The Beats Go On

For any professionally driven and/or neurotically habitual
visitor to the NAMM show at the Anaheim Convention Center each
January, the meaning of the term “too long at the fair” is bound to
strike. It might be two days or two hours into the sprawling music
merchants and instrument expo (NAMM = National Association of Music
Merchants). You reach a point where the sheer muchness of the
experience wears on your mental receptors.

Suddenly, you feel like a bumpkin on a first encounter with the
big city, initially dazzled but soon enervated by the multiplicity
of perspectives and values of right and wrong. Is it wrong, for
instance, to ogle the scantily-clad cheesecake gals propped up at
certain booths, in cornball conventioneer fashion? The jury is
out.

On the other hand, there may be no other more democratic forum
in the music world than NAMM, where all manner of music-related
businessfolk gather, from staid Midwestern music retailers, to the
expanding domain of software nerds seeking newer versions, and
sneering rock ’n’ rollers. Music becomes an evermore fragmented
cultural realm, broken up into different demographics, radio
formats, and lifestyle flavors. Here is a rare place where the
gamut meets. No wonder the experience gets dizzying. From the
local-ish contingent, familiar music businesses put out their
shingles. From San Luis Obispo, kitschy-fun Ernie Ball had a
Caddyshack-themed little piece of convention floor real estate,
while SLO’s National Reso-phonic Guitars (i.e., Dobros) and Triplet
Harps held forth with humbler, more unplugged wares in the
downstairs zone.