The Glamorous Life of a Musician

There's a fine line between doing what you love and being a mug.  Recently, I think I've slipped into the latter category. I have been practising saying, "No" but it happens at the wrong times.  Yesterday, a lovely colleague came up to me and I just said, "no" before she'd even asked anything.  The trouble was she was going to ask if I wanted a drink.

I had a difficult day yesterday and would have happily ended the life of one or two people.  I started a whiny blog last night but luckily had to go out before it was finished.  I was a little confused to find that I was playing for the Little Shop of Horrors show.  A tiny memory in the back of my brain is telling me that I said I couldn't do it because I would be too busy this week.  Luckily, my part is mainly rests, so no practice was required.

There is nothing quite like doing what you love, with a group of people who are also there doing what they love.  The pit band are a brilliant group of people.  They all give up their evening because they love music.  They sit in a cold, dark barn at the back of the stage not seeing the show or the audience. Hidden from view because of their extreme ugliness.  Occasionally, a Lovie, trips past, "oh no, I completely mucked that up," they giggle.  The percussionists leap about, making faces and rude gestures.  The trumpet player constantly checks his Twitter feed.  The musical director counts in, giving  a "3,4" count for all pieces, even those in 2.  The 2nd keyboard player can't hear a note he is playing and hopes that it sounds OK.  The Baritone Sax player has a nasty cold and it's difficult to tell whether the honking is coming from the instrument or the nose blowing.  The first reed player keeps forgetting that there is a microphone above her head, using colourful language when she misses a note or has the wrong instrument in her hand.  I read my book and hope I don't miss my four notes.

From where we are there are several scenes that just don't seem to make sense.  I am particularly confused about the monkey in the Dentist Chair number.

People think that musicians are happy to work for free.  "Yes, but you do it for the love," a colleague said to me yesterday, when I complained that his wife would be getting paid (well) for marshalling an event that I was doing for nothing. Maybe they think the kudos of being seen and heard is enough.  Personally, I hate that part.  I'm not comfortable with praise but I do like to be able to pay my bills.