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| (sigh) just noticed what all these stories have in common: drummers, women or both :) |
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Location: Colorado Rocky Mountains | Another true story from my theater days. I'm the hired choreographer for a Gilbert and Sullivan opera (the Mikado) put on by the Colorado Symphony Orchestra and Central City Opera. I'm also part of the stage chorus/ensemble. This is a big union production costing well into six digits. Opening night, a male member of ensemble who I cast but with whom I had no prior experience (always a risk), feints on stage during the finale of Act I. A fellow cast members sees him going down, grabs his arm and props him up during the final stanzas, then carries him off arm-in-arm, the guy completely unconscious. During intermission, he is rushed to a hospital in an ambulance and we never hear from again. The costume and wig people are frantic chasing down their rented stuff because it costs a fortune. Meanwhile, I meet with the on-stage ensemble during intermission and rechoreograph all the dance numbers in the second half, making a trio out of his now abandoned patner and one other couple, then repositioning them essentially to upstage center of every number. With crossed fingers and a ton of prayers, it worked and we left it that way for the rest of the production. |
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Location: Orlando, FL | My first paying gig was playing at a local dinner theater. I was one third of the orchestra for a 6 week run of Bye Bye Birdie. The Musical director/pianist, and a girl drummer rounded out the orchestra. I played guitar on a few songs and bass on a couple of others. I was in high school at the time and I borrowed money to buy a nice used fender precision bass and played my one pickup Melody Maker.
It was a really fun gig. During this same time some friends and I rented a storage unit we dubbed "the lizard room" to jam (and party) in. We crammed a lot of amps and gear into that space. It was located in an industrial area and we played any and all hours without having the cops called on us.
One afternoon we were jamming and getting stoned in the Lizard Room and it turned into one of those wonderful volume battles. "Hey I can't hear, I'm turning up!" "Oh yeah? My Peavy is louder than your Ampeg!" Hey, we were kids, I've seen adults do this! When we were done I couldn't hear out of my left ear. This scared the crap out of me!
I did not make a habit of getting stoned before my Theater gig, but I was still really feeling it when I got to work. Both my amp and Nelson were to my left. I was playing bass on my first song of the evening and I was screwing up my part. Nothing too major, but definitely noticeable. Nelson was shooting me dirty looks, and I was getting really nervous. I did okay after that first song, but Nelson kept giving me the stink eye! At the end of the first act, Nelson steps over and says, Turn your amp up I can't hear you at all. The other two acts went fine and I never got stoned before work again.
My hearing gradually came back over a 2 or 3 day period. But from then out I kept ear plugs with me for when things got out of hand. |
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Location: San Francisco, CA | Well, my worst gig is quite easy to remember...
Around 20 yrs or so ago our Classic Oldies band had an evening gig about two miles from my home. It was a nighttime, indoor affair that was to be a pretty standard gig for us.
It was raining like hell outside and pitch dark when my buddy finally showed up at my home to give me a ride to the gig. He was really late and I was pissed at him. Needless to say, he ran out of gas several blocks from the gig and that's when things started to REALLY go bad...
I somehow managed to lug my guitar, '66 Fender Super Reverb amp, pedals and parts all in one beastly trip to the venue. Wouldn't you know that since it was pitch dark and raining a torrent, I never saw the HUGE pile of dogcrap in the grass I was walking across!
Yep, I fell down, dumped my gear, and got the stuff all over my gear, pants,... you get the picture.
After I gathered myself and gear up again, I walked in the back door to the stage and the band was just getting ready to start. They were pissed at me for being so late, then took one look at me and said, "You look like s..." Then the bass player said, "You SMELL like s...!"
Everyone (including me) was totally grossed out by the odor I was omitting. I made it to the first break and the restroom for a partial cleanup and finished the gig.
Of course, the guy who hired us allowed as how I smelled and looked disgusting and that he wasn't going to pay us. Our bass player (who bore a striking resemblance to The Undertaker of WWF fame) immediately lifted him by the neck, pinned him against the wall, and asked him how he felt about the prospect of picking his teeth up off the floor.
