tag:ricoliva.com,2005:/blogs/deathBlog2019-02-03T22:35:36-06:00Ric Oliva Musicfalsetag:ricoliva.com,2005:Post/56263092019-02-03T22:35:36-06:002019-02-03T22:35:36-06:00Supporting artists in a digital age<p>My son finally convinced me to get a Spotify subscription and, after a month of using it, I have to say I'm in love. So far they've had everything I've searched for, including my new album "<a contents="Parkers Picnic" data-link-label="Music" data-link-type="page" href="/music">Parkers Picnic</a>." There's plenty of free options in the digital age from the likes of YouTube, Pandora, and Spotify, but I've really enjoyed the added features of the subscription. But, I can't help but feel a little bit guilty that it takes around four thousand streams for an artist to make a single dollar on any one of these platforms. On the one hand, leveling the playing field has made it possible for people like me to share my music with the world instantly for almost no cost without the need of a distribution deal through a major record label. On the other hand, taking away a major revenue stream from artists big and small makes having a music career as anything other than a hobby much more difficult. Even for Indie artists that would burn their own CDs or tapes through the 90s, selling 5,000 units at $15 each out of the trunk of their car could generate some decent cash flow for someone just starting out. Now people almost expect it to be free. Do you have a YouTube page? Are you on Apple Music?</p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/53421/0a3fd2d92a6493f890982bf0e4b442b157d76259/original/img-0406.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg" class="size_s justify_right border_" />So, what do you do? Buy their music. I really enjoy vinyl. As a matter of fact I just bought Liz Phair's self titled album on vinyl. I haven't listened to it yet because I don't think my kids are ready for some of the content, but I will tomorrow! Depending on her record deal, she'll make probably $1-2 off of the sale (a lot of money goes to managers, producers, packaging, artwork, lawyers, cost recoupment by the label, etc) or the equivalent of me listening to it about 800 times, which I probably won't do. I also enjoy having physical artwork in my hand, the smell of new records, actively placing the vinyl on the turntable and flipping sides instead of just passively listening. The presentation of the music, the track order, the artwork, that's all thought out by someone - probably the artist. I heard James Hetfield of Metallica liken it to going into an art gallery. The paintings aren't just randomly placed on the walls. Someone had to sit back and think first this one, then the next, then this one over there. The same goes for the presentation of the music. Some artists are releasing their music on cassette and 8-track now, too! There's also CDs and flash drives and digital downloads. All of these things actually help the artist directly. More than just adding to your streaming playlist. </p>
<p>Trying to be a minimalist and de-clutter and you don't want a bunch of records or CDs laying around? Many artists now have Patreon, Kickstarter, or GoFundMe pages where you can contribute money to them without necessarily getting anything in return. Sort of like giving them a tip just to encourage them to keep going. What else? Go to their shows, buy their merch, tell your friends, like their social media pages. If you'd pay $180 to see Beyonce but are asking your friend to save you the $5 cover charge, I'd ask you to reconsider. I know, I've done the same exact thing. I'm always looking for a bargain. But, when we know better we do better, right? And the singer/songwriter at the local coffee shop would really appreciate four or five people coughing up $15 for their CD, even though we all know it only costs $3 or less to manufacture and all the songs are already on their website to stream for free. That $60 can pay their cell phone bill for the month, and you've already spent that fifteen bucks plus tip on a round of drinks at the bar.</p>
<p>Which brings me to my last point. Where I live it's pretty common to tip at least a dollar per drink when ordering at the bar. Even pop and water. It takes the bartender about 30 seconds to pour you a drink, or grab that beer from the fridge and hand it to you, and their time is worth a dollar. Now, when someone spends years practicing their instrument, whether its guitar, bass, drums, voice, piano, banjo, you name it, and years writing music, then spends months recording, mixing, and producing it, finally releasing it, and you spend hours with that music in your headphones laughing, dancing, singing, crying, to it, what is their time worth? Even if you're already paying for Spotify, Amazon Unlimited, YouTube Red, or Apple Music, is it worth it to you to throw out an extra $10-20 to say, "Thank you. Can I have some more please?"</p>Ric Oliva Musictag:ricoliva.com,2005:Post/38432902015-09-04T20:19:27-05:002018-02-21T05:01:12-06:00Serendipity, or a stroke of bad luck?<div>I haven't written a blog in seven years, but this one was over 20 years in the making and I've wondered whether or not I should post it. Well, here's to the weekend.</div>
