Most of what follows, unfortunately, happens.
Venue: Our life.
Crowd: These idiots.
Musicians learn two new languages when they join a band. The first is an entirely eyebrow based version of semaphore. You can comminute even the most intricate forms of disgust and/or pleasure with the hair above your eyes.
The second is subtext. Musicians don’t say what they mean. We’re an emotional bunch and prone to rage, as such, it’s best to never to be honest. Should you ever meet a musician, or worse still, become one, I’ve translated some common phrases.
Feel free to contact us with some of your own.
MUSICIAN: What time are we playing?
TRANSLATION: What is the latest possible time I can turn up without you getting mad?
MUSICIAN: Are we headlining the show?
TRANSLATION: Are you gonna make me stay to the end?
MUSICIAN: Are we practising Tuesday?
TRANSLATION: I have a better offer for Tuesday.
GUITARIST: Am I too loud?
TRANSLATION: Can I be louder?
GUITARIST: I’m not sure about the middle section.
TRANSLATION: Can I have a solo?
GUITARIST: Or the outro.
TRANSLATION: Can I have another solo?
DRUMMER: Do I need bring my kit?
TRANSLATION: I’m not bringing my kit.
DRUMMER: Can you give me a hand with my stuff?
TRANSLATION: Can you give me both your hands, your back and maybe your neck too? Also, I hope you didn’t skip leg day because I parked in the next town over.
DRUMMER: Don’t worry, I’ve been practising at home.
TRANSLATION: My spare kit is in the loft and hasn’t been played since trumpets in punk was a thing.
BASSIST: What are the notes?
TRANSLATION: Seriously, what are the notes?
Thanks for reading. See you next week. [TRANSLATION: I hope]
Photo by David Whelan via Flickr