To be, or not to be, I suppose that could be the question. The problem is, no one’s got the bloody time of day to answer it! We’re too busy trying to figure out our own shit. Scratch that. We’re too lazy to do that. Most of you would probably consider going to a fast food place too much effort, and would rather sit around, scratching your ass, while someone delivers it to you. Let me tell you, my friend, that’s a whole lot of lazy.
As a musician, you should be asking yourself two things:
- “Who am I?”
- “What meaningless purpose do I have in this shit-infestation of a world?”
As superior as we like to think we are, humans are really only about as square as a football (NFL or FIFA: take your pick). Our simplistic minds constantly need to categorize things, because we can’t be bothered to fucking think for ourselves. In doing so, we’ve had the brilliant idea of creating stereotypes, effectively allowing us to paint people with a brush big enough to wipe everyone’s dingleberry stinkpie. It’s like having the most harmonious Tetris game ever, where every piece fits perfectly, and suddenly getting that useless “L” bastard that’s just going to ruin EVERYTHING.
God forbid, your brain might melt down from a nuclear fart reaction if you actually tried using it.
No, no… We most certainly do not want that to happen, rest assured. Fellow musicians, I’ve got your back and decided to breastfeed you the answers from my manly bosom. You see, the musician population is not exempt from stereotypes, and we tend to be a fairly odd bunch. So in case you’re about to have a major identity crisis, do not (guitar) fret!
Here’s everything you need to know about the species known as Musicians:
The egocentric dick of the bunch, the world clearly revolves around you. The front(wo)man gets the reap all the benefits of being in a band without having to do a damn thing. No one expects you to do anything, but they’ll still bitch about it. Try to carry something. Go on, I dare you. Your efforts will feel like a kitty litter box that just got a fresh dose of cat hot sauce. A vocalist is the needy kid constantly searching for approval from his parents. Hate to break it to you, but it’s not going to happen, son. As the only organic instrument, no one’s going to understand the hardships of maintain your voice. For every excuse, you’re just complaining like a diva, again. Sorry Maverick, but you’re flying solo on this one. On the bright side, you get to discuss your Freudian issues with the crowd, and pretend like you have something important to say. Alone in your misery, you’re destined for a life of greatness and solitude. Most people won’t even care if you sing properly. Dress to impress, have pretty hair, and you’re all set. If all else fails, you can always bite a bat’s head off. You poor, pretentious, air-huffing, phallic symbol.
PS: Never give this individual a microphone, or any type of instrument, before it’s time to play. He’s just going to spend his time making random noises.
A solo so epic, it’s shattering.
Look out for these deaf a**holes. No matter how loud they’re roaring, they only have one purpose in life: to turn their guitars up even LOUDER. If the amp’s not at level 11, it’s not enough. If it doesn’t feel like there’s a demon screaming straight into your ear, it’s not loud enough. Seriously, they’re on a bad side-quest to commit massive Audio-Genocide. Best methods of warming up are jerking off on a constant basis, and it doesn’t matter if it’s the neck of a guitar, or their very own skinflute. Beware, some specimens have been known to compensate for extraordinarily small reproductive organs with excessively large pedal boards. I mean really, there’s enough space in some of those to bury an entire family. Subjects are easily recognizable as their guitars go everywhere with them. Without them, their life loses all meaning. In order to attain the full status of a guitarist, you may need to own a minimum of 5 guitars. Don’t worry though, skills are optional. These guys live by the tuner, and die by the tuner. They also invade the entire sound check time from the other instruments, and flail their guitars around like they’re having a seizure.
PS: Guitarists are an elitist breed, constantly on the search for betterment. If you’re not a guitarist, don’t expect to ever understand what they’re talking about. What the hell is a string gauge, anyway?
Easily the most under-appreciated of the bunch, these guys have a popular tendency to be weird. No one ever really understands what a bassist is thinking, nor what they’re really about. To be honest, they don’t generally seem to know that either. For your own safety, when confronted with these creatures, avoid eye contact, and run for your life. Living in a world between the rhythm and melodic section, bassists roam in and out like ghosts, and are very unpredictable in their appearances. In a sense, they are to the Musician Kingdom what a bee is to the Animal Kingdom. Annoying and yet annoyingly essential. The outcasts of the Guitarist squad, Bassists see themselves forced to adopt a 4-string way of life, clearly unable (in most case) to process the utility of an additional 2 strings. It has been noted that some compensatory behaviors involve a negative correlation between talent and size of cabs. Thankfully, the biggest size is limited to an 8×10 or we’d be stuck with cabs bigger than the Eiffel Tower. Though, with only four strings, you have to wonder how often they get bored considering they’re really only following guitars.
PS: Some actually don’t even bother recording their own lines, and opt to let the guitarist do it for them. In that sense, they’re kind of like cats. But honestly, they really don’t deserve all the crap they get. Without them, most breakdowns would feel like a punch to the face from Mike Tyson… without his hands. Or a pre-mature ejaculation. Not quite as euphoric, huh?
Yes, we get it, you like to hit stuff really hard. Despite the caveman demeanor of a drummer slouched behind his kit, sticks in hand like a predator moving in for the kill, these men remain a mind boggling riddle to the universe. A normal human being can sometimes struggle to use his brain for ONE simple task, but these Herculean beings somehow manage to coordinate hands and feet to create the entire rhythmic backbone of the band. Their skills are so impressive that history has decided to banish them to the back of the stage, where they will rot, forgotten, until the end of time. Because of this, they’re also the last person a fan will ask to take a picture with. There is no real natural habitat for a drummer. Like a virus, they thrive in any environment so long as they can tap their feet, or slap their knees. There are two things that could be reproached about these guys though. They take up so much space that you end up feeling like you’re stuck in a sleeping bag with an oily sumo wrestler. There’s also no volume knob to make them stop when you’re trying to talk. Look forward to being interrupted a lot. Just avoid the drumsticks when they come flying at you. These guys are secretly a bunch of really lazy bastards. Why do you think they chose to play an instrument that requires them to sit all the fucking time? Exactly.
PS: We do NOT need MORE cowbell.
There you have it, folks. Now, you know exactly who you are, and what you’re supposed to do with yourself. Choose your faction carefully, because once you do there is definitely no going back. Stereotypes are for life, idiot. Besides, why would anyone want to learn more than one instrument? That’s just so confusing. Don’t be that “L” no one knows what the heck to do with. Don’t do it. I’m serious. Just don’t. Stick to one thing, and find other people who want to do the other things, and together do one big messy thing. Disclaimer: Big dysfunctional relationship guaranteed and more adventures than catching Pokémon while falling off a cliff.
Good luck, and until next time.
Nabil – The Red Zone