We were paid, in full, immediately.
It was a night from hell.
6 |
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Location: Colorado Rocky Mountains | Great story, 6! |
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Location: NJ | not exactly a gig but a reheasal
As most of you know I have dealing instruments almost all of my adult life.
at one point when I am in college I am looking to upgrade my gibson lg0 it was the one with the plastic bridge and I really did not like the guitar that much although it was lightweight and had a pretty good sound.
In the paper I see a Martin D 35 advertised for $284.17 . I kid you not. that was the exact price. I thought wow this is insane and the price is right so let me call this guy.
The guy's name was L**** and when I got him on the phone he talked non stop for about 40 minutes. it was the late 70's so the conversation was peppered with a ton of mans, and cools, and far outs etc etc etc. He finally gave me directions. remember no gps or cell phones back then.
I got to the house and it was an old victorian build in the late 1800's it was divided into apartments and L had the first floor. Typical hippie crash pad. The US flag over the window as a curtain, mattress on the floor, bean bag chair, shelves made out of 2 x 12s and cinder blocks.
the girlfriend greats me at the door in a flowing peasant dress, no bra see through top and was really cute. I walk into the room and there is L smoking a joint. He takes me over to the guitar.
The case has one hinge pin missing from the hinge. I had never seen this happen before on a martin case, the guitar was grungy dirty for being only about 6 years old and it has cigarette burns on the side and on the headstock.
well it was still a great deal on a D 35 so I tried to negotiate apparently he needed $284.17 to pay his rent and utilities and for good karma that is what he had to sell the guitar for. He fired up the lava lamp and incense and invited me to sit down and jam. He wanted to make sure the guitar had a good home. He proceeded to tell me all the places he played the guitar and my eyes were starting to glaze over. back yard parties, coffeehouses, in california and colorado, but what stuck out in my mind was he was proud it only made it to the beach 3 times.
I tried my hardest but he would not budge off the price and although I enjoyed checking out his girlfriend I finally gave him the money and walked out with my first martin guitar.
fast foward 25 years later in 2003 a bass player pal asked me to come to a jam and I agree. His father was the grand poobah of the knights of columbus and he was able to get their hall to jam in and he had the key to the keg which made it always enjoyable.
We are jamming waiting for the arrival of the keyboard player who is bringing a guitar playing friend. they walk in the door. The guy immediately looks at me and says "your name is Al, you bought my Martin d 35 a long time ago. Do you still have it I want it back"
Well yup you guessed it I still had it but there was no way I was selling it back, so I fibbed and said that I sold it long ago. this was a guitar I had purchased for myself and considered it to be one of arsenal.
He set up his guitar and we continued the jam. He sang out of tune and had not got any better on guitar for the 25 year hiatus.
all night he kept badgering me about the guitar and I was freaked out that our paths would cross again all these years later.
stranger things have happened ....and have happened to me....... |
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Location: Colorado Rocky Mountains | Ah, the hippie girls of the 70's. For me, there wasn't much else worth remembering from the 70's. Keep 'em coming, Al! |
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| I remember about 5 years ago going to see a scratch band in CT who were all six feet plus and bearded (apart from a couple little guys) on the way in to the gig and then appeared on stage in grass skirts and coconut bras.
I have never been to another gig since. It was the most horrible thing I have ever seen (apart from the Roseanne Barr Playboy Centrefold). |
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Location: Campbell River, British Columbia | I'd just had three wisdom teeth out and was recuperating at home, high on T3s. Someone phones that the bass can't make the gig, can I fill in?
Um, I'm not in the best of shape. But if they'll let me sit down all night and spit blood in a bucket - sure.
I show up with my own bucket (wife must have driven) and play the night. Apparently something impressed the leader because when the rhythm guitar player left to join a better band the next week, I got the call. ....to join the WORST country band in the world.
The drummer and I took turns quitting after the first set every week. Then one would take the other out to the parking lot during the first break for 'attitude adjustment' and we'd go back and finish the gig.
