I suppose it would be much too much to even fantasize that those editors would be clued in to this discussion and see themselves as the contemptuous creatures they are, let alone be contrite and realize what they missed in terms of a writer who had so much to offer and an ethic that they each sorely lacked. On top of that, would they hold themselves responsible for diminishing the bass-playing world by their crass actions? Probably not, I'm guessing.
I am SO looking forward to the book...!
I found out last night that
Bass Player is fully aware of this thread. I can't tell you the context, because that would be breaking a confidence, but I need to confirm to the person who wrote to me last night that there was no malice in my posting any of this. I
had to write it, and I
have to write
Ghosts and Ballyhoo. I go back to the quote by one of my favorite painters, Otto Dix: "Painting is an act of banishment."
I had to banish this. I'll make it clear in my memoirs that what happened was as much my fault as anybody else's, because of my stubborn refusal to face reality. I've paid the price, believe me. If anyone from
Bass Player reading this thinks that I'm somehow having the last laugh, remember that because I let myself boil with anger for as long as I did, I blew up my immune system. I may be disabled for the rest of my life by Meniere's disease. It's too early to know.
When my memoirs are published, I won't be able to travel to promote them. So, if anyone from
Bass Player is wishing me ill (not the person who contacted me last night), don't worry: I'm there. I'm ill. Believe me, you don't want to be walking in my shoes. And I did it all to myself. There's no doubt. Don't waste your time putting a curse on my head. It's already happened.
But what I've written about and will write about in the future are factual events. They occurred. I bear no individual any personal animus, which is why I haven't named them and will not name them in
Ghosts and Ballyhoo. This is the story of my life as a failed music journalist. Note that phrase: failed music journalist.
I failed, so I get to write about it as I see fit.
And, my sense of justice requires that I tell my story without sugarcoating it. Not out of vengeance, but to honor and commemorate the person I once was, who at the time thought he was a huge asset to the magazine and who wanted nothing more than to keep writing for
Bass Player forever.
I hated the L.A. cesspool, but I loved my job. I'd finally found something I was good at. I owe it to my younger, more naive self to tell his story, because that man no longer exists. I'm a different person now.
To quote Stephen Crane "I have no complaint." Honestly. If you gave me a magic button that would let me go back and change everything, I wouldn't, because it was only through loss and despair that I finally became the person I'd always wanted to be.
The cost was high, and I'll try to convey that in
Ghosts and Ballyhoo so that people don't make same mistakes I did.
I've been granted permission by Scott Thunes to make him a kind of Greek chorus in my memoirs, a regular presence whose own experiences will serve as a healthier, more grounded way of dealing with adversity.
Bass Player allowed me to interview him and did a great job with the article, so I'll always be grateful to the magazine for playing its part in bringing this remarkable artist into my life.
I'm not angry anymore,
Bass Player. But I can't downplay what happened. The past is the past, yes. However, I owe it to that younger, long-gone me to be painfully honest about how it all came about. It was my fault as much as yours, and I'll make sure that people who read the book understand that. I must relate the facts.
There's no need for any more anger. As I told the guy who wrote the letter to the editor that was the cruelest, most personal assault on me during my entire career at
Bass Player, "Buy my book and all is forgiven."
.
