Play It Loud and Proud.
My story is your story.
Ok. I’ve received a request to relive something that happened to me several years ago. In retrospect, it’s actually pretty damn funny…to me. Even though it happened to me. What is it? Well, it started out as a simple misunderstanding where I for screwed. Of course I mean metaphorically, not literally. This isn’t that type of blog…yet. Don’t worry, I’ll turn to the back of the book for you and tell you it actually ended ok.
I used to live in Brevard County, Cocoa to be exact. I was in a band over there and the drummer was one of those guys who, well, was a drummer. Listen, to a bass player, the drummer is the one guy in the band you have to gel with. I got along with “Fuzzy” pretty well. We would hang out and do stuff together sometimes but he was one of those guys who was never to motivated to do much of anything, except maybe score weed or buy stuff for his drum kit. Not to mention he had a family. A wife and two daughters. I was freshly married with no kiddies so clearly our only real interests where music and partying. Well, as time went on, we diverged and I started jamming with other guys and he started jamming on occasion with this kid who really fancied himself a RockGawd bassist. He had good chops, the look and, sadly, the attitude. But lucky for me (you’ll see why in a minute) he was pretty careless and dumb, especially with his equipment.
One afternoon I came over to visit Fuzzy. In the corner of his garage was a black fretless bass that I picked up and started noodling on. I asked him, “Is this yours?” to which he responded, “Naw, it’s that kid's who plays with us now. He wants to sell it but I have no idea how to play one of those.” “Well, no”, I thought, “You’re a drummer…” I asked him to ask the kid how much he wanted for it. A couple of days later, Fuzzy called me and said the kid wanted $150 for it. I thought that was a pretty fair price, so I told Fuzzy I’d buy it off of the kid. Well, in the meantime, Fuzzy decided that he was going to try and learn how to play it. I told him I would pay him $50 for it now and $100 for it later as I didn’t have the whole $150 at the time. He said that would be cool. He then asked me if he could keep it at his house for a couple of weeks and noodle around on it himself. I said, that’s cool but I really want to take it to get set up because it played really badly and it needed some real TLC. Well, two weeks went by and I came asking for the bass. Fuzzy told me he was really getting into it and asked if he could keep it a little longer. I said that was fine and dropped off another $50 to him to give to the kid. I let him keep it for another couple of weeks and told him I really needed it now, I want to start learning how to play a fretless. The following is the conversation:
Me- “Dude, I am coming to get that bass. I want to take it and get it set up and stuff”
Fuzzy- “Umm, well, I don’t have it here”
Me- “Where is it then?”
Fuzzy- It’s at a friend’s house. Actually the kid wanted it back”
Me- “ Ahhh sh*t, dude, well I need my $100 back then. I’m coming to get it. I’ll be right there.”
Fuzzy- “Umm, well I don’t have it here. I gave it to the kid.”
Me- Well, just give me $100 and then get it back from him”
Fuzzy- “I don’t have $100 right now.”
Me- Well, then get it by next week, I either need the bass or my money.”
A week went by and I came- a- calling again:
Me- “Dude, do you have the bass or my cash?”
Fuzzy- “Umm, well I need to tell you something… I sold the bass to the music store. I needed the money man”
Me- “What? Ok…well then I’ll come by and you can give me my $100. I’m coming right now.”
Fuzzy- “Well, I don’t have that either man. I’m really strapped.”
By now, I’m pissed!
Me-“ Listen Fuzzy, you have three choices: One, get me my money back, get me the bass, or I’m going to come over there and after I kick your ass I am going to take $100 worth of your sh*t and sell it to get my cash back!”
Fuzzy- “Man, I’m sorry. Listen, the bass is still at the music store. Go by there and talk to the lady. We both know her.”
Me- No f*cking way, dick! If I do that, you re coming with me and you can explain to her how you just dicked me over!”
Fuzzy- “All right… I’ll meet you there.”
To my surprise, he showed up at the music store. We had both done business with the lady…she was way cool and always treated us well. We met in the parking lot and I asked him WTF he was trying to pull? Basically, he bought some weed and I believe some other drugs with the money I gave him and the money he got for the bass.
Looooser.
He spoke with Bev (the music store lady) and I could see them over there talking as I played around on the bass. It had a $299 price on it, by the way! She came over and asked me to explain my side. I told her that I had given him $100 for the bass and that I was going to give Fuzzy the other $50 for it, then bring it by to have her to set it up. Well, she said that her tech already did that (I knew that because it played a 1000 times better) and that it would cost $30 for that. That is what she had in it, plus the $200 she gave Fuzzy for it. She went back over to Fuzzy and told him he owed her $230 for what she gave him and the set up. She told me that I could go ahead and take the bass, as is, and she would settle up with Fuzzy. “Daaaamn!” I thought. So I left.
Well, a couple of days later, I went back to the store and asked her what has happened. She told me that he came in and said that someone had given him the fretless and that he was a drummer and didn’t need it. She gave him $200 for it, set it up and put it out to be sold. She heard the whole story and that he still owed her $150. She didn’t think she would get it back, but she saw that the bass was really mine so she decided to give it back to me.
So, I got a $300 bass for $100, and got a free set up. It was worth the drama. I still use it when I gig, playing PJ’s “Alive” on it, Sublime’s “What I Got” and other stuff when the mood hits.
