Real Music & Real Estate . . .

Yiddishe Cup’s bandleader, Bert Stratton, is Klezmer Guy.

He knows about the band biz and – check this out – the real estate biz too. So maybe he’s really Klezmer Landlord.

You may not care about the real estate biz. Hey, you may not care about the band biz. (See you.)

This is a blog with a gamy twist. It features tenants with snakes and skunks, and musicians with smoked fish in their pockets.

Stratton has written op-eds for the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and Washington Post.



At the cushy, soft-seat auditorium gigs, Yiddishe Cup gets “green room” meals and people ask for our autographs.  At country club weddings, we enter through kitchens and are often treated like crumb bums.

Country club managers have thankless jobs.  They are either dishing out vitriol to the help, or receiving it from the members.

If you’re paying the county club manager, you’re golden.  If you’re not paying the manager, you’re not.  Everybody knows his or her place in a country club.  Except the musicians.

The musicians, in the hierarchy of wedding gigs, think they’re machers — a notch above the kitchen help, florist, photographer, video guy, and even the club members.

Nobody else sees it that way.

My drummer—number two—said he was a “professional” whenever club managers and party planners pestered him.  He had a PhD in music. He could take that PhD  “down the hall, turn left, make a right” . . . and use the storage room there.
2 of 2 posts for 7/22/09

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