Thursday, November 03, 2005

When Drummer Means Dumber

I come from the school of "If I do not bother you ... fuck off and don't bother me." I like that school of thought. And I get really pissed off when others try to change my mind.

For years now, there has been a particularly loathsome drummer sullying the shores of Singapore with his half-banged lack of rhythm. Almost all the dancers and musicians have boycotted him because of his phenomenal lack of talent and correspondingly great ego and dishonesty. I think the last real conversation I had with this empty vessel was to tell him I chose never to work with him again and reminded him that while a dancer can always play a piece of drum music, it is pretty sad for a drummer to show a video of a dancer while he performed.

You would have thought that anyone with an ounce of dignity would then hie himself off and avoid me like a malignant plague. But no ... in this case, I think "drummer" is synonymous with "dumber". He had to irritate me and a few other dancers earlier this year with a bitter attempt at condescension which was really a faintly veiled attempt to offload tickets for a concert that he was in. We ignored him after Ser and I told him to bugger off.

I thought that was that until I received a message from someone asking if he could pass my contact number to a person asking for me. I had no clue who it was so I asked politely if they could identify themself. This person replied, "Your favourite percussionist."

Confused, since there really are only a few percussionists in Singapore I consider top class and none of them were so ... forward, I messaged back.

"Wan? Could you tell me who is looking for me or pass me their contact so I can reply please? Thank you and have a good holiday."

The reply was an astounding affirmation that the dumb drummer is a stalker (he once refused to get off the phone even after I hung up and kept calling me every 15 mins) and validated why I found him untalented and unsavoury.

"Oh yeah, sarcasm doesn't travel well by sms. This is your least favourite percussionist but I'll still pass you their number if you want, assuming that doesn't constitute working with me which you don't do."

Alright ... psycho alert. You know I once jokingly told him I did not consider him a male (when we used to work together) because I usually forgot he was around during practice or rehearsals. But this latest mouthing off truly does not make me think any better of him. All I can say is I rolled my eyes and replied, "Thank you for reminding me why I do not work with you. There is no need to forward anything. If they want me, they can find other ways of finding me."

Frankly, if these people were stupid enough to associate with him and to connect me with this git with no class or dignity, I do not want anything to do with them.

Now good riddance to bad music. Lame git.

Categories - Rambling Prose

3 Comments:

Blogger 3A Gurl said...

hah..hah..some people just can't get the msg mah...sometimes you need a power drill to drill a hole through their thick skulls first before pouring the msg in

10:22 am  
Anonymous Nishiko said...

*headdesk*

The English language doesn't have enough words to describe the...glee...of your life, m'dear.

5:56 pm  
Blogger MM said...

ROFL, 3A. Gawd, when I told the girls what MJ had done, they were appalled.

Nishi, tell me about it. It's been a bloody horrible birthday, I can tell you. And ta so much for all your help as I was going through editing hell.

8:38 pm  

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