Moral: Sometimes drummers suck, but you can’t have a good band with out one! Of course Fuzzy, or “Mr. Buttersticks” to some, wasn’t that great anyway. Chalk it up to youth.
Next time, I’m going to get to the whole 4 vs. 5 string thing.
I used to live in Brevard County, Cocoa to be exact. I was in a band over there and the drummer was one of those guys who, well, was a drummer. Listen, to a bass player, the drummer is the one guy in the band you have to gel with. I got along with “Fuzzy” pretty well. We would hang out and do stuff together sometimes but he was one of those guys who was never to motivated to do much of anything, except maybe score weed or buy stuff for his drum kit. Not to mention he had a family. A wife and two daughters. I was freshly married with no kiddies so clearly our only real interests where music and partying. Well, as time went on, we diverged and I started jamming with other guys and he started jamming on occasion with this kid who really fancied himself a RockGawd bassist. He had good chops, the look and, sadly, the attitude. But lucky for me (you’ll see why in a minute) he was pretty careless and dumb, especially with his equipment.
One afternoon I came over to visit Fuzzy. In the corner of his garage was a black fretless bass that I picked up and started noodling on. I asked him, “Is this yours?” to which he responded, “Naw, it’s that kid's who plays with us now. He wants to sell it but I have no idea how to play one of those.” “Well, no”, I thought, “You’re a drummer…” I asked him to ask the kid how much he wanted for it. A couple of days later, Fuzzy called me and said the kid wanted $150 for it. I thought that was a pretty fair price, so I told Fuzzy I’d buy it off of the kid. Well, in the meantime, Fuzzy decided that he was going to try and learn how to play it. I told him I would pay him $50 for it now and $100 for it later as I didn’t have the whole $150 at the time. He said that would be cool. He then asked me if he could keep it at his house for a couple of weeks and noodle around on it himself. I said, that’s cool but I really want to take it to get set up because it played really badly and it needed some real TLC. Well, two weeks went by and I came asking for the bass. Fuzzy told me he was really getting into it and asked if he could keep it a little longer. I said that was fine and dropped off another $50 to him to give to the kid. I let him keep it for another couple of weeks and told him I really needed it now, I want to start learning how to play a fretless. The following is the conversation:
Me- “Dude, I am coming to get that bass. I want to take it and get it set up and stuff”
Fuzzy- “Umm, well, I don’t have it here”
Me- “Where is it then?”
Fuzzy- It’s at a friend’s house. Actually the kid wanted it back”
Me- “ Ahhh sh*t, dude, well I need my $100 back then. I’m coming to get it. I’ll be right there.”
Fuzzy- “Umm, well I don’t have it here. I gave it to the kid.”
Me- Well, just give me $100 and then get it back from him”
Fuzzy- “I don’t have $100 right now.”
Me- Well, then get it by next week, I either need the bass or my money.”
A week went by and I came- a- calling again:
Me- “Dude, do you have the bass or my cash?”
Fuzzy- “Umm, well I need to tell you something… I sold the bass to the music store. I needed the money man”
Me- “What? Ok…well then I’ll come by and you can give me my $100. I’m coming right now.”
Fuzzy- “Well, I don’t have that either man. I’m really strapped.”
By now, I’m pissed!
Me-“ Listen Fuzzy, you have three choices: One, get me my money back, get me the bass, or I’m going to come over there and after I kick your ass I am going to take $100 worth of your sh*t and sell it to get my cash back!”
Fuzzy- “Man, I’m sorry. Listen, the bass is still at the music store. Go by there and talk to the lady. We both know her.”
Me- No f*cking way, dick! If I do that, you re coming with me and you can explain to her how you just dicked me over!”
Fuzzy- “All right… I’ll meet you there.”
To my surprise, he showed up at the music store. We had both done business with the lady…she was way cool and always treated us well. We met in the parking lot and I asked him WTF he was trying to pull? Basically, he bought some weed and I believe some other drugs with the money I gave him and the money he got for the bass.
Looooser.
He spoke with Bev (the music store lady) and I could see them over there talking as I played around on the bass. It had a $299 price on it, by the way! She came over and asked me to explain my side. I told her that I had given him $100 for the bass and that I was going to give Fuzzy the other $50 for it, then bring it by to have her to set it up. Well, she said that her tech already did that (I knew that because it played a 1000 times better) and that it would cost $30 for that. That is what she had in it, plus the $200 she gave Fuzzy for it. She went back over to Fuzzy and told him he owed her $230 for what she gave him and the set up. She told me that I could go ahead and take the bass, as is, and she would settle up with Fuzzy. “Daaaamn!” I thought. So I left.
Well, a couple of days later, I went back to the store and asked her what has happened. She told me that he came in and said that someone had given him the fretless and that he was a drummer and didn’t need it. She gave him $200 for it, set it up and put it out to be sold. She heard the whole story and that he still owed her $150. She didn’t think she would get it back, but she saw that the bass was really mine so she decided to give it back to me.
So, I got a $300 bass for $100, and got a free set up. It was worth the drama. I still use it when I gig, playing PJ’s “Alive” on it, Sublime’s “What I Got” and other stuff when the mood hits.
Moral: Sometimes drummers suck, but you can’t have a good band with out one! Of course Fuzzy, or “Mr. Buttersticks” to some, wasn’t that great anyway. Chalk it up to youth.
Next time, I’m going to get to the whole 4 vs. 5 string thing.
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