A Barking Dog

I use Apple’s iTunes and iTunes Music Store on a regular basis and have since I bought my first iPod back when I was working for the classic rock grunge band. Or pretty much since it opened. I have several hundred dollars in purchases but find I still need to resort to Bit Torrent or Limewire for some things. Let’s face it, compared to the other so called “legal” alternatives, iTMS is pretty much Thee Shit. iTunes is so flexible we use it at the Swankiest Dive On The Strip ™ as an emergency pull it out of our ass playlist to fire either SFX or the whole show. Yeah, from iTunes. That is if all of our other failovers and spares shit the bed. Even on the corp gigs I do these days we’ve replaced the CD player with an iTUnes playlist (though we usually dump it to the IR for some things). So, imagine my disgust/surprise/anger/amazement earlier today when not only did my latest purchase not download, but all of the Fair Play DRMed music was suddenly deauthorized from my still pretty new, not too old, hellava machine, my Mac Pro.

Of course, my first inclination was to say (out loud, at that) Steve Jobs you’re a motherfucker. Though this particular malady wasn’t directly the fault of the man often clad in a black mockneck, technically were he to be having sex with women that were mothers, the description would fit. I suppose I fit that description as well. I had just updated my Mac Pro EFI firmware and upgraded to 10.4.8. That’s when my iTunes shit the bed. I’ve had a hankerin’ for The Cult lately. I figured I’d do what the rest of us middle aged, former (or really never were) hipsters do, and download the album, err I mean CD from iTMS. Yes, I’ll never forget the time way back when I walked into the Deja Vu on Lake City Way and saw our bookkeeper on stage dancing to Fire Woman.

On gladly taking my credit card info (they store it, actually), my iTunes started behaving rather strangely. The download wouldn’t complete. That’s odd, I’ve used iTMS a bunch before and never had this problem. I go to the top of the playlist that I use the most, and the new Evanesence wants to be authorized for this computer. Shit, I played it just prior to my “update”. Oh damn. I try some Peter Murphy from the iTMS. Same thing. Try some Floyd, (Pink, not Andy’s barber) ripped from CDs I own. No prob. So I email iTMS support. Hopefully they’ll have a good answer, but in the time since I quit iTunes, opened it again and I was authorized, though it thinks my freshly updated firmware makes iTunes think this is new computer. Never had that problem in the three decades I’ve been buying music.

The point of this post isn’t to wax about MILFs or remember how Lori was a better stripper than bookkeeper, but to remind those poor souls (or clueless twits) that run the labels why people would rather use Bit Torrent or Limewire than online sources that use DRM. I try to buy when I can, but find me a Rik Agnew “OC Life” at a so called “legal” download site and I’ll gladly buy it. Try to find one at iTMS, Real or that piece of shit Microsoft launched. It’s an URGE alright. I have the urge to barf when I use it. The labels have had almost a decade to get it together and have failed miserably. You’d think with execution that poor they’d had been running the Bush White House. People use file sharing services because they are easy and provide for portability of the music. The labels have stepped on their dicks (in golf shoes) by not being able to capitalize on the download craze. The acts that have forged ahead to do their own thing, by and large have done pretty well, or at least better than when they were getting shafted with the big label deals.

When you make it difficult for your customers to consume your product or put up so many barriers that getting it and using it will become cumbersome, they’re going to use other means to get it. And you really can’t blame them. If I may quote the great Swearengen, “those cocksuckers got what they deserved”.

And I still don’t have my copy of Fire Woman.

LDI/ETS starts in Sin City next week. Make sure you bring your Vegas essentials. Condoms, plenty of lube, moist towelettes, err, what, opps, sorry how about comfortable walking shoes, a bag to put all your swag in, a pic of your hotel room door on your phone cam and just for good measure, a pic of your hotel so if nothing else you can show the cabbie that and likely make it back to your pad away from home. The good news is no longer do you need change for the slots. It’s all tickets now but we did keep the clanking coin payout sound effect. Even though we are in the midst of gigging and day crew shifts I’ll make the rounds with the department boss during one day though we won’t have it nailed down for a day or so.

Thurs I’ll be at the Sound Track conferences then scurrying to the show. Not quite sure about the weekend except that I’ll be on the show floor at least on one day. Perhaps some of us can meet after show at the Artisan or Peppermill, two uniquely Vegas kind of places.

Well, my posting frequency has shit the bed. Between getting indoctrinated at the pool (I’m technically no longer “in training” and now on the run crew doing some day maintenance shifts as needed), having a social life and working the last two weeks straight at the theater and doing a corporate I committed to in June, it’s been fun packed. I’ve had a few posts in the can, mostly comparisons to what I’m doing and what I’ve done. It’s been eventful, from the witnessing of the staging of a new show, to our trials in running an audio department in big time Las Vegas production show business, to me getting wheeled out of the theater by parametics because of a reaction to my BP meds that the show trainers had never seen. We had a bit of a discussion of if I was having a heart attack. In front of a significant amount of the cast and crew. It was a couple of weeks ago and I’m still getting “are you OK?” from various crew members. in a six plus story building with more than 120 crew members, you don’t see everyone every day, but having the paramedics called gets everyones attention. Especially if it’s the new guy.

