Many years ago, I was sitting at a table in a restaurant when a beautiful woman came over to me and said
"My God, it's you, isnt it?", to which, quite honestly, I replied "Well yes, it is." We talked of many things, she and I. At first I didnt quite recognise her, but we talked of many things; people, and politics, and art, and movies, and the passing times, and by the end of it I knew that she and I knew one another,long ago, as sure as I knew that somehow somewhere I was going to get her into my bed, when she looked at her watch and said "o god I've got to get going but it's been so good to see you and we must get together again soon let me just give you my phone number , Jim" Or John or Phil. or Steve, I honestly dont remember which. Clearly she thought I was someone else.
This was long before my brief experience with "fame" and all of its concomitant nonsense, and yet all my experiences with "fame" after that left me feeling the same way: that the person recognising the person they thought they were recognising were actually recognising someone entirely other than either myself
or the "famous" person that they thought they were recognising. I always ended up feeling embarrassed
and a little dirty.
I think most of us on this page see the inherent cheesiness of Mr (or Ms) Kravitz exploiting my little gift to those of you who appreciate such little gifts; however it's understandable that where a small profit is to be made that a small entrepreneur might want to make it. However, to cloak that simple and understandable desire in the flag of "spreading the word" (what word?) is as discomfiting and embarrasing as engaging in a long and passionate conversation with someone who thinks you're somebody else.
As a bit of backstory on A Fine Mess:
A Fine Mess was created in the aftermath of the death of a good friend of mine's child, an unfathomable death. Stunned and disconsolate, after returning from a solid week of trying to support the family in an
intolerable time, I found myself in need of a similar support. I called Will Sexton, and David Kitay, and Mike Thompson, and Nick D'Virgilio, and said " I need help, I'm dying, come play folk music with me"
And God bless them, they did. A Fine Mess is a musical wake, committed to tape,
by the sheer accident that I happened to own a recording studio. And around that time my mother discovered this page, and there seemed to be some people on it who wanted some music. The sincerity of the letters and postings deeply touched me. It was around Christmas, and it seemed like a good thing to do, to offer it to those who wanted it. No money was made, or ever meant to be made. It's as simple as that. The simplicity, and the purity, and the amateurism, and the intent of the recordings are as integral to their appeal to me as the purity and simplicity and passion of the postings on this page.
What's his name from Metallica wanted to exploit that purity, and to transform it into something else, for a much larger sum than 150 dollars.
I told him to apply his efforts elsewhere.
Sell this stuff for whatever you can get for it, I'm all for it, and I'm all for free enterprise. But don't pretend to either yourself or to anyone else that it's for anyone's benefit than your own, because it's not. I make a fine and honest living on my own, and if I wanted to hawk myself on a street corner, I'd do so, and I'd spare myself the expense and embarrassment of a pimp.
yrs,
David Baerwald
Recognition, Money,Ebay and etc...
B
Baerwald
(view)
Many years ago, I was sitting at a table in a restaurant when a beautiful woman came over to me and said
"My God, it's you, isnt it?", to which, quite honestly, I replied "Well yes, it is." We talked of many things, she and I. At first I didnt quite recognise her, but we talked of many things; people, and politics, and art, and movies, and the passing times, and by the end of it I knew that she and I knew one another,long ago, as sure as I knew that somehow somewhere I was going to get her into my bed, when she looked at her watch and said "o god I've got to get going but it's been so good to see you and we must get together again soon let me just give you my phone number , Jim" Or John or Phil. or Steve, I honestly dont remember which. Clearly she thought I was someone else.
This was long before my brief experience with "fame" and all of its concomitant nonsense, and yet all my experiences with "fame" after that left me feeling the same way: that the person recognising the person they thought they were recognising were actually recognising someone entirely other than either myself
or the "famous" person that they thought they were recognising. I always ended up feeling embarrassed
and a little dirty.
I think most of us on this page see the inherent cheesiness of Mr (or Ms) Kravitz exploiting my little gift to those of you who appreciate such little gifts; however it's understandable that where a small profit is to be made that a small entrepreneur might want to make it. However, to cloak that simple and understandable desire in the flag of "spreading the word" (what word?) is as discomfiting and embarrasing as engaging in a long and passionate conversation with someone who thinks you're somebody else.