I finally got fired for egging the audience to demand Wipe Out then leaving the stage while the drummer did a 5 minute solo. |
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Location: The Great Pacific Northwest | fillhixx got me thinking of another gig.. that was one of the best and worst gigs all at the same time...
Adak Alaska in '85 I think. We were doing a Halloween party. I had a wicked flu, 104+ fever and was wearing a full-face "old man" mask.
I was miserable... but pressed on. I had to sing "best of my love" by the Eagles which was the only one of maybe two or three slow tunes we had. Well, the combination of not being able to breath through my nose at all, the cough medicine relaxing my throat, and the fact that I had to be a little back from the mic with the gain up so I didn't have to strain.... I sounded eff'n amazing. Seriously when I started I thought one of the other guys was singing cause that wasn't MY voice. I brought the bass player to tears, and through my watery eyes and the mask I was pretty sure I was directly responsible for several guys and gals getting laid that night... but I was never able to reproduce that voice again... and believe me I tried. |
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| Guys this is one of the best pages I have ever read... Al, 6, Mr.O, everyone, keep em coming! |
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Location: UK | There was a guy who performed a fairly awful acoustic solo act in the pubs in my area when I was growing up. The climax of his show was a version of Ben E King's 'Stand by Me'. At the end of the song he used to keep strumming the last chord and shout "OK everybody...Come and STAND BY ME". No one ever really knew what he meant, like were we supposed to get up on stage with him? The audience reaction was always hypnotically awful. After a few minutes of increasingly desperate attempts to get everyone to 'stand by' him ("Come on people!!"), he'd totally lose his temper and finish the gig, either by openly swearing at everyone, or making some sarcastic comment like "yeah, what a great ****ing audience you were..." or "last time I play this dump..."
I saw him three times and he did it every time. I kind of became a fan to be honest - maybe it was a weird gimmick. |
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Location: Spain | Originally posted by ddog:
openly swearing at everyone, or making some sarcastic comment like "yeah, what a great ****ing audience you were..." or "last time I play this dump..."
That was standard fayre from me when I played in Gran Canaria, in the resorts....nothing worse than playing to a bunch of legless British tourists.
I used to regularly say stuff like "what a bunch of c*+ts" over the mike.
Tossers! I jacked in playing after months of that, full of bad self doubt! |
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Location: Flahdaw | Originally posted by martinez:
nothing worse than playing to a bunch of legless British tourists. Bad enough they don't have legs, but to be British too.... |
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Location: cincinnati, ohio | Originally posted by ProfessorBB:
Ah, the hippie girls of the 70's. For me, there wasn't much else worth remembering from the 70's. Keep 'em coming, Al! Actually, I...uhhh...CAN'T remember much else from the '70's! :D
Ah, yes - hippie girls. Willowy young goddesses with long braided tresses and Indian headbands, barefoot and wearing buckskin and bell bottoms and very little else. Free love...no HIV...the good old days.
Now they weigh 245 lbs. with blue hair and bifocals. :D Gaaahhhh! I recently ran into an old flame who was a real babe back then (40 years ago). What a letdown - not that I've exactly maintained my svelte figure from back in the day either.
Great stories, guys! And again - Al, you SHOULD write a book. |
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Location: NJ | this one happened earlier this summer.
we were set to do an outdoor gig. they keyboard player could not make it.
no problem we will go on as a power trio.
we were set to open the show. I did not want that position I hate being the opener but I had no real choice about it.
we got there an hour early for the gig as instructed. we were the only ones there except for the hired sound crew who were setting up the FOH (front of house) system.
well this was going to be good a pro sound team, monitors etc. no worries here.
then I saw him.
I will just call him "B". B is a local guy who fancies himself a guitar virtuoso, recording engineer and bon vivant. He is also one of those hypocritical self serving born again types whose life is totally falling apart around him yet he will pontificate on your life. ad nauseam.
