|
|
Dalton
Roberts |
|
|
|
Hunter Thompson said,
“The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long
plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free and good men die like
dogs. There’s also a negative side.” If the music business
is this bad, why do I go into schools, demonstrate string instruments
and encourage kids to take up music? I am not sure. Some nights I lie in
bed and wonder about that. Someone recently sent
me a couple of pages of musician jokes. They certainly show why I have
trepidations over steering youngsters into music. Here are a few: Q: What do you call a
musician without a girlfriend? A: Homeless Q: What do you do if
you see a bleeding drummer running around in your back yard? A: Stop laughing and
shoot again. Q: How do you get a
trombonist off your porch? A: Pay him for the
pizza. Q: What do you call a
musician with a degree? A: Night manager at
McDonalds. Q: What’s the
difference between a banjo and an onion? A: Nobody cries when
you chop up a banjo. Q: What’s the
difference between a folk guitar player and a large pizza? A: A large pizza can
feed a family of four. Q: What’s the
difference between a Scud missile and a bad oboist? A: A bad oboist can
kill you. Q: What’s the
difference between an opera singer and a pit bull? A: Lipstick Al H
Yes, there is a tinge
of truth in all these jokes and in the lyric to my song. A musician gets
gut-punched more often than a prizefighter. The build-ups are rare and
the letdowns that usually follow are severe. I remember when Jimmy
Harris, one of Chattanooga’s best entertainers, experienced one of
those letdowns. One time I talked my way into the office of Kelso
Herston, headman at ABC Records. When I told him I was from Chattanooga,
he asked, “Do you know Jimmy Harris?” and I told him I knew him
well. He said, “I am going to sign him.” I was thrilled for Jimmy
but a few days later Herston was fired and his replacement never signed
Jimmy. Some say the best song I’ve written is “You Sure Do Get Around” and I was ecstatic when Stu Phillips recorded it. He was coming off a big hit and I had visions of sugarplums and Porches dancing in my head. Next thing I knew Stu left the music business and went to seminary to become an Episcopal priest. It made me feel quite unreligious for a while. My song is still buried in a Capitol vault somewhere in Nashville. I wrote a theme song
for an NBC show called “Saturday Night on NBC,” a variety country
music show. Three pilots were filmed and no sponsor picked it up. If it
had become a regular show, I would have made $400 a week in royalties as
long as it was going. Kraft almost picked it up and when they didn’t,
I didn’t eat any Kraft cheese for a year. Then my Velveeta weakness
kicked back in. My reason for sticking
with music is what Emerson said about our callings being in our talents.
When you are phobic about doing something from the time you are a small
child and sit at your uncle’s feet spellbound every time he gets his
guitar out, you might as well do it. You are never going to be happy if
you don’t. Another reason is the
incredible thrill of hearing some star do one of your songs. My last
royalty statement had a $153 listing for a video. I had no idea the
Lewis Family put my song, “His Amazing Grace,” on their “Home
Sweet Home With Family and Friends” DVD and VCR (www.thelewisfamilymusic.com).
What a thrill! The biggest reason of
all is just the pure joy of making your music your way. It makes life in
“the cruel and hollow money trench” worth it all. Check out www.daltonroberts.com and www.ipsfeatures.com
|
