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Secret Lives of Musicians von Orlaine, Emmett (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 19.12.2012
  • Verlag: BookBaby
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Secret Lives of Musicians

The lion's share of a musician's life is devoted to playing music and most of what's left is spent on music-related activities-but not all of it. There's still some time remaining that's spent away from music-and that's when musicians live their secret lives. These are stories from those secret lives. The musicians in these four stories vary in age, style, experience, and proficiency. They come from different parts of the country, were raised under disparate circumstances, and have dissimilar educations. Most, but not all, are professional-meaning music is their main source of income. None are rich or famous. All are gifted, none excessively. Half of them sing and half are composers. Their goals differ and some are more driven than others. But they do have one thing in common: they play the guitar. But these are not stories about chords and amps and the biz. These are stories from their privates lives, their secret lives, stories about a shipwreck, drug smugglers, corrupt cops, shady politicians, international intrigue, exotic women, several hurricanes, arrest warrants and manhunts, midnight escapes, jails and jungles, stranded on a tropical beach, driving all night, driving cross country, driving a vehicle out of control down the side of a mountain, date drugs, Southern mansions, modern theater, sexual assault, a catastrophic flood, true friends, true love, and that's not all. These stories are about four musicians living their secret lives.

Produktinformationen

    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: AdobeDRM
    Seitenzahl: 265
    Erscheinungsdatum: 19.12.2012
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9781624886102
    Verlag: BookBaby
    Größe: 603kBytes
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Secret Lives of Musicians

I. Cahuita

1. Austin to San José

I remember the first time it happened. The bandleader pointed at me and I went blank. I reached for it again - nothing. I was horrified. This had never happened to me before.

Studio professionals call it the Sideman Syndrome and they say the symptoms sneak up on you like a yawn. Solos become safe and predictable, energy is minimal, and there is no fever. At first you think you're just in a little rut, but the next thing you know, bingo - you're playing a musical instrument on automatic pilot. Mindless stuff. And unless you act fast, they say it's all down hill from here.

I was in denial for months until it became too obvious and I had to admit it to myself: I had a problem. My spontaneity was gone. Nothing was coming from inside. My ability to inspire and distinguish myself was at an all-time low. All I knew was something wasn't right.

And this was why everything I'm about to tell you happened.

Pete Porter is my name, I live in Austin, Texas, and I play the electric guitar for a living. I don't sing, don't write songs, and certainly don't think of myself as any kind of a rock star. I make a decent living and I like what I do.

No one else appeared to be aware of it, but the spark, my spark, was missing in action. Improvising - playing off the top of my head - moment-to-moment - was everything to me. It was why and how I managed to create something out of nothing night after night. But now, my generator - my inherent ability to convert life into melody on demand - was barely functioning and I had no panacea. I needed one.

So I decided to do something drastic, something to shake things up, to snap myself out of it - but snap forward at the same time. My solution was to take a break, a sabbatical, to go somewhere extraordinary to study, regroup, and recharge.

But where? Location would be critical. It had to be somewhere new, somewhere outstanding, exotic, maybe historic, a destination whose ambiance alone would add dimension and character to my mission.

Of course, Europe came to mind first. Paris. London. A few former band mates were now living in England and perhaps they could be helpful. Or not. Someone suggested Lisbon, one of my favorite cities. Another, Rio - I've always loved Brazilian guitar music. Even though I knew time was running out, I continued to put off the decision. Australia? It would be great to see my friend Graeme again. I was stuck in a holding pattern.

Then I met Natalia. It was in East Austin at a private party a few days before Halloween and I was there on a job, playing lead guitar with a local folk singer. At break time, I went in pursuit of drink and there she was, standing by the bar, a stunning Latin beauty with a radiant smile in blue satin, high heels, and large, silver earrings. I struck up a conversation.

Natalia was from Costa Rica, friendly, funny, and a little younger than I, and she talked to me for the rest of my break about her wonderful country. She was a walking tourist bureau, going on and on about the rainforests and the volcanoes, the mountains and the oceans, the Caribbean and Pacific beaches, the coffee and the food, and before I went back up for the last set, I said to her, "Okay, I'm sold, where do I sign?" But she left before the set was over so I didn't have an opportunity to talk to her again.

...

So fast-forward now, to the end of the year, almost January. I was having a post-gig breakfast sometime after midnight at the Magnolia Cafe on South Congress and thinking about my sabbatical. I couldn't put it off any longer, time was running out. I had to do it now or lose it.

By the time I was ready to pay for my short stack of buttermilks, my working plan was to find a remote lodge so

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