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<div>People often say things such as, "everything happens for a reason," "it's all just part of God's plan," or, "there's no such thing as coincidence." I recently saw a meme that said something to the effect of, "I know God will never give me more than I can handle, I just wish some days He didn't have so much faith in me." I am generally of the opinion that most things just happen because they happen and that there's no Grand Scheme. However, sometimes things are just too crazy to think they just happened for no reason at all. Which brings me to Pauline Luke.</div>
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<div>REWIND TO 1994</div>
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<div>Being an introvert, I generally don't have the "I'm up for anything" attitude. However, as a college freshman in a new city, Boston in this case, I knew that my best bet for making new friends in my first few weeks at school were to say "yes" when some guys that lived down the hall from me in the dorm at 150 Mass Ave asked if I wanted to go to the Sick and Twisted Film Festival next weekend. I don't remember the film festival as being so outrageous. If my memory serves me right I think they showed Beavis and Butthead's "Frog Baseball" and another film featuring a character named "No Neck Ned" or something like that. Anyway, I digress. So, there we were in line at the film festival waiting to get in, making small talk with each other and the people around us. Here's where things get a little hazy, so please forgive me if my facts aren't one hundred percent accurate, but at some point the topic came up, like it usually does when a bunch of college kids are mulling around, of what school everyone went to.</div>
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<div>Me: "Berklee."<br>Girl: "Berklee? That's so cool [I made that part up] I'm going to a concert there in October."<br>Me: "Really, which one?"<br>Girl: "Al DiMeola!"</div>
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<div>WHAT?!? Are you kidding me? The question I want to ask you, the reader, is if you have any idea of who Al DiMeola is. If you don't, go ahead and do a search for him on YouTube and Google and then come back to this in a couple of hours when you're finished. If you do know who Al DiMeola is then you understand how rare it would be to randomly be standing in line next to an 18 year old college girl that not only knows DiMeola's music, but bought a ticket to his concert that is happening in less than a month. If you know anything about Berklee and the type of people that go there, you also know how awesome it would be, especially as a guitar player, to run into said 18 year old college girl in your first month at school. Meet Pauline Luke.</div>
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<div>Remember, we're in 1994. There are no smart phones. Email is basically non-existent. The only way to get a hold of someone is to either know their phone number or their parent's phone number. Also remember, I am an introvert. "Wow, that's awesome! I'll see you there." Ugh... No game... No game whatsoever...</div>
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<div>
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/53421/f0bfc1dbd1689748e174b8e47664f93db0b95972/medium/frame.jpg?1441418562" class="size_m justify_right border_none" alt="" />A few weeks later, there I am at the concert thinking, "hmm... I know she said she'd be here, but there's no sign of her." Just then, I hear "Hey Rick [I'll use my spelling from 1994]." I turn and look and who could it be? You guessed it, Pauline Luke. "Wow! So great to see you. Where are you sitting? Over there, awesome... Well hey, would you like to hang out sometime? Umm... Yeah, here, write your number down on this piece of paper and I'll call you..." Pauline writes down her name and number and hands it back.</div>
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<div>The concert was great. Afterwards I didn't see Pauline, but I had her number, so it didn't matter. I actually waited out back for Al to leave so I could get an autograph. After about an hour or so there were only three of us left waiting so the security guard brought us backstage and introduced us to Al. I got his autograph on my concert ticket and he also gave me a guitar pick. What a night! I got a girl's number and I had the opportunity to meet a legendary guitarist. I was on cloud nine. Within the next few days I got the autograph and pick framed with a picture of DiMeola and hung it on my wall. It was a trophy, and I was proud to have it there. Now, what did I do with that number?</div>
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<div>Are you kidding me? The number. Where was it? I looked everywhere. High and low. All of my pockets. Under my desk. In my guitar cases. In the trash. Everywhere. This can't be happening. I knew she went to Boston University, but there was no Facebook or Myspace, and there was like 50,000 people there. I ran into a couple of people that thought they might know her through a friend of a friend, but I never reconnected with her. When I say never, I mean never. Not once in college, not once after.</div>
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<div>FAST FORWARD TO THE NEAR PRESENT DAY [about 5-10 years ago, but I don't really remember exactly]</div>
