Tim Eckert's job requires a light touch and a measure of heavy lifting. As a workaday classical musician, he lugs a 40-pound double bass from downtown Los Angeles to Century City to Azusa and points in between.
In the most reductionist terms, I am paid to come in with my bass and play these notes. We are the laborers. I couldn't survive on just this.
Bassist Tim Eckert
Eckert's routine illustrates how the business of producing beautiful sounds can play out as a dissonant mix of art and toil: major scales versus wage scales. For all its intrinsic rewards -- Eckert loves what he does -- his vocation comes down to a fretful chase of elusive paydays, each demanding a level of excellence here that might be unsurpassed in the tuneful world.
Lately, the gigging has only gotten tougher. Eckert and his colleagues say they must contend with an influx of talent from as far away as New York and Europe and Asia, a growing crop of younger competitors from L.A.'s ever-improving academies and increasing use of canned music onstage and in television.
“We have tremendous numbers of members who are absolutely struggling," said Leslie Lashinsky, a veteran bassoonist who is secretary-treasurer of the L.A. musicians union. “Even very prestigious musicians are hard-pressed to make ends meet."
Eckert, 39, counts himself among the fortunate. He holds one of the few “tenured" orchestra positions in the region, as the fifth-chair bassist for the Los Angeles Opera. That assures him a spot in the pit whenever the opera needs at least five basses.
