I know much has been said here about the mandolin cafe, but I just have to get this off my chest.
I've always liked the cafe alright, even though there are several people on there that "know everything", and cannot wait to correct the tiniest error in someone else's post.
Last year, I moved to North Carolina From Montana, where I had two really good bands that worked alot. I probably made $10k a year playing music. I thought that NC would be a good place to play music, and I would find people that I would really hit it off with, musically. I communicated with several people on the MC that were really encouraging, and when some people decided to have a MC get together in April '06, I was really jazzed to go. I was doing alot of really heavy, hand-intensive work on the house we bought, and by the time this get together came around, my hands were pretty wrecked, but I still wanted to go and meet people. One of my new "friends" was driving past my house to the gathering, so he picked me up, and all seemed fine. I should have known it wasn't going to be that great when I walked in and this guy rushed up to me, gushing about this Gilchrist mandolin someone was letting him play. He handed it to me, and I handed him my 70's Tennessee A style. He didn't actually spit on the ground, but he made a terrible face and refused to touch it! (This is a pretty ugly mandolin, but people are always commenting on how great it sounds) Every body was playing bluegrass as fast as they could, so I was a little out of my element, and my hands being wrecked, I really couldn't keep up. When it was my turn to call a song, I called Django's "swing 42", which we played. The next time around, when it seemed like it was my turn to call one, I was ignored. A saw a surprised look on a couple of faces when it happened, but I just let it go. After that, I was shunned by most of the guys there, and made to feel very unwelcome. The guy I rode with stopped returning my emails after that, too. I really had a bad feeling about the whole thing, and I kinda stopped playing the mandolin very much for several months. I've been playing electric guitar in a country and western swing band, and some lap steel and dobro here and there. So, several months ago, I was talking to some of my friends out west, and I told them that I wasn't really playing the mandolin very much. They were shocked, and told me that I better get on it and stop feeling sorry for myself, so around February, I really started working on the mandolin again. Now, I'm feeling alot better about my mando playing, and I'm feeling pretty pissed-off at those jerks that treated a new guy in town like a piece of dirt. As Jethro Burns said to Joe Venuti, "I can play any damn thing you can, so shut up and play!".
I guess that living out west for so many years, I forgot how bad the bluegrass police could be down here in the south, or maybe I thought that it had changed. It hasn't.  now view the cafe, and many of the real "regulars" there in a different light, and I hardly ever post anything serious. I still like to look at the classifieds though.
So, next spring we're going to sell this house in NC, and move back to Montana, where I will never land a record deal, but I'll be able to play good music with good friends, and also be able to eat barbeque that's not sweet pork topped with cole slaw.

Heh heh heh, I got alot of that around here from the local bluegrass folks, finally got to the point where they refer to me as "the guy who plays anything but bluegrass", I take it as a compliment. Keep swingin' and throwin' down those chord charts that even the finest BG players have trouble with! It's fun to watch 'em try to keep up their blazin' riffs outa their element, then when those that can't wander off you usually end up with a pretty good jam goin' with folks that ain't so musically retarded.

Woody Allen ones said word to the effect of "I'd never want to be a member of a club that would have me as a maybe".  I have pretty much the opposite opinion.  I'd be more than happy to play with anyone who'd play with me.  

Too bad them guys don't have such an open mind.  Hopefully, if you look around, you'll find someone who does.

Quote :

kvk wrote : Woody Allen ones said word to the effect of "I'd never want to be a member of a club that would have me as a maybe".  I have pretty much the opposite opinion.  I'd be more than happy to play with anyone who'd play with me.   Too bad them guys don't have such an open mind.  Hopefully, if you look around, you'll find someone who does.

Actually it was Groucho Marks who said "I'd never want to be a member of a club that would have me as a member"

I hear new people who want to join the Southen Nevada Bluegrass Music Society here in Vegas complain about being snubbed, especially those who are members of the Nevada Oldtime Fiddlers Association. Seems these two clubs don't get along for a reason I haven't figured out. I show up anyway. I'm not a very good BG mandolinist but I try anyway. Within the SNBGMS there is a band that pretty much has taken over the club, so its kind of a click. But having lived in Vegas since high school(37 year now), I'm well aware of the clickiness of Las Vegas.

I just ignored it, blaze into a jam anyway, support this local BG band by going to their gigs, and even bought their first album a few weeks ago(since alot of the music they play in the jam sessions are on this album, I can now figure out the songs better, he,he).

Been doing this about a year now so they know me and that I won't be intimidated. We get along just fine. With some groups, you have to be tenacious and keep coming back until they get to know you and accept you.  I know this is contray to welcoming new people to a jam group, but it seems some locales are not easy to get in the first time around. It takes time for people to warm up to you.  

--Last edited by gnelson651 on 2007-07-03 22:05:43 --

I've been a regular at many of the Montana Rockies Bluegrass Assn. jams around the Missoula area even though we live in Idaho.

It seems those folks are the most courteous jammers I've ever been around. They always try to give everyone a chance to do their tune even though it may be a beginner in a room full of hot pickers--nobody whines about it. Everyone gets a turn, both at choosing a song and taking a break if they want.

Man, if I could only find a good payin' job in Missoula . . .