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<div>I'm married, have a couple of kids and a dog, have been teaching guitar and performing with bands for years and years and years. I'm starting to let my private lesson business wane because I'm working at McNally Smith College of Music and I just don't have time to spend teaching private lessons at my studio down the street and maintain work/life balance at home. I decide to close up the studio and teach out of my house. My studio was a 10x10 room at Nechville Music Products. Tom Nechville makes the best banjos in the world. I'm just saying. Anyway, one wall of my studio was what I called my wall of fame. I had autographs from Dream Theater, Adrian Smith from Iron Maiden, Chick Corea, Bobby McFerrin, Tuck & Patti, Arturo Sandoval, and you guessed it - Al DiMeola. I took a lot of care taking each of those picture frames down from the wall, one by one. Placing them in a box, stacking them neatly so the glass wouldn't break, when all of a sudden - CRASH!</div>
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<div>My Al DiMeola frame falls off the wall. Ugh. No broken glass. Good. The back just fell off. No problem. Grab the picture and put it back in the frame face down. Grab the pick, oh wait, the pick has to go in first, duh. Take out he picture and put in the pick. Grab the ticket. Autograph still looks good. Well, I need to turn it over face down so the front is touching the glass. Hold on, what's that on the back of the ticket?</div>
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<div>
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/53421/f8f1248436bc25cac634440d65b6732bda54606e/medium/ticket.jpg?1441418553" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><br><br>Is this some kind of cosmic joke? Or, is it just pure coincidence? Serendipity, or just a stroke of bad luck? Why was that the only frame to fall off the wall? Had it not fallen off the wall that day the question as to what happened to Pauline Luke's phone number would most likely still be unanswered. But why answer it at all? And why, after all these years, did I still remember the circumstances of this story? I recently searched her name on Facebook and I think I found her. I don't really think there's a whole lot I would say to her if we did talk again, I mean really I only knew her for about 5 minutes in college, so why does it even matter? But that's the strange thing, for some reason it does matter This was a huge event in my life. The first girl I got a number from in college, and then I lost it! I bet most people don't remember the first number they got in college. So, maybe that's what makes this story so unique. I got the number and really did have every intention of calling, but shit happens. Maybe it was never meant to be. Maybe it's just part of God's plan. Maybe this event is the impetus for me writing more blog posts. Maybe. Maybe not.<br><br>In conclusion, all I really would like to say if I every were to talk to her again, if she even remembered me, is "sorry for not calling, but you will not believe what happened!"</div>Ric Oliva Musictag:ricoliva.com,2005:Post/618972008-11-13T10:20:00-06:002008-11-13T10:20:00-06:00Death pt IINearly a year ago I wrote a blog talking about how a close call with a television and a dresser really hit home the fact that life can be over in the blink of an eye. Tuesday evening I found out my Aunt Gliceria was brutally murdered in her home in Cuba by a long time family friend. This time there was no close call. Just a tragic ending.<br><br>
At first I wanted to know why, but why doesn't matter. "Why" won't bring her back. If I knew "why" would I even care? Regardless of the reason there is no justification. "Why" is nothing.<br><br>
So once again Life leaves me with this lesson. The same lesson that gets repeated over and over and over again. The same lesson I'm about to share with you not because you haven't heard it before but because that's what we do when these things happen. <br><br>
We don't know how much time we have left. Make sure to make the most of every minute of every day. Everyone dies sometime, but not everyone truly lives. Make sure the people you love know you love them. <br><br>
If I haven't said it before and if I don't say it again always know that "I love you".<br><br>
The End<br>Ric Oliva Musictag:ricoliva.com,2005:Post/618962008-01-21T08:15:00-06:002008-01-21T08:15:00-06:00I'm no activist but...It's funny how people will often say in the debate over same sex marriage that even if they're allowed to marry, or cohabitate, or be 'domestic partners', that they shouldn't have kids either through artificial insemination or adoption. It's funny because they'll go on how other kids will tease them, and how will they explain to their friends that they have two moms, or two dads? Probably the same way I had to explain to certain people in my life who said "I feel sorry for Rick (that was my name back then), because he doesn't really fit in with white people OR black people". Fortunately for me I just wanted to have "good" friends, and it didn't matter what color they were and I was able to "fit in" with just about everybody. Oh sure, I got made fun of. Half-breed. Oreo. Whegro. That last one is kinda funny. But you get the idea. My great-aunt (my mom's aunt, that's my great-aunt, right?) told my grandma that it was horrible her daughter was going to marry a black man and for God's sake they better not have any children because think of how hard it will be on them!<br><br>
Forty years ago when my parents got married the United States was in the middle of the Civil Rights movement. Back then many people felt what they were doing was absolutely disgusting. Some people still do. But don't use the kids as an excuse to further your own bigotry. I mean really, is the most important criteria for being good parents the fact that one has a ding dong and the other has a vajayjay? I hear stories all the time of hetero parents who physically and sexually abuse their kids, neglect them, lock them in cages, drown them in bath tubs, and get married to Britny Spears (I hope she gets some counselling).<br><br>