Yes B was set up at a snake with feeds going into his digital recording set up with a 42" tv set up as a monitor ALL OF THIS ON STAGE RIGHT IN FULL VIEW OF THE AUDIENCE. (ok he was partially obscured by the speakers but not really.)
I asked what was going on and he told me the guy that ran the gig wanted it recorded. I told him that I gave no one permission to have my music recorded and was not having it. B told me it was not my choice. I was not happy.
The FOH guys were great. they set everything up and I asked if we could run a sound check. We did, I was using my 59' Fender bassman and sue had a special bass rig that I made up with a groove tubes bass preamp, Urei power amp, a Mesa boogie twin 15" ev cab, with a direct line out and of course the drums were mic ed
We tested the system set levels, then monitor levels and ripped into one of our tunes.
Wow that was great everyone said, the people that had started to gather around for this outside gig applauded and I was kinda surprise since sound checks rarely get applause.
Can you turn down the guitar amp? the FOH guy asked. sure I said. we have the system on idle and you are blowing us out. I turned down to 1/4 from 1/2 and it was still not enough for them so I turned down to about 2. that pissed me off since I was now not able to get the good tones from the amp and had to use a pedal but I went with the flow.
the second act on the bill was this humdinger chick who was not too happy about following a full band. she was an acoustic player and had an electric guitar backing her up along with a conga player and some bimbo with big milk jugs to help get the audience in the "mood".
we go on after you she screeched. Can my guitar player use your amp? can I set up this stuff here? (in your way )(added for emphasis) and blah blah blah blah blah. sure whatever you want but we go on at 3 and you need to be finished by 3.
At 3 they were still messing around with something and I called over the MC and said introduce us we are playing we are not cutting short our set for their set up. we were introduced and started our set.
we started to play and it sounded great the FOH guys did a great job of mixing and we never sounded better. I think it helped that they liked our tunes and playing.
so 3/4rds through the set it happens. there is a strange loud digital feedback that is coming through the system. Yes B has struck again apparently his digital recording system was overloading so now it feed back through the front of house. All of a sudden I see 6 guys running up to the stage and starting to pull cables out of B's board. I am not happy. our sound went from huge to a transistor radio and btw I am on 2 since I was asked to pull back my vol for the PA and I am barely heard. We trudge through the rest of the tune me singing into a mic that is not on and playing a guitar that can barely be heard. during the guitar solo, B glanced over at me with a smirk on his face. I gave him the finger mid guitar solo to thunderous applause from the audience. (yes he had few fans that day)
well they got it straight for the rest of the set. of course we had to reset levels and we lost some monitors and I was so jacked up for the rest of the set I think we played it like we were on speed.
humdinger took the stage as our applause barely died down and walked past me not saying a word. In fact I have run into her on a few other occasions and she always looks the other way.
B grabbed me after the set and asked what was the problem, He swore it was the FOH guy's fault but I talked to them and they told me it was his rig. I just shrugged and said look I told you not to record me and this is what happens.
a few acts later a friend takes the stage and is having a difficult time of it. His songs are good but his bass player is lagging and the drummer is acting like he never played the tunes before. He starts bashing away at his guitar and breaks a string. He walks to the edge of the back of the stage where probably a dozen guitar players are and asks if he can borrow a guitar, it falls on deaf ears, everyone is ignoring him. I was in the stands at this time having a conversation with an old friend witness this and immediately jump up sprint to the back stage area get my guitar out of the case and hand it to him.
he thanks me continues his set gets off stage and we wonder aloud why a dz musicians standing there could not have lent him a guitar and I had to run back from the audience to do it.
I often thought it would get easier but it dosen't |
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Location: UK | Originally posted by martinez:
[/qb] That was standard fayre from me when I played in Gran Canaria, in the resorts....nothing worse than playing to a bunch of legless British tourists.
[/QB]
Ah, you were probably aiming way above them, bro, way above them. "And this one's called Jazz Odyssey...".
