My Indie Syn Episode

My Indie Syn Episode

Click on the link above to see it!!!!!

Laying Floor

Nineteen years ago I converted the garage to a studio and had my twins draw on sections of the plywood subfloor. Guess what I'm doing? Found the Chris McNay masterpiece today. Maybe find the Allie McNay original next week. Sorry but I'm pretty sure there wasn't a Chelsea McNay one since she was only one or two.

Trip Santa Monica

I went back to Trip Santa Monica after a couple of years away and had a really cool night. There was a rock band that brought people in and I kept them for a while. Great ambiance!. Had a great time and even came out with a pint and a couple of cool videos.

Another Venue Hits The Dust -San Clemente First Sunday Art Walk

Hi,

Until Sunday morning, I was the banjo player/ singer at the First Sunday Art Walk. I’ve been coming every month for the last couple of years. I was classified as a non-profit vendor and was brought in by your previous market director. I thought it was fun. I enjoyed talking to the customers and playing for the kids when the parents would stop to listen. The tips were all right. On the average, about 50 of your customers thought enough of my performance to provide tips per each Sunday. A lot of the time it was more.

Since the beginning of the year my scheduled performance sites have become problematic. I was supposed to move to a different location after the first two hours. At the first location, another non-profit vendor near me was very aggressive in soliciting funds and made it impossible to get tips. I addressed this with Allison and I moved up across Ola Visa to perform near the intersection. The second site where I was supposed to perform never really existed, so I had to make do with what space I could find.

There began to be a problem with one vendor wanting me not to be near them, so I complied. A couple of times I had to return back down to the corner at Ola Visa and Del Mar because I couldn’t find another location. I asked Allison to just give me the spot on that corner permanently, which she would not do. She rented it to a commercial vendor instead. With the reopening of the shop on that corner, I was forced to move up the sidewalk so as to not block the doorway to the new shop. Immediately, the vendor that took my spot complained to Allison and I was asked to move. Allison wasn’t sure where I was supposed to move to. I was told I was not a paying Vendor so I was expected to make do.

Over the last year, my endeavors in performing have been gaining some success. I’ve performed at The San Diego County Fair and The Iris Festival in Porterville and The Malibu Art Festival to name a few. My YouTube Channel has topped 12,000 views and I have a new CD in the works. I am professionally hired and make standard performance fees a lot of the time now.

To drive an hour and a half to your venue for no money other than tips and to have no reasonable place to set up my chair, has turned this into a very negative thing. At one point, Allison was even questioning my playlist, even though she has never been around to notice what I play for four hours. I have watched as she has spoken badly of a couple of the paying vendors which I considered my friends to other Vendors.  I wouldn’t be surprised if she speaks badly of me as well. She appears to be incapable of planning my performance space ahead of time or correcting my contact information in her mailing list.

Given the circumstances, I’m requesting a refund of the $50.00 I was asked to pay last year for membership in your organization. I’ve received little benefit. I don’t really expect your organization to refund me, but I will include my address here.  I probably would have continued to come, but it has really become a very unpleasant thing.

Dan McNay

7750 Isis Ave. Los Angeles, CA 90045

310-337-7229

So I'm Playing

This is a photo from VisualPhotos.com. I'm advertising their image because it was the closest one I could find to illustrate the woman's face this Sunday past. I'm not using it in a commercial setting so I thought it would be ok. 

So I'm playing at The Old World Village Bazaar in Huntington Beach on Sunday. The manager had seen my videos and we had discussed me coming in December, but it didn't work out. She finally decided to have me this Sunday. I play all over Southern California now. I get paid $100.00 an hour for the paid gigs. But I'm still trying out tips venues. I still play for free, for non-profits and anything that looks halfway interesting. I'd rather be performing than not. There are several I do regularly that offer good money. So I set up and start to play about 9:30. I've agreed to 10:00 to 2:00, which I can do easily. The manager is happy, I'm happy. I play. All of the table vendors outside are raving about me, The lady next to me comes over to video me on her Iphone so she put me up on Facebook to tell her friends to come out for the music if nothing else. Five dollar bills are flying into my banjo case. Other vendors are coming over to give me tips. The manager comes over and suggests that I come back for their Farmers Market starting in July. I tell sure. $50.00 to $100.00 is a pretty good tip day anywhere.

