I will not name names and I will not reference professions. Just so we have that clear I will now launch into a most disconcerting experience. You know that saying "with friends like these, who needs enemies?" Well, my God. With friends like these who needs enemies indeed.
Last Saturday I played the first gig I've played in 5 years. I have picked up my guitar and played here and there. Mostly to my TV during boring shows. But in public, not so much. Once upon a time I had a regular Sunday night show at a local restaurant. That ended and the restaurant changed hands. Surprisingly, after the possession change the restaurant became popular and is now one of those Hollywood hotspots on Saturday and Sunday mornings. But I digress... Back to last Saturday.
Remember this: I haven't played in public for five years.
So I got this gig through a guy on myspace who found my page and asked me if I'd like to do 30 minutes in an acoustic showcase. I said yes, of course, because why own a $3000 guitar if you're not going to play it. I sent out my cards I cajoled my friends I invited two girls my parents met in Aspen white water rafting. In all I must have hit somewhere in the range of 1200 people - I have access to a very large e-mail database. Many of these people I haven't spoken in a long time. One in particular is a pretty big man on campus in his chosen profession, very good at what he does. He called me 20 minutes before I went on stage and told me he'd be there. He was actually one of the last I expected to show, but, hey, great! I like him he's a good guy and I'd love to get his opinion on the music.
So I thought.
Well, I introduced him to an ex, got distracted and then I was up! He sat in the front, next to the girl and even bought her a drink. My other friends (numbering in the 20s or so) were all surrounding me and were listening with rapt attention. I played my heart out. Some told me it was the best I played and the best I sounded. Two friends were speechless and one went so far to say "I knew you were good, but I didn't know you were that good." A returned compliment that I had given her.
But where was the "friend" in question when it was all over? I saw him get up at some point between the last two songs. Oh well, I didn't really think about it. The thought came back a little while later so I called and left him a message. "Hey, I missed you, hope you liked it, give me a call."
OK, I'm going to take a moment here to state something I don't normally put down in writing or say out loud: I was very good that night. Probably the best I've been in a while. I rehearsed and it paid off.
Well, I went out and got drunk with my friends, had some sushi and went home very satisfied with the night. In all, very successful.
The next day I went about my business, did laundry, fixed another friends computer and even had a voice over audition. At that audition I got a message from said "friend." "Hey, I was there. I had to leave. I'll tell you why. I just had to. If you want, give me a call." Or something like that. So when I got out of the audition I called. And well, what followed was rather unexpected.
He answered the phone "What do you want?"
"It's Adam. I'm returning your call."
"Fine, I'm hung over and I have to go to the circus today." it was 2:30pm.
"Well, that sounds like fun." Sarcasm, see?
"You're probably going to tell me to go fuck myself, but..." and the rest was 15 minutes of virulent, suppressive, bile-laden verbal berating unlike any I have ever experienced. I was told I was over rehearsed and it was offensive to the audience. I was told that he was so angry watching me play that he wanted to get up and throttle me. I was told I should just play the songs and not fuck them up by performing them for other people. "Just play the songs" was repeated over and over throughout the diatribe. It was asked of me "who the fuck do you think you are?" Because I'm no Rolling Stones or other band that is of quality. Then, and this is the kicker, he brought up a one man show I did last year. At the end of the show I did a question and answer session. "Who the fuck do you think you are? The show was the most pretentious piece of shit I've ever seen. I mean what the fuck was with the Q & A? Who do you think you are? DiNiro? You're not that good and you’ll probably never be." Or something like that.
"Friend." Right?
I asked him why he didn't tell me about the show before. He didn't really have an answer.
So, in the end I was left with that. A successful big wig in his chosen profession mercilessly tore me apart for no other reason than he could. As I see it, the vehemence with which he went after me was fueled by the year of not saying what he wanted to say, but regardless of unspoken communications, this guy is so wrong it isn't funny. So wrong. Did I mention he's an alcoholic, drug addict who dates married women and wonders why he's miserable all the time? No wonder I got the short straw with him. I was being brought down to his level of mediocrity so that he could live one more day in a world that has no light and no enthusiasm. A world beset by war and violence where most people are looking or how they can capitalize on it as opposed to end it. He's a very unhappy individual. We'll leave it at that.
I wish him no ill, just that he wakes up one day and desires to change his state. Do I think it will happen? No. But that doesn't stop me for wishing it on him.
Now, please don't mistake that last statement for altruism. I hope he finds all that, but only right before he gets hit by a bus.
With friends like these, indeed.