This is simple. The hierarchy for ass in a band is as follows, as I have observed as a musician and roadie:
- Lead singer (Don’t even THINK about competing. They are basically humping the entire audience during the set.)
- Saxophonist (Most bands do not have one. But if they do, this man takes a backseat only to the front man.)
- Lead guitarist (Assuming no sax player, this guy has — almost — his pick of female fans.)
- Drummer (Old joke — what do you call a guy that hangs out with musicians? A drummer. But damned if they don’t look good back there beating their skins with their long, rigid shafts.)
- Rhythm guitarist (Doesn’t take the leads but still gets credit for strapping on the Strat.)
- Bass player (Hey, we know how to hit the groove!)
- Keyboard player (Barely a step above the road crew. Not that there is anything wrong with the road crew!)
Right this moment, as I type this, I’m sitting at a sports bar crying.
I’m traveling for work this week and have been in strategic meetings since Monday. I am wearing my professional persona. From early morning until late afternoon (and into our group dinners in the evening) I’ve been wearing the mask of the business person. It’s important to look and act appropriate for the role that you are filling. I’m sincere in that statement. In that particular role, I try to be judicious and measured in my communications with my business partners. As I have not yet been pulled aside in a conversation that starts with “hey, we need to talk about that email that you sent…” I figure I’m successful in presenting the persona that my company expects from me.
But right now, I’m pissed. These are tears of anger. I am NOT professional.