Well, I still don't have a damn cable for my camera. No pictures yet. It's a long walk to the Target down the street, but I'm kind of getting used to walking. I probably walked 5 miles today, maybe more. It's probably a quarter mile just from one end of the show to the other.
So here's my surreal NAMM moment for today. It's the kind of bizarre thing that only happens - for me, anyway - at NAMM.
I'm sitting outside near the John Lennon bus. It's a mobile studio they use to suck innocent children into a life of music, financed by the very vampires who will then sell them all the stuff they'll be taught to lust for.
I have lost track of the person I'm supposed to meet for lunch. I am hungry, and eying the taco stand with the full knowledge that eating there would be a regrettable decision (because I'd done it last year) but feeling weak in the knees from having only coffee for breakfast. But I digress.
So I'm sitting near the John Lennon bus reading product literature from AEA. The AEA guy, I believe the founder of the company, wearing a top hat and sandals and looking to be in his 70's and looking like he'd be a cool guy to hang out with, gives me some show swag, including an AEA mouse pad that I'm using right now. They are the coolest-looking mics and they sound really good, too. I got to try them all out. But again I digress.
I am sitting near the John Lennon bus entirely focused on trying to plug in the USB cable that Willy had given me into the camera, but it won't fit. Maybe I'm putting it in upside-down. Maybe that's not the USB port. Hunger has starved my brain of blood sugar and I'm cursing my short-term memory for forgetting to bring the damn cable in the first place. Finally, I decide it's too nice a day - 100% blue sky, mid-70's - and stash the camer and light a stogie.
Then I noticed a commotion nearby. A few feet away there is a platoon of beefy goons in black, obviously heavyweight security, standing in a semicircle. A crowd of people has surrounded them. This caught my attention, as it is unusual, even at a strange event like NAMM.
You see, rock stars are a dime a dozen at NAMM (and in LA generally) and
none of them have bodyguards. The somewhat jaded showgoers pretty much leave them in peace. So I'm wondering what kind of megastar comes to the show with a large entourage of goons. Must be somebody of major importance, so I decide to wait around and see who it is, maybe take a picture to post here - assuming I find a damn cable.
I notice that some of the crowd are obviously paparazzi, with the kind of serious photographic gear you normally see at sporting events. One of them walks by me, turns and asks "is she still on the bus?". I reply that I have no clue who "she" is, so he walks on, not considering that I might want to know too. And now my curiosity has been piqued. These guys have obviously scheduled their
day around this event. Who could this mystery celeb be? Rock royalty, surely. Britney? Hanna Montana? As I said, my curiosity had been
piqued.
While I'm waiting, some genuine superstars come by - Jackson Browne and Quincy Jones - and I snap their pictures. Both are gracious and accommodating, signing autographs and letting people have pictures taken with them. Browne wouldn't sign one guy's album, which pissed the fellow off and he began berating JB and telling him that sure, the album was destined immediately for ebay if he'd sign it, but it was JB's patriotic duty to help the California economy. JB wasn't buying it, but he kept smiling and shaking hands. I thought: good for him. A rock star with principles.
Mr. Jones is the classy gentleman you'd expect him to be, smiling genuinely, letting strangers put their arm around him for photos, and signing anything they stuck in his face. Personally, I wouldn't do that. I'd at least use a fake signature. Maybe he does.
After a few minutes, JB and QJ split on one of those carts they haul old people around on at the airport, leaving the crowd in an excited state.
More dark-suited goons show up, with earpieces like secret service agents - but clearly not SS agents because they're yakking about sports and look bored. Pros for sure, but more like Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard, that kind of pro. One of them, apparently like the head goon, sizes me up and decides I'm just another show geek and do not pose a threat. Good thing, because I already had a prepared speech about how this was a free country and dammit I can sit anywhere I please. Luckily, I did not have an opportunity to test the efficacy of that speech.
Finally, the door of the bus opens up and out steps the superstar. I can see why she has a platoon of mercenaries surrounding her, because the crowd looks like they want to do something dangerous, like crush her. And she is just this little old Japanese lady, looking very vulnerable at the center of a mob.
Of course, as you've probably guessed, it was Yoko Ono. Indeed, the most famous little old Japanese lady on the planet.
What a scene. The crowd is shouting her name. Some are begging for her to sign albums. No kidding, they held collector-quality
Yoko Ono albums out. Who
are these people? And where did they find those albums?
This was the first time I'd ever seen this kind of celebrity-worship frenzy up close. It was kind of disgusting and kind of scary. If I were her, I would have hired a goon platoon, too.
Yoko smiled with that Queen-in-a-parade kind of vacant, practiced smile and was hustled quickly into the limo. Fans continued to shout her name and beg her to roll down the window even as the car pulled away.
The entire scene lasted maybe 30 seconds. It was pure happenstance that I wound up in the middle of it, but most of those other people had been waiting for hours for that moment. I wondered where they went after that. Perhaps to stalk some other celeb.
Photos to follow...
post edited by bitflipper - 2010/01/15 03:34:47