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I have to say a few words about Robbie, the piano player at the piano bar I go to.
Digression: In my wayward youth, I briefly worked the children's party circuit, for an entertainment company. We'd go to the party and set up; the tech people would do their techie things, the dancers would do a show... and I'd be in The Booth. There was a video camera there, which I'd operate, as this or that parent would drag their wayward child over. A smile congealing on my face, I'd videotape Junior's antics (including, on one memorable occasion, throwing up); if the parent in question was particularlysadistic inspired, they'd get their little one to sing (we had karaoke versions of several songs available). I'd be sitting there, trying to catch the eye of some merciful drink-bearing friend, and the kid in question would wail away, almost inevitably losing pitch, or lyrics, or both, clowning around as though they were being amusing. End of digression, but we'll return to this. Now, about Robbie:
1) He's good at what he does- not only does he have an excellent repertoire (including some woefully unfortunate choices; someone- not me!- facetiously requested "Music Box Dancer" once, and it's been wandering through his performances ever since), but he knows how to pace an evening; he smoothly covers the occasional fluffed lyric, and can feed lines, repeat musical intros, or transpose keys as needed.
2) He's damn near unflappable- even the occasional MTM popping up (once, in his tip jar) occasions nothing more than a laugh.
3) He can be persuaded to learn songs, if you provide sheet music and/or a tape *happy smile*
4) He's good at what he does, and damn near unflappable while doing it. Remember those clowning infants? Well, someone inflated one of them into six feet of drunken, braying jackass, suffering under the woefully mistaken impression that he was (intentionally) amusing, as he clutched onto the guest singer mike, staggering his mistaken way through the wrong lyrics of far, far too many songs.
Robbie took it smoothly at first, feeding him lyrics in an attempt to gently guide him back to something approaching the correct verse; no soap. He- the drunk- kept right on through subsequent numbers, occasionally putting the mike back on its stand (backward), then lunging for it again, at one point holding it in front of Robbie's face (Robbie has his own mike). Robbie, a true pro, simply smiled and said, "Thanks- I've got my own." By this point, most of the people I knew there had fled shrieking into the night; I'd have joined them, but![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
artemitis had shown up, and I couldn't abandon her to this horror.
This went on for almost half an hour (when he finally left, the reaction of the bar was one of relief/applause/shocked disbelief), but Robbie never faltered (although at one point, when said audience member was threatening to slosh his way through "Piano Man," he did say "Hey, this is about me- why don't I sing it?" through smiling, clenched teeth). A true pro, he is.
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Digression: In my wayward youth, I briefly worked the children's party circuit, for an entertainment company. We'd go to the party and set up; the tech people would do their techie things, the dancers would do a show... and I'd be in The Booth. There was a video camera there, which I'd operate, as this or that parent would drag their wayward child over. A smile congealing on my face, I'd videotape Junior's antics (including, on one memorable occasion, throwing up); if the parent in question was particularly
1) He's good at what he does- not only does he have an excellent repertoire (including some woefully unfortunate choices; someone- not me!- facetiously requested "Music Box Dancer" once, and it's been wandering through his performances ever since), but he knows how to pace an evening; he smoothly covers the occasional fluffed lyric, and can feed lines, repeat musical intros, or transpose keys as needed.
2) He's damn near unflappable- even the occasional MTM popping up (once, in his tip jar) occasions nothing more than a laugh.
3) He can be persuaded to learn songs, if you provide sheet music and/or a tape *happy smile*
4) He's good at what he does, and damn near unflappable while doing it. Remember those clowning infants? Well, someone inflated one of them into six feet of drunken, braying jackass, suffering under the woefully mistaken impression that he was (intentionally) amusing, as he clutched onto the guest singer mike, staggering his mistaken way through the wrong lyrics of far, far too many songs.
Robbie took it smoothly at first, feeding him lyrics in an attempt to gently guide him back to something approaching the correct verse; no soap. He- the drunk- kept right on through subsequent numbers, occasionally putting the mike back on its stand (backward), then lunging for it again, at one point holding it in front of Robbie's face (Robbie has his own mike). Robbie, a true pro, simply smiled and said, "Thanks- I've got my own." By this point, most of the people I knew there had fled shrieking into the night; I'd have joined them, but
artemitis had shown up, and I couldn't abandon her to this horror.This went on for almost half an hour (when he finally left, the reaction of the bar was one of relief/applause/shocked disbelief), but Robbie never faltered (although at one point, when said audience member was threatening to slosh his way through "Piano Man," he did say "Hey, this is about me- why don't I sing it?" through smiling, clenched teeth). A true pro, he is.
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