As a bit of backstory on A Fine Mess:
A Fine Mess was created in the aftermath of the death of a good friend of mine's child, an unfathomable death. Stunned and disconsolate, after returning from a solid week of trying to support the family in an
intolerable time, I found myself in need of a similar support. I called Will Sexton, and David Kitay, and Mike Thompson, and Nick D'Virgilio, and said " I need help, I'm dying, come play folk music with me"
And God bless them, they did. A Fine Mess is a musical wake, committed to tape,
by the sheer accident that I happened to own a recording studio. And around that time my mother discovered this page, and there seemed to be some people on it who wanted some music. The sincerity of the letters and postings deeply touched me. It was around Christmas, and it seemed like a good thing to do, to offer it to those who wanted it. No money was made, or ever meant to be made. It's as simple as that. The simplicity, and the purity, and the amateurism, and the intent of the recordings are as integral to their appeal to me as the purity and simplicity and passion of the postings on this page.
What's his name from Metallica wanted to exploit that purity, and to transform it into something else, for a much larger sum than 150 dollars.
I told him to apply his efforts elsewhere.
Sell this stuff for whatever you can get for it, I'm all for it, and I'm all for free enterprise. But don't pretend to either yourself or to anyone else that it's for anyone's benefit than your own, because it's not. I make a fine and honest living on my own, and if I wanted to hawk myself on a street corner, I'd do so, and I'd spare myself the expense and embarrassment of a pimp.
yrs,
David Baerwald
"My God, it's you, isnt it?", to which, quite honestly, I replied "Well yes, it is." We talked of many things, she and I. At first I didnt quite recognise her, but we talked of many things; people, and politics, and art, and movies, and the passing times, and by the end of it I knew that she and I knew one another,long ago, as sure as I knew that somehow somewhere I was going to get her into my bed, when she looked at her watch and said "o god I've got to get going but it's been so good to see you and we must get together again soon let me just give you my phone number , Jim" Or John or Phil. or Steve, I honestly dont remember which. Clearly she thought I was someone else.
This was long before my brief experience with "fame" and all of its concomitant nonsense, and yet all my experiences with "fame" after that left me feeling the same way: that the person recognising the person they thought they were recognising were actually recognising someone entirely other than either myself
or the "famous" person that they thought they were recognising. I always ended up feeling embarrassed
and a little dirty.
I think most of us on this page see the inherent cheesiness of Mr (or Ms) Kravitz exploiting my little gift to those of you who appreciate such little gifts; however it's understandable that where a small profit is to be made that a small entrepreneur might want to make it. However, to cloak that simple and understandable desire in the flag of "spreading the word" (what word?) is as discomfiting and embarrasing as engaging in a long and passionate conversation with someone who thinks you're somebody else.
As a bit of backstory on A Fine Mess:
A Fine Mess was created in the aftermath of the death of a good friend of mine's child, an unfathomable death. Stunned and disconsolate, after returning from a solid week of trying to support the family in an
intolerable time, I found myself in need of a similar support. I called Will Sexton, and David Kitay, and Mike Thompson, and Nick D'Virgilio, and said " I need help, I'm dying, come play folk music with me"
And God bless them, they did. A Fine Mess is a musical wake, committed to tape,
by the sheer accident that I happened to own a recording studio. And around that time my mother discovered this page, and there seemed to be some people on it who wanted some music. The sincerity of the letters and postings deeply touched me. It was around Christmas, and it seemed like a good thing to do, to offer it to those who wanted it. No money was made, or ever meant to be made. It's as simple as that. The simplicity, and the purity, and the amateurism, and the intent of the recordings are as integral to their appeal to me as the purity and simplicity and passion of the postings on this page.
What's his name from Metallica wanted to exploit that purity, and to transform it into something else, for a much larger sum than 150 dollars.
I told him to apply his efforts elsewhere.
Sell this stuff for whatever you can get for it, I'm all for it, and I'm all for free enterprise. But don't pretend to either yourself or to anyone else that it's for anyone's benefit than your own, because it's not. I make a fine and honest living on my own, and if I wanted to hawk myself on a street corner, I'd do so, and I'd spare myself the expense and embarrassment of a pimp.
yrs,
David Baerwald
