Daily Archives: August 17, 2009

In the heat of rehearsal





“Please don’t use the depth-charge pizzicato.”
“Pianissimo doesn’t mean ‘Drop the f–k out.'”
“Listen to the tune, and then accompany it in a non-disgraceful fashion.”
“Let’s see if you can pizzicato together in a non-banjo-like way.”
“It’s very hard to raise money for something that sounds like this does.”
“You know, there’s a fine line between artistry and shit. Not that what you’re doing is shit, but it’s close to it.”
“Imagine you’re getting enough money for what you do.”
“Not so bright. It sounds like ‘Orpheus in His Underwear.'”
“Play short, especially if you don’t know where you are.”
“That was a drive-by viola solo.”
“Horns, imagine that you’ve had a really ugly breakfast and it’s about to come up.”
“There is a lot of fishing for notes. I wish you would catch them.”
“Strings, I know what you’re thinking: ‘With all this racket going on, why am I playing?’ Well, there’s no time for existential questions right now.”
“This must be much more agitated. Think of someone you hate. Think of your mother-in-law.”
“The place where you will be shot if you come in early is the bar before 26.”
“Now forget all the nasty things I said and play naturally.”
“You’re all wondering what speed it’s going to go. Well, so am I.”
“Play as if you were musicians.”


For around $250, I’ll have this whole sad, sloppy, sordid saga behind me.  My car is now at the shop, where by this evening a new window will be installed.

I cleaned all the glass yesterday afternoon, and then vacuumed and vacuumed, taking the glass-pebble-filled bag to the dumpster after I was finished.

Lessons learned:

  1. leave nothing in sight in the car
  2. park in the garage at home, even if it is inconvenient
  3. understand that living in the city implies a certain threat, so don’t tempt the threators.

I’m now sleeping at night with the Brinks security system armed and active.  Samson is happy, since he’s now not required to be vigilant.