So I guess if you hate gay people, fine, hate gay people. But don't pretend it's in the best interest of the kids because trust me, the kids will be fine. You'll just have to find another excuse.<br>Ric Oliva Musictag:ricoliva.com,2005:Post/618932007-11-21T03:50:00-06:002018-11-13T21:35:36-06:00DeathIt's amazing how some people can live to a hundred and others die before they really even have a chance at life. There are constant reminders all around us how we, or the people we love, can be gone in the blink of an eye. These reminders come in many forms. It may be an article in a magazine, a headline in the newspaper, a report on the radio, or even something as seemingly mundane as a talk show. There are also reminders every day of a higher power. We may choose to ignore these signs, but every now and then an event makes us acutely aware of their existence.<br><br>
It wasn't long ago I was watching Montel (yes, when you have two boys you resort to such things when you've had enough of Dragon Tales and Spongebob) and they were talking about a little girl who climbed up on top of a dresser and knocked it over on top of herself and died. They said if it had a strap holding it to the wall this could have been avoided. I told myself that was a great idea. I should do that because Alex (my 3 year old) likes to climb on top of his bookshelf and dresser. I made a note to myself that I would go to the store and get some safety straps. <br><br>
Well, time went on and I put it off. He'd climb on the dresser and I'd tell him to get down, and that it wasn't safe, and then I'd remind myself to get those straps and shortly thereafter I'd forget. Then it would happen again and I'd tell myself I need to go to the store and get the straps but I'd forget again.<br><br>
CHAPTER 2<br><br>
My new house (well, I've been there two years but I still call it my new house) has a bigger master bedroom than my old house. So much bigger that Jenny and I decided to get all new bedroom furniture when we moved in. Immediately after getting the new furniture we realized that it wasn't so much that our new bedroom wasn't so big, our old bedroom was just really small. We have talked about getting rid of the new furniture for smaller furniture so we can actually walk around our bed. We have a TV in our bedroom. It has a built-in DVD player. <br><br>
I was brushing my teeth yesterday and Alex decided he wanted to watch Thomas [the Tank Engine]. Alex, trying to show his independence, decided he didn't need to ask for Daddy's help. He could do it all by himself. I was brushing my teeth when I heard the crash. I looked out from the bathroom and could see immediately what had happened. See, the TV is on top of my dresser. To get to it Alex had opened the bottom two drawers and used them as a ladder. His weight tipped the dresser over on top of him, TV and all.<br><br>
A MIRACLE IN THE FORM OF UNDERESTIMATED SQUARE FOOTAGE AND OVERSIZED BEDROOM FURNITURE<br><br>
Remember how I said we could barely walk around our bed? We have a sleigh style frame and when the dresser tipped it was stopped by the corner of the foot of it. The space was so tight the drawers didn't even come out. The TV flew right over the top of his head and get this - landed on a pillow. Alex was cradled, screaming on the ground between the TV and dresser. Not a scratch on him. Through his tears he just kept saying "I just wanted to see Thomas. I just wanted to see Thomas." The TV is fine. We watched Thomas for an hour. I also stopped at Home Depot and got saftey straps for all of my dressers and bookshelves.<br>Ric Oliva Musictag:ricoliva.com,2005:Post/618952007-10-12T10:40:00-05:002007-10-12T10:40:00-05:00PukeI meant to write this a couple of weeks ago but I kept forgetting. So here goes. <br><br>
Those of you with children can understand this. Babies spit up milk all the time. It's disgusting. Certain formula smells worse than others, but sometimes you don't have a choice. The Dr. says use Nutramigen, then by golly you're kicking out the $25 a can because it's the only thing that will make your baby stop crying. $25 for piece of mind isn't so bad. But this blog isn't about spit up, it's about puke. Alex puked for the first time 2 weeks ago. Spit up is white. Puke is purple. And orange. And red. And it has carrots in it. And rice... And crackers and popscicles and chicken... No matter how bad your baby's formula smells, a toddler's puke takes it to a whole new level. And when you know your toddler is about to blow chunks and you have him leaning over the toilet, you forget that a 3 year old doesn't understand what is about to happen. So he turns and says "daddy?" in that voice where you know they're scared even though they shouldn't be. But wait, he turns! