my amp, when my bass was already going direct, the lightboard operator (a job an autistic monkey could do, since MCC has an automated board) can't follow simple directions and routinely misses cues, the flymen have a habit of flying drops in at break-neck speeds, only to have them slam onto the deck, causing an audible racket, and the remainder of the hairy-tongued, worthless deck-hands stand around drooling on themselves. On top of fucking everything up by trying to do their jobs, they also like to blame the band for everything too, and admonish us to be on time when it was one of the shit-head actors who, on two occasions, held up rehearsals for almost 20 minutes each time. If I were stage manager I'd have fired, or possibly gassed them all, or quit myself.

Onward to the actors. Always the weakest link in any production, these fools seem to think the world revolves around them, when in reality they're merely replaceable functionaries. In the case of Smokey Joe's, their brief job description is about as follows: sing mostly in tune, dance with something resembling grace and balance, be in the right costume at the right time, and (most importantly) shut up & do what you're told. Most of them can accomplish virtually none of this. They prefer to sing somewhat near, but not actually in the key, stumble around like a bunch of weak-kneed, drunken clod-hoppers, they appeared to have remarkable difficulty in dressing themselves, despite having costumes ready & prepared for them back-stage, and typically, you have to yell louder than them in order to get them to pay attention to anything you tell them to do, and then they either ignore it, or totally fail to comprehend it.

Aside from those minor details, you also have the actor's attitude. Now it's normal and almost customary to expect actors to be melodramatic and at least slightly confident in their abilities (whatever the hell those may actually be), but it gets kind of farcical when you run into an arrogant prick or two in an MCC production. We have the obvious point that if one was really all that remarkable an acting talent, why in the hell would they be at MCC? It's not exactly Julliard or Old Vic. Well, on monday or tuesday (all the days blended together, really), one of the male actors, a species known for it's delicate ego and pompous strut, actually declared that he wasn't going to do a costume change, as it would be too difficult. He would "just perform." Amazing, isn't it? He's just so remarkable an acting talent that he doesn't need to be in costume! Why worry about little things like the production when you're that fucking good? Hell, why isn't he on Broadway? I mean, they could really use someone like him... there's a serious shortage of actors with qualifications such as not being able to carry a tune in a bucket, having the vibrato of a lawn-mower, stomping all over the stage like a lummox in some feeble attempt at "dancing" and questioning the judgement of the directors and designers. Man, they'd just love someone like him in the big leagues.

Despite my florid description of this production, it's actually going well, and I'm having a whale of a time playing. The band rocks, as I mentioned, and we're unquestionably the best part of the show. There are a couple of the actors who are behaving like professionals most of the time, and can actually sing too. The music's become stuck in my head and just when I'm having a good time... it's all over tomorrow. The main rag goes out for the final time at 2:00pm tomorrow. From the sound of it, if this isn't the final musical for Mr. Fitt, next fall's will be. He told us that he's tempted to bow out on top, since we're the best pit band the school's had in years now. I like to bitch (and admit it... you enjoy reading me bitch, don't you?), but it's mostly a fun show, and I'm glad I got to do this as a musician this time... it was high time I completed my full tour around the theatre. I'll finish up (possibly) in the spring as stage manger for a Broadway Revue, which I'll have to comment on as it develops.

Not much else to report. School's done for the fall in a couple weeks and I'll be scrambling like a Haitian swimming to shore to pass piano. Tatiana & I have been continuing in our sarcastic banter pretty frequently, and I have to admit it's fun to hang around her. She's definitely not too hard on the eyes either. After the show friday night, I had invited her over for dinner, but she had a lesson & other assorted responsibilities saturday morning, so she was hesitant to come. Instead, we sat in her car, in the MCC lot for at least a good half hour talking & joking while she tried to make up her mind about this tough decision. A compromise was decided on, wherein we went to Tim Horton's. At Tatiana's behest, I got a bowl of chili... since she was fasting that day she couldn't have chili herself. After our leisurely snack there, we lingered in her car awhile longer, and after all the time we spent, she'd have had enough time for a 12-course meal if she came over instead. But it was a pant-load of fun and damn, Tim Horton makes some good food. She has to fast & give up meat for about five (5) weeks starting on the 28th for her religion's lent, so I'm trying to get her over for a steak-out sometime next week, and since she's easily bribed with food, I'm pretty sure I can make it happen. Five weeks without meat... damn. But hey, if it makes her feel better, more power to her, I say. Call me a heathen, but if any deity would punish me for eternity (assuming any of that stuff exists or is true) for what I eat for dinner, then I'm not sure I'm a big fan of theirs anyways. So, considering that opinion, I guess I actually am a heathen... whatddya know?

That's enough of this exhaustive entry. Back to the old, acidic style of Griff journaling.