“And it’s hard and it’s hard, ain’t it hard?”---Woody Guthrie
You remember Fitzcarraldo, the West German epic adventure film in which an opera-loving Irishman residing in Peru set about to haul a steamship over a mountain intact. That’s right, a steamship, not a kayak. Not only was there the staggering attempt to manually drag a 320-ton steamship up the steep grade, but the film’s original star Jason Robards became sick halfway through the filming and director Werner Herzog was forced to hire Klaus Kinski, with whom he had clashed violently during the production of earlier movies. The battles between the two were so difficult that the chief of the Machiguenga tribe, who were used extensively as extras, asked Herzog late in the filming if they should kill Kinski for him. Fortunately for Klaus, Herzog declined. The good new is that after great struggles, the crew successfully pulled the ship over the mountain using a complex system of pulleys. I can think of no better comparison than this to the construction of the Hogtown Opry. The biggest difference being the ship is not yet pulled over the mountain.
The original cast of five which met many months ago to discuss the project eventually scattered to the four winds for various reasons. There were no villains here, just health considerations, differences of opinion and a fear in some quarters that the earth would open up and swallow us whole. So, like Herzog, I brought Klaus Kinski aboard to help drag the ship up the hill. He’s now going by the name ‘Jeff Goldstein’. The chief of the Machiguengas has not offered to kill him for me yet but he’s shaking his head a lot. Jeff is like one of those guys you see on Interstate 5 just north of San Diego, weaving in and out of traffic at eighty miles an hour, then cutting across six lanes to make his exit. He doesn’t care where you’re going, he just knows where he’s headed. Goldstein is the ultimate grunt, he takes to his work like a badger on amphetamines---decisive, determined, impatient, pushy, outspoken, self-reliant and driven. You might not want him marrying your daughter but he knows how to help get the steamship up the hill and how to avoid being murdered by opry-loving Irishmen.
Countering Anonymity
The trouble with opening a new business that depends on a lot of customers showing up from day one is that pre-opening none of those people know who, what, where or why you are. In days of yore, this was no problem---you merely placed an ad in your friendly neighborhood newspaper or on Wil Thacker’s radio show and the folks came a-runnin’. These days, however, your newspaper has gone the way of the Studebaker and Thacker is wrapping up his 16th Farewell Tour in the snakepits of Bradford County. Where does a pilgrim turn for sustenance?
Dave Melosh, the Music Man, swears by social media, and he should know. But he has roughly 8000 more disciples on his call list than we do. We thought about having a Hogtown Opry blimp, but have you checked zeppelin prices lately? Does anybody remember those little planes that flew over Florida Field during football games, pulling banners which read Please Go Gators? They’re kaput, out of business, solid gone. We thought about getting some attention with a calendar of nude Gainesville women over 60 but when we brought it up they all ran away except for Gina Hawkins, who said she was only good for three months. Maybe we’ll stand on the corner of University Avenue and NW 13th Street waving signs like the politicos do on election day. Maybe we’ll hire Steve Spurrier to ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross. Maybe Lady Godiva won’t be busy on May 20. Where have all the town criers gone, long time passing?
“My Kingdom For A Band!”
That’s about what it takes, especially if you’re the new girl in town. The pirate crew of The Flying Dutchman, now masquerading as booking agents, will steal your money, then your clothes, with inflated fees and backroom deals with band reps. We made an offer to one group regularly drawing crowds of 300-350 and they sent back a ransom demand for $22,000. At an average ticket sale of $50, a venue would need twice the number of customers that band was pulling in just to pay the headliner, let alone the other concert expenses. One possible alternative is to book lesser known entertainers of high quality and try to get a reputation for great shows. Hopefully, you can hang around long enough for the word to get out.
Some places do very well booking bands like Pure Prairie League, which are pretenders to glory. Not a single member of the current PPL group played with the original band. How is that any better than a glorified cover band, how is it not a minor fraud? If I get a bunch of tall Black kids together and call them the Harlem Globetrotters, what happens when they get beat by the Washington Generals or the champions of the High Springs Boys Club League? I’ll be run out of town on a rail, and rightly so. As for actual cover bands, there’s nothing really wrong with them. Many sell beaucoup tickets and amuse their crowds. It’s just not our style, we’re looking for something more here, especially featured artists who create some of their own music. Whether we’re successful or not largely depends on our ability to make our presence known and to present great shows which get our audiences talking. In the end, positive word of mouth is always the greatest salesman. By the way, where is Mike Garcia with Texas Tom and his Slick Pickers when you really need them?
It seemed like a good idea at the time. Form a house band with local players to open each show, develop a broad repertoire, inject some surprises and build on it until that band is good enough to be a feature act of its own. God knows plenty of homeboys need a little cash boost now and then and we have a ton of musicians in the area. Trouble is, that only works if you’re on every week or two. One gig every three weeks isn’t enough to hold a band together. We tried, and potential old pickers kept falling victim to the palsy and winding up in the hospital, or worse. An alternative, of course, is to find bands already organized and hire them to open. That’s fine if you’re in Nashville or Austin or Bogalusa, where country bands are a dime a dozen. Gainesville is Rock Central, where seldom is heard a yodeling word and the bunkhouse is empty all day. We’re not giving up, though, and maybe the advent of an Opry in Gainesville will bring the banjos out of the boondocks. Maybe we should foster a Little League of country music players, similar to what baseball does. Start ‘em out at 8 years old and watch them grow into Flatt & Scruggs. If we’d started earlier, Nancy Luca might have been the next Merle Haggard. Or at least Minnie Pearl.
Over the course of two years of dealing with concert production and local music-makers, here are a few things we’ve learned.
1. Musicians are mostly bad businessmen with good souls.
2. A bandleader would rather have his or her eyes scratched out by wolverines than change one song on his setlist.
3. The wives of musicians are the power behind the throne.
4. There is a group of about 150 music devotees in Gainesville who will attend at least one performance a week even if they have to walk barefoot over hot coals to do it. Unfortunately, there are rarely 250.
5. Nancy Kay, on the other hand, will only attend if a concert is held within a half-mile of her house and she is delivered by pedicab.
6. Randall Roffe is making a musical movie called Micanopy Madness, for which thespians Bill Killeen and Will Thacker will be paid $750 an hour. Filming starts when the checks arrive.
7. Dave Melosh of Heartwood is really two different people, by day a goodhearted venue operator, by night a bank robber who seeks out victims in order to finance his blood lust.
8. It is more difficult to hire Molly Tuttle than to pass an elephant through the eye of a needle.
9. Gina Hawkins is recording everything we do for her expose novel, so watch it.
10. Paco Paco has made it acceptable to have two similar names, thus the arrival of Will Will Thacker, Bill Bill Killeen and Bang Bang Goldstein. Sorry, Woof Woof Kirkpatrick, that one is taken.
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| Louisa |
Once More, Into The Breach!
Fourscore and seven weeks ago, our founders brought forth on this continent a new Opry, conceived in Country & Western and dedicated to the proposition that all music will be heard in Gainesville.
Now we are engaged in a great fiscal and artistic struggle, testing whether that Opry or any opry so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great turning point of that struggle. The first battles will propel us forward or thrust us back, set us on course for a bright and productive future or force us through bogs of quicksand. We are either fools or prophets, the future is the final arbiter. People applaud the latter and scourge the former, say they knew it all the time when the ultimate answer is provided. Meanwhile, Louisa Branscomb, a thoughtful, analytic observer calls us “visionaries.” The pressure cranks up. Nobody wants to make a liar out of Louisa.
That’s all, folks….
bill.killeen094@gmail.com
