As working technicians who do shows night after night, we often become inured to the varied performances that take place on a given stage and, though we can still distinguish the difference between a good and bad concert presentation, our perception of a quality event relies less upon the actual show itself and more upon the excellence — or lack of — the production technicalities.
On a Good Day
My priorities are from a production perspective, so my response to inquiries regarding the quality of any given show has become, “We were on schedule, the band played, we all got paid, no one died and we all went back to our place of residence.” This, to me, defines a “good show.” Granted, my response for what I consider to be a good show is a bit glib, but considering all the ways a production can go wrong in any given 12- to 16-hour day, it seems a fitting description.
I’ve been on gigs where the power has failed and others where high winds kept the PA stacks from being flown. I’ve seen concerts come to an abrupt end when high winds blew over the P.A. scaffolding and when the FOH console ended up sitting in six inches of water. I have been witness to people fainting during a concert due to poor ventilation, and I have also seen all sorts of on-the-job injuries incurred by technicians, including cuts, sprains, dislocations, broken digits, fractured limbs and concussions, to name a few. From a production standpoint, these were not the best shows, but in most cases “We were on schedule, the band played, we all got paid, no one died and we all went back to our place of residence.” Hopefully there was an insurance policy in place for each of the technician’s injuries, but again, “We were on schedule, the band played, we all got paid, no one died and we all went back to our place of residence.”
A Bad Day
A really bad day would read like this, “The show did not go on, payment was delayed or not made, someone died and not everyone went back to their place of residence!” As horrible as it sounds, it does happen, but while delayed payments and poor scheduling are inconveniences, to say the least, a job-related death is a tragedy. Fortunately, the incidence of such dire accidents in our profession is minute in comparison to the number of shows that are staged around the world each year but, that said, death is the final frontier, and one that most of us are not in a big hurry to explore.
The “Niche”
I myself have not given much thought to death because it’s an uncomfortable subject and I am wishfully thinking that the subject does not apply to me… at least not in the near future. My feelings are not singular, and most of my compatriots feel the same way when asked if they are prepared for the inevitable. So, how does one prepare for one’s own passing, especially in a business where we barely know what we are doing on a day-by-day basis? My mother, who is a musician about half a year away from her 90th birthday, called me up recently to announce she finally decided to be cremated rather than being interred and wanted me to accompany her to the cemetery to make the necessary plans. Not having dealt with the issue before, I asked, “What plans could one possibly make at a cemetery if they are not being buried?” As it turns out, my grandparents and my mother’s last boyfriend are interred in the very same cemetery, and my mother — being a somewhat sentimental person — wanted to be near all three of them, even though burial is out of the question.
At the cemetery, my mother and I were escorted into a nice conference room, and I sat there, next to the box of “Heavenly Soft Facial Tissue” (I kid you not) while a very nice guy named Mark walked us through the available options and pricing of urn interment. As morbid as this may sound, I assure you that the mood in the room was far from dark and gloomy. My mother and I both have a decent sense of humor and, since no one was actively in mourning, the visit was as benign as a visit to the shoe store. Mark explained that the final resting place should be thought of as a memorial, rather than a final resting place. Of course, how one is to be memorialized, depends upon how much one has to spend. On our tour of the cemetery, we saw everything from my grandparent’s name plaque to some climate-controlled mausoleums. Due to her budgetary constraints, my mom chose a name plaque rather than the other options available to her in the afterlife, but having decided against burial, her options were then limited to what is called a “niche.”
One of the things I learned as we negotiated my mother’s final memorial is that most standard-issue urns are made of black plastic. My mother is not a wealthy person, but she does have good taste and is predisposed to the finer things in life — as long as they fit the budget. I lightheartedly suggested to her that I didn’t think she was a black plastic type of girl, and that another choice might be more appropriate for her. She thought for a moment and decided that she actually did not like the idea of her ashes resting forever in a black plastic urn, and asked what her options might be. On display in the room was a nice green and white marble urn, which I pointed out might be more suitable for her sense of style. She acquiesced to my wish, even though she told me that green was not really her color and only conceded to me once she was assured that the urn was not green on the inside. Boy oh boy, how we get attached.
Anyway, a niche is a 10-inch by 10-inch opening in a specially designed wall in which the urn is placed. An engraved marble slab is bolted into place over the niche, which then becomes the memorial that forever marks one’s final resting place. This wall is about 20 feet high and 10 feet wide with horizontal rows of niches from top to bottom. Real estate at the top and the bottom is the most affordable; the middle section starts to get pricey. Having never pre-planned a final resting place, it came as a surprise to me when I told my mother she should choose a niche somewhere near or above eye level, and definitely one that could be touched. “After all,” I told her, “If I come to visit, I’d like to be able to see and touch the memorial.” “You will visit?” she asked hopefully. “Every chance I get, ma,” I responded. She chose a nice corner niche in arm’s reach, surrounded by only three other niches, a very nice piece of memorial real estate — if I say so myself.
A Good Investment
Financial terms seemed very agreeable and, having closed the deal, Mark turned his attention on me. “Why wait?” he asked. “Do what your mom is doing, and make it easy for your loved ones later. Not only is it a good investment, but prices are always going up, and if you lock in the interment site now — at the going rate — you could have it paid off in 20 years, and you and your wife can rest easy, knowing that your final wishes have been followed.” Sales are sales and business is business, and — not yet willing to commit to my final lay-away plan — I grabbed my mom and bolted back to the land of hope and great expectations.
I Get the Call
It’s hard enough to plan our lives beyond our next gig, so the idea of planning for the afterlife — even on a great lay-away plan — is almost incomprehensible. I must confess I’ve mulled it over, thinking that even if I haven’t been overly responsible and organized in my earthly sojourn, the least I could do is make it a little easier for those I will leave behind. Well, as chance should have it, I received a call from the good folks at Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx, and they want to plan a big anniversary show. I’m not sure if the universe might be trying to tell me something or if it is just serendipity, but I was struck by the irony of the timing.
Woodlawn Cemetery is the home of many once-famous people. In As a matter of fact, it’s been a veritable Who’s Who of New Yorkers for last 150 years. Beside the various criminals, writers and politicians lying in rest at Woodlawn are many famous jazz musicians, including Miles Davis and Duke Ellington. The anniversary event is guaranteed to be a huge success and, again, the irony of the current Who’s Who of New York symbolically — if not literally — dancing on the graves of the Who’s Who of the dearly departed is not lost on this hipster.
It’s hard to tell, but now that concerts in the Napa vineyards have taken off, this could be the next big thing. Thanks to my mother’s thoughtful planning, I’m thinking that maybe in lieu of payment, I can barter for a couple of gravesites for my wife and me. I wouldn’t demand anything fancy, of course. They can be out-of-the-way sites, not near anyone famous, yet perhaps with couple of small memorial plaques thrown in for good measure. It’s not much to ask for and, considering the state of the economy, I do think it’s important to plan for one’s future. But whatever you decide, please keep in mind that a tour bus should neither be considered a memorial nor a final resting place.