The BP meds I’ve been on for a couple of years, Toprol XL and Lisinopril are some pretty powerful drugs. A couple of years ago I went to a dive medicine specailist because as I was having issues in my sinus tract which turned out to be a condition that lead to me not being able to dive without surgery to correct it. While I was there, it was determined that I was suffering from the most chronic type of high blood pressure and we started treatment immediately. I don’t say this to share my middle aged man maladies, but rather to have you lot get off your fat asses and get your BP checked. Hypertension is a silent killer, if you don’t manage it, it’s likely a couple of decades will be knocked off your life. If not more. So, after a period of different doses and combinations, we found what worked and I didn’t review the data sheets that completely. Turns out, this shit is powerful wack. If your body is out of wack, for example dehydrated, the drugs will turn on it and cause pretty adverse reactions. Because I’ve been, well, more “physically active” in the last month than in the last decade or so, I might have overachieved that week.

A while back, I did have a reaction to the meds. I was onstage doing a gig for my buddy Dansound about a year and a half ago at a children’s fest in the Jet City (actually Thee children’s fest) where I hit the stage like a sack of bricks, or a nearly 300 lb roadie. At that time, anyway. The show staff thought I was having a stroke, I didn’t know what the fuck was happening. After several visits to the doc, a myriad of tests, to the tune of not quite US$10k, out of pocket, no insurance. Don’t get me started on the health care system of the “most powerful nation on earth”. Sure, we can bomb the shit out of some motherfuckers we don’t like, but try something like decent, affordable health care for all citizens and we shit the bed. We do have the best medical technology available, too bad many people that need it can’t get it. I was lucky, though not insured, I had enough ratholed away to get what I needed. Not everyone is so fortunate. After all that was done and my meds adjusted, I knew what it was like to have a reaction to the BP meds. Too bad the sports med guy at my gig didn’t know.

I rolled into what we call the DI garage, not because it’s shaped like a Countryman Type 85, but rather because it’s the initials of the place that was imploded to make way for our 2 billion dollar palace. And a nice one it is. Amber and I had dinner in one of the restaurants there last week and it was devine. Exceptional, in fact. So anyway, I roll into work on Sun afternoon (two weeks ago) and get out of my car and feel dizzy, nearly pass out. I know the feeling and remember what the Diving Doc told me. I liked Diving Doc so much I made him my primary care a couple years back. Bummer is, he’s in Seattle. I’m not. The deal is this, if I feel I’m in danger or not sure, get yee to the trauma center ASAP. If not that bad, rest, and take BP and if it doesn’t level off and I still feel dizzy, get yee to a trauma center for an EKG. If I feel OK, then just rest. I felt OK but was a bit woozey (is that even a word?) and as the chick magnet sound guy and I were working on our dive systems intercom on the pool deck, I thought I’d stop at Health Services (we have our own health dept at the show) to have my BP checked. Just to be sure.

After waiting about 10 mins as they were providing PT and sport massage to many of our 85 cast members (we got lotsa people performing), I got my turn to see the EMTs. Apparently, there is an MD as well, but not there at the time. I explain the situation, BP meds, yada, yada, yada. Seen this movie before, yada, yada, yada. Just need the BP checked, yada, yada, yada. So they check it. It’s off the the map. I know it will be high, but not at that level. At the level they measured I should either be dead, or have my heart residing outside my chest cavity. He takes a short history and vitals. When he’s done, I get up to leave. “You’re not going anywhere” he says. “Who is your supervisor?” I tell him and ask what’s happening. “I believe you to be in major coronary distress at the moment and we need to transport you to the hospital, STAT”. Stat? Exfuckingscuseme? Perhaps you’ve made a mistake, I’ve seen this before, being treated for two years, I know what’s going on. No matter. My HOD (head of department, my direct boss) is summoned, as well as the executive staff of the show, the resort security and the parametics. I felt like the guy on the sled in the Grail flick, “but I’m getting better”.

So they prep me for the arival of the paramedics. They strap O2 on me, put me in a wheelchair and decide to bring me to the dock on the pool level. Which happens to mean all the carps, aquatics, fluid FX and much of the cast will see me. And as it happened, many of the riggers and some of the electrics dept were also there. Great, I should sell tickets. By this time, my HOD (actually the assistant HOD, the guy that hired me, my pal Steve) and a Sr. show exec had showed. They each asked what I wanted to do. Well I had two shows to mix that night. That’s what we do in big time roadieism. If we aren’t mortally wounded, or dead, we gig. Tis only a flesh wound. They would have none of that. I’m relagated to being Sideshow Bob, waiting for the paramedics to arrive and being eye candy for the entire production, which including cast, crew, production and execs, is over 200 people.

The paramedics pull up and I’m relagated to give a medical history in front of 20 people I don’t know. The paramedics have an EKG and know what questions to ask. They ask if I have ringing in my ears, I answer that I have tinnitus so I can’t tell tell if it’s my normal condition or the effect of the meds. I look the show exec in the eyes and say, “if you mix big time shows for a quarter century, you’ll have hearing loss”. The paramedic jokingly says “WHAT!” in a loud manner. We all laugh. The paramedics determine I’m OK, bad reaction to the meds. Just like I said.

I don’t want to seem unappreciative to the Health Services staff, I’m glad they are looking out for me. At the same time, I knew what was happening to me and there was really nothing one could do until it ran its course. The show med staff is used to seeing well fit, well oiled, hard body athletes that are in prime condition. When some overweight, oversexed, middle aged show biz roadie appears they don’t know quite what to do with it. In the end, just like I knew, I’m fine. My new doc and I are working on a regimen to lessen the impact of the meds.

One thing I’ve done different, I’ve brought my own BP machine to the gig.