NICE GUYS

I showed up at the rehearsal studio at a quarter to nine. Dave and Katie were there, setting up. The first drummer we were auditioning was also there. Elle hadn't showed up yet.

I smoked a cigarette outside. I was a little tense from having a weird day at work. I was also trying not to think about how fucked-up Eve has been to me lately. I really could've used some herb at that moment, but my recent decrease in pot consumption has left me without a regular stash on me to dip into, so I was shit out of luck.

Katie was talking to Dave, excited about the prospect of auditioning drummers and perhaps practicing some of the new tunes. I didn't have my bass on me-- I had asked Elle if I could borrow hers for the evening, and since she had yet to appear I was left without an instrument to cradle.

I sat down on the couch, and Katie asked me if I'd had a hard day. "Yes, I did," I replied. It was thoughtful of her to ask.

Finally, Elle showed up with two guitars, a keyboard, and a bass in the backseat of her car. I helped her unload the gear and brought it all into the studio room. The first drummer was still setting up, having brought his own cymbals and drum seat because these kinds of seedy rehearsal spots are notorious for their inadequate equipment.

I made a brief bathroom trip and almost gagged from the fresh vomit that was already in the sink when I got there. I've got a pretty good stomach for putrid filth, but that was one gnarly-ass sink!

The first drummer was a real nice Southern boy, from Houston. His playing was below average but he had a lot of heart. I found it hard to connect with him. Katie and Elle had already made up their mind about him, but they wanted to see if I vibed with him in rehearsal. Sadly, I did not.

The next guy came in, also named Dave. He looked like a middle-aged partyer/ex-surfer dude who played a decent kit and seemed to have no cares in the world. I thought he was cool, I thought he was passable on drums, but I could tell that Elle wasn't too keen on having him play with us. Well, I thought, he can always be a back-up...

We took each opportunity with a different drummer to work on the new songs that Katie and Elle had come up with over the weekend. Dave, our regular guitarist, was a bit lost because he is a busy guy with his own business, and I had to show him the basics here and there. Poor dude-- he is a pretty serious fellow, but he is a nice guy. Like me, he is afraid to be frank with Elle about her vocal limitations, because she is very sensitive to criticism. And the fact that these songs are changing yet again is a bit frustrating.

Yesterday, in this blog, I noted how I don't want to make the same mistakes again when it comes to bands. And I meant it. But my wishes came to a strange fruition when the last drummer for the night came through.

He referred to himself as MB, and Katie had met him online. MB had never heard any of the songs, and something told me that he didn't care. He looked like a drummer, had the arms of a drummer, and he had an intense vibe. I could tell, from my years playing with assorted fools, that this dude could pound some skins.

Sure enough, that motherfucker picked up the sticks, scooted up to the kit, and began to play aggressively, steadily, murderously. After two songs, I could feel myself predicting the outcome of the night: "No way this guy's gonna play with us for free," I said to myself.

He was that good.

As a bass player, I have to be especially critical of the drummers, because my friend A-Dogg once told me a musical truism, and not just because he himself was a percussionist: The drummer makes the band. With very few execeptions, the drummer makes the band. A bad drummer will bring good musicians down, and a good drummer will make bad musicians sound like they are tight.

I've been down this route before, with cocky drummers who know they are good and want to see if they can hook up with someone for whatever reason. I've heard good drummers tell me that, if I get my shit together later on down the line, then they'd work with me.

Most of these drummers spend their whole lives doing this, never getting anywhere. And let's face it-- good drumming is only half of it. Being a nice guy, as opposed to a jerk, is the other half.

My friend Laylow is not only a good drummer, but he is friendly and outgoing. He doesn't have an ego trip concerning his God-given talents. And Laylow gets paid like a muffucka... in fact, he doesn't even have a day job-- he relies solely on his session work to pay his bills. He drives a nice ride, hangs with bona-fide gangsta bitches, and keeps it real without having to show off or prove anything.

I'd ask Laylow to play with us, but I respect his craft. I don't have the cash to even begin to ask him to play with us. I wouldn't even embarrass him by putting him on the spot like that.

MB, on the other hand, must've thought that we needed him more than we really did, because afterwards he met with us at Denny's to discuss our goals and plans. And let me just say right off the bat-- I agreed with 95% of what MB said. The vocals are weak; the songwriting is not polished; playing gigs when we have no fan base is a waste of time overall...

I picked his brain, as I am wont to do, armchair-analyzing this dude to get his angle. Here's what I divined:

1. He played in a band with two female singers once. They got signed to Atlantic Records, and then they promptly fired him. He didn't say why, but he implied greed and ego on their part. Experience has taught me that there are two sides to every story, so I will just note the fact that he is bitter about that episode in his life and career.

2. He is more into hard music: metal, punk, thrash, grindcore, industrial. His hair was dyed black and he wore a bomber jacket. I mistook him for a white supremacist, and for all I know maybe he was. He was cool with me, because he could hear that I had the same view on the music business as him. Our view: it's run by legitimate white-collar criminals.

3. He has been playing for a long time. He knew The Secret to playing in L.A., which is to get people to your shows who spend a lot of money at the bar. He knew that playing gigs to your friends only works once or twice-- after that, your friends don't want to have to pay to keep seeing you do the same thing you did last time.

