A fretless banjo picker has a hard life in many ways. One problem that ranks pretty high on the list is getting an audience that doesn't consist only of other banjo players. How can I put it? The instrument does not tend to stand alone. So it is good to have a guitar player up there, to pick or sing something when the audience gets tired of hearing the fretless, which I have found is pretty quick.
But guitar players are a problem themselves. There is a basic lack of communication. A backup guitar should be able to improvise — shift rapidly between musical ideas, and even time signatures. If I put in an extra beat into a measure, or leave one or two out, well hey, flow with the yin and yang. And of course they never want to wait while you retune. Plus they have in general a superior attitude.
The first guitar player I had was an engineer. I think she specialized in air brakes. Well, I was part of the usual odd instruments contingent at an arts & crafts wingding and some guys were there to record this important event, for some reason, and they had a brand new Studer A807 Mk II professional tape recorder, and they couldn't get it to work and couldn't get it to work, so finally my guitar player says, Pick it up about four inches off the ground, and drop it. This thing must have been worth $4000! But they did it, and it worked. So of course everybody there was pretty enthusiastic about the guitar player, shouting out sayings like It takes an engineer.
So when we get up there, she's busy grinning at the audience and making remarks and so on, and for all you know I wasn't even there, and I am supposed to be the player. Now we had always rehearsed sitting down, but when it's my turn to play, at the last minute she decides to stand up. So I'm sitting down and she's standing a little behind me, so I can't see her very well. That was a bad sign right there.
Anyway first I check my tuning. Then when I get it tuned of course I kill a little time explaining what is a fretless banjo and why this one doesn't sound like Frank Sinatra. It's lunch time and the guitar player is probably looking bored and people start to drift away, leaving two. So then we start playing and I suddenly remember I have the fretless and I don't do Green Fields of America on the fretless (in fact I doubt that it has ever been done). So I turn around and with my mouth I signal Possum Up a Gum Stump and she nods. It wasn't very smooth modulating from Green Fields of America into Possum Up a Gum Stump but I figured, audiences, what do they know.
When we start playing again not too much time goes by before we realize that we are in different keys. What key she is in, I don't know. I don't care either. G, I say. She says Oh yeah. We start to play again and she realizes she's not in any kind of tune because she was so busy with the tape recorder that she didn't think about tuning. I'm picking away and I don't notice that she's out of tune, and of course I can't see her without turning way around and to tell you the truth, I don't hear her very well either. Suddenly I feel something hit me on the back of the head. She didn't exactly whap me with her guitar; she just sorta turned a little and it hit me on the back of the head and got my attention. So I looked at her. She says Wait. Wait! Here I am tearing into Possum Up a Gum Stump and just getting warmed up and she says Wait.
But I stop playing and grin like the good natured guy I am, and we lose the two audience we got. But we finally did play a few tunes, and we picked up two more, plus the two guys with the tape recorder are still there. I found out later that the guys with the tape recorder were people from the university doing research. On what, I don't want to know.
Guitar players. You can't live with 'em and you know the rest. When we got back in the car I gave her a look and asked her why at the last minute she decided to play standing up. She pointed out that there was only one chair and I was already in it. You can't fool these engineers.