Jazz and Poultry

Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Why there can never be a cost of living increase in jazz.

    A warm welcome and a hearty g'day to ya.  Crack open a kangaroo beer, put a shrimp on the barbie and...wait, I just remembered -- I'm not Australian.  So you found your way here to this blog and by now you're probably wondering, where the hell is the content?  What did you expect, pole dances?  I'm working on it!  Give me time.  I'm a pianist, not a blogger, damnit!  Did I just curse?  We'll edit that out.
   What's the deal with musician's salaries?  We haven't received a cost of living increase since the beginning of the 20th century. (thank you, TR!)  The few times I have had the nerve to ask a club owner for a raise I've been made to feel like Oliver Twist.  More?!! 

  My favorite was 25 years ago - I had this gig in the East Village -- the place was called Princess Pamela's Little Kitchen.  Pamela weighed in at about 250 and was a surly blues singer who verbally abused her customers, but since it was the '80s the yuppies who came there loved it.  They were like, "Thank you maam, may I have another?" 

    But I digress.  The gig paid $20.00 but since it was 1985 that actually paid for 21 rides on the MTA.  I had recently moved to Brooklyn and the commute was considerably longer so I had this idea to ask for a raise. A $5.00 raise. I had to go through channels and I asked the bass player, who was the boyfriend of Pamela. "Let me get back to you on that," he told me after our gig. 

   Three days later I get a call from him: "We're not working this week."  In reality however, it was just me who was not working.  That was how they fired me!   

   But I have since gone on to bigger and better pastures, increasing my average salary by as much as five fold.  What a country!  

    That's it for post number one.  Leave me a comment and let me know you're out there and in return I'll keep on supplying you with scintillating content.  Good day

Posted at 05:32 pm by commish


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Born in a small coal mining town, I combine the ability to play I Got Rhythm in all 11 and a half keys with my love of washing machines to form a perspective so skewed that my wife insists on seperate seatings at dinner.


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