by Jesse Davidson
After a night of turning up at Red Robin, we had a bit of a late start to our Saturday. So late we didn’t end up eating breakfast till about 11am. Due to our late start, we encountered another NAMM tradition of braving the Saturday crowd. Understandably everyone and their mother will be turning out to the convention hall on the weekend. If you think you have seen a crowd on Friday, you’d be mistaken. We discovered this when we arrived at the Anaheim Gardenwalk parking lot and had to fight for a spot. Cuss words and horn honks flying everywhere. If you want to see what society breaking down looks like on a small scale with no serious repercussions, make people battle for parking spaces. After arriving at the Gardenwalk at 1:00, we finally made it to the Convention Center at 1:55.
Over the next day and a half, I wondered around the convention center. Strange moments kept happening repeatedly. One that stood out vividly occurred while waiting in line to see Shavo Odadjian of System of a Down. They’ve always been one of my favorite bands and didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to meet this member of the group. While waiting in line for Shavo, Al Jourgensen of Ministry was finishing a signing. I recognized him not just for who he is but my brief interaction with him the previous day. Due to the traffic in the main walkways, especially on Friday and Saturday, my friends and I decided to walk off the beaten path on walkways slightly less traveled on our way to Hall A; the Pro Audio section. As we made our way, we hit a lull in the wave of people exploring the convention. For a split second, no one was around us and it was quiet at our little four-way intersection. Then from the left, a man wearing all black covered in tattoos and piercings was leaning on and being guided his friends also all clad in black. As we walked straight toward pro-audio, we stopped for the posse in black. The man being propped up by his friend spits in my general direction but not directly at me. In his state at that moment, I’m not sure if he even noticed I was there. Immediately following his goth-loogie, unintelligible jabber spewed out of his mouth followed by what sounded like a long, “NOOOOOOOOO!” tagged on the end of it. Some of his friends laughed while one guided the group out of the convention.
It was only when he was laughing and drinking at the signing the next day that my hunch was confirmed it was him. As he was finishing up, he took a stack of promo pictures and heaved it at a small crowd talking a few feet in front of him. They stopped conversing and turned toward Al. The one that captured my attention was an attractive woman who looked most distraught by the heaving. “Ummm….okay” she says with a semi-frightened look on her face. Al cheers and was helped out by the man in charge of all the shows and appearances at the booth. My writing about Al’s actions might be considered gossip like. Until he threw a stack of pictures at a group of people in a crowded convention center, that may have been the case. However, it is not gossip, it’s the truth. I have nothing disparaging or positive to say about Mr. Jourgensen or his music. He is just another person to me so he’s subject to the truth as anyone is. A friend and mentor of mine once said that he believed in the freedom of rock n’ roll. For example, if you want to get fucked up, get fucked up. However, be prepared to accept and deal with the consequences. I’m paraphrasing but essentially it means, be free but be prepared to pay for it. I think many people have used rock n’ roll, jazz, or any other art form as an excuse to destroy themselves. I’m not sure if Mr. Jourgensen is taking that approach. All I know is what I experienced. Whether or not it is “cool” is all a matter of taste. After he left, Shavo came by and seemed like a humble and gracious dude. Throughout the day, I ran into friends of mine and met some cool new people. My interactions with these various individuals allowed me to really reflect on what all this NAMM business meant.
Day 4 or Sunday was the best day to do some reflecting, as it is the slowest day of the convention. The aisles are almost empty. Everyone can finally take a collective breath before either traveling home or packing up. During my walking around and reflecting at NAMM, I stumbled Etienne Mbappe, a session bass player. He was playing some jazz sounding stuff with another bassist. While getting down, someone who I can only assume was Mitch McConnell’s ugly cousin, was standing by the booth. He had a NAMM staff badge on and a decibel meter in his hand. His job was to make sure people like Etienne aren’t too loud, also known as the “sound cops”. I wish you, the reader, could have seen what I saw because this was the most un-musical man I’ve ever seen or felt in my presence. If Elvis were alive and preforming at NAMM, his hip shaking would still offend him. Thankfully, he moved on. I did the same shortly thereafter. My next plan of attack was to score as much free crap as I could before we left. I needed to experience the convention from as many angles as possible and this was definitely one of them. I was not alone in this pursuit as many companies had bowls of guitar picks, lanyards, jellybeans, calendars, wristbands, stickers, and occasionally free t-shirts if asked for nicely. In between grabbing free swag, bassist Darryl Williams gave me some playing advice and tips after asking him a few questions on his technique. Around 2pm, my friends and I grabbed lunch at the White Rabbit: Filipino Fusion food truck and proceeded to exit the convention.
Maybe it was eating burrito filled with fried pork and egg while soul music filled the courtyard that made me think. Or it could have been a burrito filled with soul music while fried pork filled the air. They were about as equally great and interchangeable at that moment. As my senses became consumed in food and music, it hit me that I did everything I wanted to do at NAMM. I met musicians I’ve always wanted to meet, heard bass players I really enjoy and got to ask some of them about they’re technique, met and networked with people I didn’t know, met up with friends and colleagues of mine, had drinks with these friends and colleagues, managed to score some cool swag, and eat some delicious food. Ultimately, my goal was to have a great time and I did that. I truly had an unforgettable experience. But that isn’t enough. Something greater hit me as I left the convention. It will never be enough. There are many people that go for the experience. To dress up, party, and look like rock-stars. To show off in hopes of getting an endorsement deal. On the opposite end of the spectrum, there are people who are some of the greatest musicians in the world walking right next to you and you don’t even know it. They walk in plain sight living behind a veil of knowledge. Propelled by their own confidence, they approach they world with a quiet cool all because they know. By the same token, they realize that they still don’t know or don’t know enough. Once you realize this, it’s humbling to say the least. So a fun weekend is never enough. One weekend full of experience is never enough. It takes a lifetime of weekends.
It’s work. That’s the bottom line.
It’s work.
And I need to get to it.