[Dixielandjazz] In return for the Noah piece
KIMBERLY_SHAFFER at pgn.com
Tue Apr 13 17:40:45 PDT 2004
>>> <pete at petepetersen.com> 04/13/2004 >>>
The Twenty-Third Job
The Leader is my shepherd, I shall not starve;
He maketh me sit down in powder blue tuxedos.
He leadeth me beside shrill vocalists;
He restoreth my wallet.
He leadeth me in dance halls of gratuitousness;
for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the kitchen or the back hallway
I will fear no evil;
For thou art paying me.
Thy baton and thy charts
they showcase me.
Thou preparest a chair for me
in the presence of mine audience;
thou countest off my chart with vigor,
my beer spilleth over.
Surely Goodman and Miller shall follow me
all the days of my life;
and I shall dwell in the house of the Band forever.
Blessed are the poor in cash, for theirs is the wedding gig.
Blessed are those who blow changes, for they shall be soloists.
Blessed are the sight readers, for they shall inherit the section parts.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for dinner on the break, for
shall be satisfied;
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall never play an accordion.
Blessed are the pure in tempo, for they shall be drummers.
Blessed are the Bassplayers, for they shall be bored.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of playing 'In the
one more time, for theirs is the kingdom of Mortgage Payments.
Blessed are you when men revile you and persecute you and utter all
evil against you falsely on my bandstand. Rejoice and be glad, for your
reward is great at the end of the night, for also did men persecute the
trombonists who were before you.
The Sideman's Prayer (Protestant version)
Our Leader, who art in Tails,
Figurehead be thy name.
Thy downbeat come, thy will be done
on stage as it was in Miller's.
Give us this gig our daily check,
And forgive us our bebop licks
as we forgive those who play a tritone sub against us.
And lead us not into bad weddings
but deliver us from Guy Lombardo.
For thine is the countoff, and the cutoff, and the paycheck
Hail Bandleader, full of gigs, the Sideman is with thee;
Blessed art thou amongst Musicians, and Blessed is the Fruit by the
Deviled Eggs, next to the carved Prime Rib and fleshy Salmon which we as humble
sidemen, do get to partake of, as stipend and in lieu of the higher wages thou
couldst pay us, but pocket instead in our names, thus;
Give us this day, yet another phone call, so as to conflict us in
thought and deed, for we all knoweth that as soon as we accept ye repartes, thus
shall we get the next call for the same date at double the wages, closer in town
and cast away of the dreaded powder blue badge of shame.
Holy Bandleader, Mother of all things in Business (also known as MoFo),
pray for us sinners, reedmen, hornmen, string men and percussive catz, before
the gig, in prayer that we meet thy dreaded downbeat despite rush hour traffic,
during our session, that we shall not make the bad bop notes, nor the tritone sub
in the dreaded Glen Miller tune, nor lest we imbibe of the redder then thy
face holy vino in excess, to the point of copping feeleth off the bride in full
view of thee, and at the hour of the last song, when we are weak of character
and ratty of tux and wish to play in the heavenly, but complex style of St.
Ornette of Coleman or the Miles' Apostle, John of Scofield ...all these things,
and lots more that time not permits this infidel to smite at the moment, do we
ask of thee, till the last flick of the bic on the check grazes from thine
eyes to ours; and thus thus, so it is written, so let it be cashed...
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