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! And you grab his head as fast as you can to turn it 180 degrees BACK to the toilet! But it's too late. You only make it half way... And the puke flies and hits the wall, and the towels, and the AC vent, and it gets stuck inside the AC vent, and it soaks the basket of TP you have sitting so elegantly displayed (well as elegantly as ass wiping paper can be displayed), and the smell hits you. Immediately you feel your own stomache start to purge. But you're an adult, and you know that you have to suck it up and endure. Now is not the time to blow chunks of your own. At this point you have the head pointing in the right direction and your childs stomache purges again, and again, and again. Finally coming to a close. Bathroom covered in puke you walk him to the sink to rinse his mouth, brush his teeth, take the little guy to his room where you've placed a TV so he can wash Monsters, Inc for the 73rd time. He laughs and says "spit up like baby?" Yes, Alex. Spit up like baby...not quite...but it makes him feel better to know it's no big deal. For him anyway. Now you have the task of cleaning the walls, and taking apart the AC vent and cleaning the puke from between the slats, and throwing out the TP that was so elegantly displayed. And you lose your own appetite. For two days. Just thinking of it makes me want to hurl. So I better stop before I make myself sick. <br><br>
Just thought I'd share.<br>Ric Oliva Musictag:ricoliva.com,2005:Post/618942007-09-15T10:00:00-05:002007-09-15T10:00:00-05:00Tony OlivaSo last night my dad was honored at the Latin American Heritage Foundation Gala. The evening began with a trio playing Latin American music and my dad mingling with and signing autographs for the guests who had arrived. Dinner started with a salad covered with strawberries and strawberry vinagarette dressing followed by pork (which I don't eat but I did anyway) covered in cooked apples. Dessert was strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate mousse. So far, so good. No big deal. Nothing I hadn't seen before.<br><br>
Side note - A funny moment occurred before dinner when I went to order a Corona at the bar. They didn't have any! I said "what?!? This is the Latin American Heritage Foundation Gala and you don't have Corona? Do you have Tequilla?" So I guess the bartender told the powers that be that "Tony Oliva's grandson wants Corona and since this is a Latin American deal we better get it!" Well, I'm not his grandson - I'm his son, but within 20 minutes I had a cold Corona with a lime at my table. I guess there are perks to this role. Anyway, back to my story.<br><br>
What happened after dinner was more of the same. Slide shows and videos that I had seen a hundred times before, but what happened next was completely different. See, I've heard my dad be introduced to audiences before, and they talk about what a great baseball player he was and how he's so good for the community and blah blah blah, but the promoter of this event went up to the mic and said "I'm not going to talk about Tony Oliva tonight. I'm going to let YOU talk about Tony Oliva tonight. I'm going to walk around this audience and if you have a story to share please do so. That's when I realized that these people were here because of my dad. Not just because their company they worked for bought them a ticket, or because they wanted a reason to go out, but to show their love and support of him. One man who seemed to be in his early twenties got up and said "you know, I've only met Tony twice in my life, and I've probably talked to him for a half an hour, and he makes me feel like I could talk to him all night if I wanted to. He isn't so untouchable like a lot of the other professional athletes around." And young woman from US Bank stood up and said she was inspired by his story. She was from South America and was going through what he went through when he first came to America. She didn't have any friends or family here, she came for opportunity, and he made her feel like she could succeed too. And the stories kept coming.<br><br>
The final part of the night was what really surprised me. You know when you go to a concert and you see your favorite band and they somehow look larger than life? I've seen Prince in concert a couple of times, and he really isn't very tall, but his personality is huge. I was at the MOA one time and Black Sabbath was walking through, and they just had this air about them that they were somebody special. Last night was the first time that ever happened for me with my dad. When he walked up to the podium in his best suit and tie, he just seemed to tower over the room. It was the first time I had ever seen him as a celebrity. He was one of those people that you knew was important just by how they carried themself. His message was simple and clear. "People think I'm crazy because I talk to everybody. I talk to girls, I talk to boys, I talk to old ladies, I talk to little kids, I even talk to dogs. One of my best friends in Cuba was a cow! When you go to work you have to choose your attitude. Sometimes it's hard to go to work and be positive but it doesn't cost you anything to say 'hi' to someone and make them happy. My biggest inspiration is my parents. I had 9 brothers and sisters and I watched how hard they would work to make sure we had food, and clothing, and a place to live. And they did it by working together. If we all work together we can succeed. If you have kids, tell them to go to school, and do something! I love Cuba, but this is the greatest country in the world because of the opportunities that are here and they've opened their doors for us. Go out and be somebody."<br><br>
It was all the same inspirational speaker talk I had heard before, but for the people in the room they were hearing it from a legend, an icon, their hero. My hero. And I know that it touched their hearts and this experience will stay with them forever. I know it will with me.<br>Ric Oliva Music