Ok, so I last wrote something on here back in June. Being truthful, I forgot the login. And then blogged somewhere else for a bit. And then just thought, 'what have I possibly got to say that needs more than 140 characters to explain, anyway?' Let's not even go into the guy who asked me for a contribution to his site back in, ooh, May. Sorry Paul.
Anyway, last week I went on a blind date. I've never done anything like that before, or maybe if I did I got so hammered and made such an idiot of myself I've forgotten the whole sorry occasion. Anyway, this time it was a bloke who answered an ad I'd put on the internet. I guess I'm just not that choosy anymore.
OK, I'll come clean, it wasn't that kind of date - he was a musician looking for someone to 'do stuff' with, and he'd seen my ad on an internet forum. There's actually many similarites with 'real' internet dating, funnily enough - in fact, there's a lot to be learnt from band ads. The same cliches crop up repeatedly as you'd expect, though I'd love to see the denizens of Guardian Soulmates adopting some of the no-nonsense demands made by musos - 'absolutely no timewasters', 'commitment required for a minimum of 6 months' and 'own transport essential'. I guess I'd add 'If I suggest you get in a cold van alone with me and drive to Leeds in mid-December, you will agree'.
Like the people I know who've tried internet dating, I found myself saying things like "I don't normally meet people like this, I just thought I'd give it a go" - and anyway, even if I found myself locked in a windowless rehearsal room in 2 months' time with a 5-string fretless bass player called Pendar, it's the sort of story I'd probably find myself recounting in a pub to other musos at some point. Usually during one of those inevitable times you're hanging around the back of some dive in Leicester waiting to go and perform to 9 people on a Sunday night. Nothing to lose, then. Pendar will never text me at 5am asking who that other bass player he saw me with was, either. Well... I say that now.
I look around a bunch of forums and start writing an ad. I soon realise there's a great deal of second-guessing involved. Keeping it simple and mentioning something 'everyman' like AC/DC is going to attract Kasabian fans, and they will answer any ad mentioning a band they've heard of. This won't do. On the other hand if I try and out-cool everyone with Someone-You've-Never-Heard-Of : 'The Early Stuff', I'm going to attract the guys that actually own that stuff. You don't want to be in a band with them - they've just wasted half their life tracking down Spooky Tooth rarities, so simply having a conversation - let alone playing an instrument, can be a challenge for them. Plus they'll probably look like Gollum. Plus - well, I've just described myself anyway, and opposites supposedly attact.
I'm going to have to write an ad that makes me sound like a lunatic, albeit an approachable one. Like a Soulmates ad that reads 'GSOH, likes walking lonely moors, hates children + swans, loves Neitzsche, Happy Gilmore, Medieval battle re-enactments, screaming myself to sleep'. I write what I believe to be the musical equivalent of this, hit 'submit' and wait.
An hour later I've got a reply. 'Yes, I'm that much of a hot ticket', I think to myself. It's from a bloke. Let's call him John, in case this mirrors actual 'dating' to the extent that he's already Googled me and is avidly clicking 'refresh' on here awaiting new insight. Hmm, right.
John lives in Woking. He wants to 'collaborate together on an exciting post-rock project'. He sends me an MP3. It's not an exciting post-rock project. It sounds like John, at home, grappling with Garageband. Actually, it sounds more like John, at home, grappling with a complete stranger using a snare drum as a weapon. I actually delete his MP3 as iTunes seems to select it often and it scares the life out of me. He's in London a lot, apparently, so it could work out well. 'John', I write, 'I just don't see it working out between us. I'm rarely (never) in Woking and anyway, the mere thought of meeting you unaccompanied goes against everything I've heard about meeting people from the internet'. Actually, I don't write this at all, I just delete the email and go and wash my hands.
Next up is 'Paul'. He lives in London, GSOH, looking for fun and maybe more, likes going out and socialising, is pet-tolerant and has loved and lost enough to know a keeper when he sees one. I'm paraphrasing slightly, that's the gist anyway. We arrange to meet. Paul suggests a pub in Islington. Already I'm judging him. Last time I played with a band we'd drink in Crobar, The Wilmington, The Mucky Pup - crappy 'band' places - you've disappointed me, I think. Regardless, I agree to the gastropub he suggests, remembering to always meet in a public place and have a get-out excuse - and of course, no matter what, not to get into any vehicle alone with him.
I turn up in a top hat and eyepatch, as is the custom, and nervously stare through the throng, hopefully looking for Steve West out of Pavement or maybe that guy from Rocket from the Crypt who didn't actually do anything, he just danced a lot. I buy a drink - suddenly, a bloke catches my eye, walks over and motions me towards his empty table. I nervously explain that I've no idea what I'm doing with a pina colada, I just thought he'd be impressed.
