In the August issue of
Premier
Guitar, my column “Risk
... and Survival” considered a
bassist’s risks for taking on new
gigs, along with some tips for
how to come through it all with
a happy ending. In the same
issue, an interview with the
legendary bassist Stanley Clarke
concluded with his statement,
“Don’t pass up nothin’. If you
have the ability to try it out, try
it out.”
Frank—a
PG reader from
Portland, Oregon—emailed me
shortly after the issue came out
and suggested considering new
musical possibilities according to
the “opportunity cost” involved.
The term sounded familiar—
something out of my undergrad
economics class way back
when—but it was lost in the
cobwebs of my mind. To recall
the concept, I did a quick search
and landed on About.com’s economics
section, which offered
this plain-language explanation:
Unlike most costs discussed
in economics, an opportunity
cost is not always a number. The
opportunity cost of any action is
simply the next best alternative to
that action, or put more simply,
“What you would have done if
you didn’t make the choice that
you did.”
And there you have it.
Opportunity cost is a way of
assessing potential gigs based on
the musical, rather than monetary
gains you might receive
from choosing among them.
As a semi-pro player, pay is
rarely at the top of my list of
choice factors. If I took gigs
based solely on pay, I’d be gigless.
It’s a rare gig that pays
enough to turn me into a bass
mercenary, but when I do run
across one of those unusual
opportunities, I start wondering
how the other factors will
weigh in. A perfect example is a
corporate gig that pays well, but
involves a night of constantly
being told to turn down, receiving
painful requests, and getting
the second-class treatment
of eating dried-out sandwiches
while standing in the kitchen.
On the other hand, if the gig
means playing with some really
hot musicians, it might be a
different story.
Personal growth is often
one of my top choice factors.
When I can play with musicians
a step above me in their
abilities, the adrenaline starts
pumping and I’ll try my best
to stay sharp the whole night.
If the gig is a rousing success,
I’ll temporarily bask in the
glory. And if I hit some snags,
it’s time for a large serving of
humble pie and a new practice
agenda to build up lagging
skills. In any case, this is a time
for putting on the poker face,
learning not to wince when I
hit a clunker, and turning mistakes
into new ideas.
Safety may not always come
to mind right away, but I’ve
played a few gigs I’ve regretted—
gigs where someone
insisted on sitting in, people
were falling-down drunk, or
attendees getting a little combative
when their repeated
requests got overlooked. I
once played a biker gig with a
“Neutral Territory” sign posted,
and I remember really hoping
they meant it. Likewise, if it’s a
rowdy, crowded bar with a tight
band space, I have to hope my
gear will survive without getting
knocked over and busted up.
The longer I play, the more
fun fits into my opportunity-cost
evaluation. I’d rather play
for low pay and high fun than
vice-versa. Fun does not necessarily
equate with audience
size, either. If a small audience
is really digging it, I go home
happy. If the music really gels
and I connect with the other
band members, that equals fun.
I remember one bar gig where a
group of exotic dancers stopped
in after work and showed off
some of their talents. Now that
was interesting and fun.
The older I get, the less
patience I have for the hassle factor.
I need more pay from a gig
to drive a couple hours late at
night than I used to. Likewise,
I’m not that enthused about
playing a gig with a big lineup
of bands that requires waiting
around for one, short set that
hardly pays. Hauling heavy PA
gear has lost the appeal it once
had too—just another hassle.
Loud gigs at crowded, noisy
bars—ditto. Give me a club
with good acoustics, an in-house
PA with a pleasant, experienced
sound tech, a roomy stage, and
an appreciative audience. With
all that, I might even think
about paying to play!
Finally, there are the
feel-good
rewards. Sure, these gigs
don’t pay well—or at all. But
the audiences, such as they are,
are happy you’ve come to help
make their benefit a better
event. For the band, there are
the usual gear-hauling hassles
and some inexperienced people
running the show, but it’s
also a chance to try out some
new tunes—or work out the
between-gig rust—in a low-risk
setting. At the end of your set,
you’ll feel that you’ve given
back a little of what you’ve
received over the years. It’s
also possible that an audience
member might talk to you
about a future booking. If you
go into a feel-good gig with a
positive outlook, you’ll reap
the rewards.
So there’s my system for
deciding which gigs to take on
and which ones to let pass. You
might put together a somewhat
different list and weigh the factors
differently. But when you
carefully consider the opportunity
cost of potential gigs
overall, you can take what your
gut tells you and bring it to a
well-reasoned conclusion.
Dan Berkowitz
is a professor by day and
a bassist when the sun
goes down. He plays
upright and electric bass
for blues, jazz, orchestra,
and musical theater.
Contact him at
profdanb@gmail.com.