I wish Holly had been around to hear this dude speak.

I could see the look on Elle's face as MB spoke. She was clearly offended that he would dare imply that her singing needs work. Mind you, he didn't say she sucked; he didn't even say she was bad. He just said that she and Katie needed to get tighter with the harmonies. But Elle takes criticism very badly, and it was written all over her face.

If I'd thought MB was just being mean and beating up on her for no reason, I would've told homeboy to get to steppin'. But he was right, and what's more, he was saying all the shit that I have been afraid to say since I stated playing with Elle. I chalked it up to honesty, which I always respect, but I also chalk it up to MB not wanting to make the same mistakes he made in the past.

Katie wasn't offended by his words. In fact, when Elle left to the restroom a little while after MB finally left, she confided to me that she liked him.

"Oooooh," I said, like a little schoolboy who caught his neighbor doing something naughty.

"No, not like that," she explained. "I like him as a person. He's honest."

"Oh." I was somewhat relieved.

Elle drove me home, and I invited her inside for a bit of herb smoke to help cheer her up. I played her some of my own demos and explained how right now she and Katie should be taking sentiments such as the ones MB expressed and channeling it into making their demos better. We talked about music and playing in bands, and it became perfectly crystalline to me that Elle was in shock over MB's words.

"He just came off as... as egotistical," she said. "Everything he told me... it's not like I haven't heard these things from other people before."

Ah, yes, and what an interesting lot these "other people" have turned out to be.

First, there's Joe, whom I talked about in my old Archives. Holly, Elle and I were working on music one night and Joe showed up. He kept trying to run the session, and things got ugly when he practically attacked Holly for not "bringing it all to the table", as he put it. I found out later that he had hit on Holly once and always felt awkward about her rejection of him.

Then there's Bart, an engineer who has been stringing Elle along for years with promises of producing her songs, only to tell her to scrap her work and start from scratch. Meanwhile, he gets what he wants out of her (read: sexual favors) and he also gets to control her and manipulate her because she respects his work.

Oddly enough, Bart was another dude who tried to put the moves on Holly, only to get rejected. But it was worse with Bart, because the whole time he kept telling Elle that he was into her and her only. Holly was torn between her loyalty to Elle and her refusal to rat on Bart for fear of hurting Elle's feelings.

I had a memorable run-in with Bart one night, before Holly left for Florida last year. I was over at Elle's, trying to sync a drum machine beat to a click track. I kept tinkering with the tempo, and Bart showed up, feeling threatened by my mere prescence.

I'm that dude that every guy hates right off the bat, especially if I'm hanging out with their girl or lover or romantic interest or friend with benefits. He poo-pooed my atempts to sync the beat... until I actually did it, right there in front of him. You should've seen that guy's face when I got up and said, "Done." He literally jumped on the chair and started trying to find fault with my work on Pro Tools.

Then, he tried to run that old "I work in a studio" bullshit. I looked at him and said, "Oh yeah? I work in radio, where we only have two minutes to get it on the air... and it has to be done right the first time."

He didn't appreciate my swagger. They very rarely do, those types...

I'm sure he was okay with me once Elle explained that there was nothing going on between us. And as much as I like Elle, I am not interested in her like that.

So, if you're Elle, and you've got this Bart dude breathing in your ear for two long years about this and that, kissing your ass and talking sweet shit just so he can hit it, and then you run into a guy like MB who wins no points for tact but gets my vote for Most Brutally Honest Assessment Of The Year... it doesn't take a MENSA charter member to figure out that someone's overinflated perception of the world is about to get punctured.

By the time she left, I'd managed to convince her that it wasn't going to get in the way of what we were doing with the band. I found myself feeling sympathy for her, because as much as I have held my tongue with her regarding her talent, I also admire her drive. She will not give up. This is her dream, and who am I to shit on her dreams, especially since mine are similar to hers?

I first played bass for her as a favor to Holly. After Holly left, I could've dropped off the radar, but Elle kept asking me to help out. I did. Then she brought in Dan the drummer-who-can-no-longer-play-with-us, and Dave the regular guitarist. The addition of Katie has cemented my commitment, obviously, but it's not the sole reason why I am still in the picture.

I believe in trying to help people out, and believe me-- I've gotten that rap about using women for my own benefit from plenty of girls. In fact, I think that's the crux of my issues with Eve right now. I think Eve thinks I'm just telling her a bunch of bullshit so that I can tap that ass or whatever.

I won't deny that sex informs a lot of my decisions. But, I am not a slave to my primal desires. It doesn't rule my world. I have a life that revolves around more than just getting laid or getting paid.

Yes, I do use women-- as inspiration, as muses for my art. Maybe they don't always appreciate it, but that's what I use them for. The sex and everything that's in-between is just fleeting in the long run. What's important is what you have left over if nothing works out.

A night of passion can be wonderful, but having completed a work of art makes you a better person all around.

I fervently believe this, and my track record speaks for itself. My aim is true. Call me a dreamer, a naive wild-eyed upstart, whatever you want... I don't care.

I know the truth.

I'm a Nice Guy, and I'm also proof that we don't always finish last.