[to be continued...]
Anyway, last week I went on a blind date. I've never done anything like that before, or maybe if I did I got so hammered and made such an idiot of myself I've forgotten the whole sorry occasion. Anyway, this time it was a bloke who answered an ad I'd put on the internet. I guess I'm just not that choosy anymore.
OK, I'll come clean, it wasn't that kind of date - he was a musician looking for someone to 'do stuff' with, and he'd seen my ad on an internet forum. There's actually many similarites with 'real' internet dating, funnily enough - in fact, there's a lot to be learnt from band ads. The same cliches crop up repeatedly as you'd expect, though I'd love to see the denizens of Guardian Soulmates adopting some of the no-nonsense demands made by musos - 'absolutely no timewasters', 'commitment required for a minimum of 6 months' and 'own transport essential'. I guess I'd add 'If I suggest you get in a cold van alone with me and drive to Leeds in mid-December, you will agree'.
Like the people I know who've tried internet dating, I found myself saying things like "I don't normally meet people like this, I just thought I'd give it a go" - and anyway, even if I found myself locked in a windowless rehearsal room in 2 months' time with a 5-string fretless bass player called Pendar, it's the sort of story I'd probably find myself recounting in a pub to other musos at some point. Usually during one of those inevitable times you're hanging around the back of some dive in Leicester waiting to go and perform to 9 people on a Sunday night. Nothing to lose, then. Pendar will never text me at 5am asking who that other bass player he saw me with was, either. Well... I say that now.
I look around a bunch of forums and start writing an ad. I soon realise there's a great deal of second-guessing involved. Keeping it simple and mentioning something 'everyman' like AC/DC is going to attract Kasabian fans, and they will answer any ad mentioning a band they've heard of. This won't do. On the other hand if I try and out-cool everyone with Someone-You've-Never-Heard-Of : 'The Early Stuff', I'm going to attract the guys that actually own that stuff. You don't want to be in a band with them - they've just wasted half their life tracking down Spooky Tooth rarities, so simply having a conversation - let alone playing an instrument, can be a challenge for them. Plus they'll probably look like Gollum. Plus - well, I've just described myself anyway, and opposites supposedly attact.
I'm going to have to write an ad that makes me sound like a lunatic, albeit an approachable one. Like a Soulmates ad that reads 'GSOH, likes walking lonely moors, hates children + swans, loves Neitzsche, Happy Gilmore, Medieval battle re-enactments, screaming myself to sleep'. I write what I believe to be the musical equivalent of this, hit 'submit' and wait.
An hour later I've got a reply. 'Yes, I'm that much of a hot ticket', I think to myself. It's from a bloke. Let's call him John, in case this mirrors actual 'dating' to the extent that he's already Googled me and is avidly clicking 'refresh' on here awaiting new insight. Hmm, right.
John lives in Woking. He wants to 'collaborate together on an exciting post-rock project'. He sends me an MP3. It's not an exciting post-rock project. It sounds like John, at home, grappling with Garageband. Actually, it sounds more like John, at home, grappling with a complete stranger using a snare drum as a weapon. I actually delete his MP3 as iTunes seems to select it often and it scares the life out of me. He's in London a lot, apparently, so it could work out well. 'John', I write, 'I just don't see it working out between us. I'm rarely (never) in Woking and anyway, the mere thought of meeting you unaccompanied goes against everything I've heard about meeting people from the internet'. Actually, I don't write this at all, I just delete the email and go and wash my hands.
Next up is 'Paul'. He lives in London, GSOH, looking for fun and maybe more, likes going out and socialising, is pet-tolerant and has loved and lost enough to know a keeper when he sees one. I'm paraphrasing slightly, that's the gist anyway. We arrange to meet. Paul suggests a pub in Islington. Already I'm judging him. Last time I played with a band we'd drink in Crobar, The Wilmington, The Mucky Pup - crappy 'band' places - you've disappointed me, I think. Regardless, I agree to the gastropub he suggests, remembering to always meet in a public place and have a get-out excuse - and of course, no matter what, not to get into any vehicle alone with him.
I turn up in a top hat and eyepatch, as is the custom, and nervously stare through the throng, hopefully looking for Steve West out of Pavement or maybe that guy from Rocket from the Crypt who didn't actually do anything, he just danced a lot. I buy a drink - suddenly, a bloke catches my eye, walks over and motions me towards his empty table. I nervously explain that I've no idea what I'm doing with a pina colada, I just thought he'd be impressed.
[to be continued...]
MORE PLEASE NOW PLEASE.
ReplyDeleteUm where did part two go?
ReplyDeleteComing in 2012.
ReplyDelete