About 11:30 a little old lady, from a deli across the courtyard hobbles out of her doorway. She looks like she is at least seventy. She comes halfway over to me, waits for me to notice her and then makes a face like this at me. Then turns and goes back into the deli. I told her over the mic: "Don't listen if you don't like it."

I got one of these from a little old Hispanic guy in Woodlawn Hills six months ago. Don't know why exactly. Goes with the territory, I guess. Anyway, I keep playing. I've long gotten used to the mean spirited little bugs of the world. So about 1:00- after I've played some more and taken a lunch break- the manager comes over to tell me the bug has complained and can she move me. I say sure. And I do my last hour around the corner. I feel bad for the manager. Now she will have to get this bug's approval for any other musician she has in the place. And I'm not coming back.

They are people that love and people that hate me. I became aware of it early on. The judging at the Topanga Fiddle Contest was two judges. I got a 70% rating and a 30% rating. There really has only been a handful. The manager of an antique fair in Anaheim, who sent me home. (Meanwhile her vendors are hooting and hollering and tipping me) She hadn't listened to the video clips I had sent her. And a shopkeeper in San Clemente, who came out because I was interfering with her shop music. I guess you have to put up with this if you are playing these kind of venues. Clubs and Festivals only have people who want to be there. I've decided I want to make them all into bobble-heads that I can keep on my mantle to remind me of my roots. But there really has only been about five or six. The problem is that you are out there because you want everyone to love you.

The other thought occurred to me this morning. I've never really understood why people want to listen at all, but I've been told more than once its probably because of the emotive ability of my voice. And since I don't understand any of this, I've been following my emotional ties and my emotional gut feeling as I've been recording and performing now, thinking, well, this is what I'm being told I do well. So I'm thinking maybe that very emotional output really really bothers certain kinds of people.
The guy running an early open mic I used to go to, coming over afterward and telling me that I had written one of the best dead baby songs he ever heard.

The DragonFly

So I answer a come-on on Craig's List for a gig at The DragonFly downtown Los Angeles, thinking it will be one of these local people that will want you to sell tickets to get to play. I get a call from a lady in Cleveland. She describes herself as a hothouse flower of a booker and she may talk crazy, but she will always be true blue. So here's the deal. I'm invited to show up on July 8th. (Like a Wednesday night.) I do not have to sell tickets, but those who sell the most will get to pick their 40 minute slot. So you don't find out your slot until the night of. So I'm supposed to get my peeps down there to hang out all night long to see me. As if any of my peeps will really go downtown on a week night to see me do anything. I say ok, but I would prefer to know the slot. Part of me wants to try out these things for material for the book I'm starting next year about trying to play music at sixty. But, I've already been there. The fucker that booked me into the House of Blues, wasn't going to put me on, he brought in some unscheduled guy to steal some time before me. The floor manager at the Room made him cut him short and put me on. (I was scared shitless anyway. I made it through, but I got to say I did it.) Anyway, I know this would just be more of the same crap. If  they did let me play at all. Anyway. the girl wanted to know if I was Irish because she was. I told her the joke about how I was so Irish I was raised so I could beat up my father to protect my mother later. That went over like a ton of bricks. No beating in her Irish family I guess. Anyway I got a packet in the mail with about 30 $10.00 tickets with my name on them. I'm thinking -Jesus, I didn't sign anything. Are they coming after me later for $300.00? Anyway, I mailed them back to my Irish Princess saying I wasn't participating. The thought had occured to me that I could ask for the first slot, which no one would want, play my 30 minutes and go home. But I got lots of slots that have a better ambiance than this. And lots of slots that I did do when there was nobody there. Got to look for the possibilities.

Where I'll Be