The Professional

I've made no small habit out of calling myself a professional. Indeed, that's what I assumed I was. Not in any NFL Judas Priest sense of course, but I figured I met the minimum criteria. I created a product to be sold, and have in fact, sold some of it. Not much, of course. Certainly not enough to buy me those diamond encrusted condoms and Maserati's I've so sorely wanted, but money has been traded for goods in this scenario.

And that is the letter definition as far as I'm concerned. I've been paid to play. My craft has been rewarded by the praises of others. So I felt it only right to be talking as such.

In a way, I guess I wanted to be regarded as a professional too. Hell, who wouldn't want to be acknowledged for having some moves? To hear your name attached to the sentence, "That guy knows some shit?" It's a brilliant thing in my world. Just to know what you have to say about the field you're in is respected, would be enough.

But, try as I might, I'm probably no professional I'm no road warrior, no hired gun that gets called in to do the tough gigs and save the day. Most of my musical career, has involved me writing for myself. Sitting alone, getting comfortable, and creating something that sounds, reads, or looks good. I've tampered with sound for a long time. Thirteen years at least. My grizzled old paws have taken much abuse from a lack of stretching, the youthful optimism in attempting .011 gauge guitar strings, and all around careless musical behavior. These hands no longer know how to rest properly anymore. Leaving my hand at my side, resembles a man having a seizure more than someone who knows how to relax. I've gotten some decent ears too. I can spot a certain effect, chord, or when someone is out of tune without too much effort these days. Aren't these the traits, the highly cultivated skills of a professional?

Probably not.

Yeah, left to my own devices I can make things sound good, but things just don't work that way. Not sure anyone would actually want to pay me money to make myself sound good. Most days the people who can print out the paychecks want you making them sound good. When John Mayer wants you to play the root notes while he sings that new song that compares women to food, you play the fucking roots. And if Kate Voegele's sonic team want you doing her remix, you better damn well know how to use Logic and Pro Tools, otherwise your primitive ass isn't going anywhere near their bread n' butter.

Some days, it truly feels like I've cheated myself. I've made remarks to the contrary, but in low times, it would be of some comfort to know you're at least kind of marketable.

If it all disappeared tomorregaow, I would have nothing. I wouldn't be rrded as a professional by my more well paid brethren. I'm not even sure I'd be regarded as being capable. Just some punk kid who knows a few chords and can make some noise. Could I learn Pro Tools and figure out how to use the industry standards? Easily. But who wants to pay some stubborn mule to figure these things out when they could hire a yes man who already knows this shit? It's proper business, I can't even hate on it much as I'd like to.

I never bothered to learn how to read music. I've done everything in my life by ear, and have been completely happy doing so. But there's no way in hell a studio would call in a mercenary like me who's gonna need three or four takes before he can even play right. Time is money baby, and ignorant swine need to keep up, or step down.

Hell, if I was really really lucky, I might get one of those sweet gigs as a live performer in a backup band for any number of the people I hate. I'm sure Britney Spears or Celine Dion would love to have me in the background, so long as I smile constantly and sway with them on the rare occasions they feel up to gracing me with their presence on stage.

Most likely I would just disappear.

Vanish from the sonic underbelly and join the regular folks, hoping to god that no one ever speaks of the dismal failure that was the Boogie Man's BGO. Anytime anyone says "You look familiar," I say "Yeah, I get that a lot," and pray that it's left at that.

I'm a big talking guy, but I'm not sure I have any reason to be. I haven't done anything respectable. Yeah, I made a body of work on my own terms, but is that enough? In this day and age, is the boundary of the finished product really stopping anyone anymore?

I don't know. Much as I'd like the folks who know me and the bunches that don't to acknowledge me as a pro, the truth is I'm probably still a child wandering through the big boy's world.