It's because the standard of entertainment laid on by pubs in this country is so poor, so it's what we expect when we go abroad. My local pub has a big sign outside saying "Live Musick" (with that spelling) which, in reality, just means loud karaoke all weekend.
(Cue 'Fat Sandra' from the chip shop belting out 'Memories'.).
Add programmes like X-factor to the mix and you have a large proportion of the population who could quite reasonably be termed 'musically illiterate'
I saw some pretty 'interesting' acts abroad when I was a holidaying as a kid. My favourite was the Italian keyboard/ bass duo who performed Dark Side of The Moon in its entirety (including the spoken word bits) for an under-16 dance at a family resort we stayed at. It was kind of weird hearing "I've been mad for f**ng years" come over the PA at a kids disco. By the end, some of the little ones were crying and their parents were complaining to the management. :( |
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Location: NJ | forgot to mention that they were filming this gig and as I gave the finger to B a guy with a camera was filming me over B's shoulder |
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Location: Colorado Rocky Mountains | The reason we call him "Mr. Big" should be obvious. |
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Location: NJ | because I had a ton of bad experiences?????
funny I keep going back for more LOL |
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Location: cincinnati, ohio | Al - one word.
Book. :D |
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Location: Campbell River, British Columbia | Shhh....he's writing it here. On the installment plan.
Best-gig-ever: had a few of those too?
Just for contrast and comparison.
* * * * * *
It was 1975 and I'd just been talked into performing for a living. Two media buddies, in competition with each other, wanted to manage me. Needless to say I already had an immense sense of self-worth and this only encouraged the situation.
But told them both I would play any gigs they got and pay them a commission.
First gig; The Whistle Stop. Me solo guitar and jokes all night in the first neighbourhood pub in the area. (legislation to allow these things had just recently passed. so they were still a curiousity.)
The place was packed on a Friday, as much because of the above as because I was there. The tablefull of girls in the front row hadn't come to see me and I didn't interrupt their conversation much over the first set.
Working the house during the break I introduced myself and asked what sort of music interested them. Then went up and sang the sexiest songs I knew. Second set, during the table tour, I told the cutest one that she would get to go home with me if she played her cards right.
She did.
I loved the '70s. |
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Location: cincinnati, ohio | Me, too - for those same reasons. :D
But that's another thread... |
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Location: Flahdaw | Yeah, don't screw up this thread.....start a new "best gig ever" thread. |
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Location: Boise, Idaho | I've told this story here before, so don't search the archives to see if I changed it.
I don't do gigs. I may have been scarred for life from the only time I ever accepted an offer to play and sing in front of a bunch of strangers.
I was at my buddy's dad's bar, where I spent most of my time in college. It was a cowboy beer bar in Kansas and I was not a cowboy, but they didn't give me too much trouble because my friend's dad owned the place and my friend was a regular bartender.
They often had someone singing country western songs and playing guitar and I usually tried to ignore it and just drink. At the time I despised c&w music. Couldn't stand the twangy sound. That was before rap, hip hop, punk rock, screamo and all that other crap came around to fill the bottom of my barrel.
There was a country singer playing one night and I went in the john to make room for more beer. When I came out, I was applauded (quick zipper check, which just reminded me of another story) and the singer announced that I would fill in for her during her break.
Obviously, my friend put her up to this. I had just started playing guitar and probably could barely fumble through the cowboy chords, but wouldn't have known any country songs to go with them. I was probably too drunk to do the smart thing and decline, so I picked the easiest song I knew, "Make It With You" by Bread and started. I still remember being surprised by how loud and different my voice sounded through a mic.
Distractions like that, nerves and too much beer caused me to forget the last verse, so I just kept repeating the first or second verse, thinking the last one would eventually come to me. It didn't, so I just stopped. I recall some applause, but don't remember any requests for another song. I wouldn't have been able to honor any such requests if they had come. I just went back to my stool and vowed never to do that again.
My next public performance was at our wedding several years later. That went OK. |
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OT: WHAT'S THE WORST (OR WEIRDEST) GIG YOU'VE EVER PLAYED?
