One night I played in a band that played at 7th st. entry in Minneapolis – Superchunk was playing in the main room, but they got done so most of their crowd was in my room – I was using a slightly unfamiliar effects unit and I thought it’s tuner left a little to be desired but we got up and played well for the start

around song 2 or 3 I broke a string – I think I had a crappy acoustic standby but I handed the guitar to a fellow musician, and got it back shortly thereafter and it was like 4 strings had gone out of tune – (this being a Gibson Les Paul with no tremolo, it wasn’t due to losing the tension of one string) – but I didn’t find out till I struck the chord of the song as the band came in

it was like he detuned 5 strings to make one work – and he states he told me to check them all – but anyways, I couldn’t get things in tune right with that bad effect unit, and in a packed dark room, the rest of the gig melted fast – as I kept trying to tweak the tuning, and the songs just sucking – I remember this as being worse than the gig we played in a HS gym in in WI with mega reverb, because we had such a good crowd there to impress and we totally totally blew it –

a guy known in the scene as Hardcore Dave was there – I saw him afterwards and he said “some people just shouldn’t play guitar” – I guess that was a nice way of telling me I sucked

ah well – never played 7th st again

RB

Worst gig i’ve done so far was at this little hole in the wall pub. A friend of mine had booked a show there and asked me to perform so I did. A gig is a gig right? I’d never been to this place so didnt know what to expect. Well when we got there I almost left immediately, it was all of maybe 15 feet wide, there was no stage, and the Dj equipment was set up on a lone pool table that had been pushed up against the front window next to the front door and was apparently where we were to perform. All of my friends who had come along for support were in awe as was I. I found the promoter and asked, “so am I to stand on this pool table and perform or is this like the pre-party?” He laughed and said “no just stand in front of the pool table over by the front door, but we havent put together any set times yet so i’ll just call you when its your turn.” So the drinkers that we are, my friends and I started puttin back some beverages. I tried to drink away the fact that this was actually the reality of this show I had been telling all my friends to drive all the way out here for. Yet at the same time im thinking to myself, “I know every musician must pay their dues so suck it up and get on with it. We went on to perform to a near lifeless “Pub” crowd, and I ended up gettin so drunk that I forgot the words to the last verse of my last song and basically just walked out of the venue never to return. Since that night every show has seemed like a cakewalk.

Sounds like a strange Jandek alternate tuning!

That sounds worse than it sounds!

Ha. Well, at least it ended funny!

You know it’s a bad gig when you need a police escort!

That Business Womens’ Luncheon gig sounds familiar!

Oh, cool. Good to know. Thanks for the entertainment.

I played in Nanaimo once! It went a little better than that. But not much.

Worst gig ever: Our drummer booked us to play at Clemson University, about 4.5 hours drive from where we were located. Not only did he miss the fact that our guarantee was not, in fact, a guarantee, but i also tore a muscle in my back loading gear, causing me to have to play the show on a stool (I couldn’t stand) while suffering intensely painful muscle spasms. Plus I had to drive the 4.5 hours home, all for no pay!

Oh, and did i mention that the bar MADE US PAY FOR OUR OWN BEER?

Singing at an outdoor folk festival in Canada, we were doing workshop on unaccompanied Irish songs.. About 100 feet away, in another tent,booked at the same time- a bagpipe workshop.

I have several great ones but I will start with this one:

I am a trumpet player and was hired to play a church service at a church I had never been to before. So I got there to the church about an hour before the service as I was asked to, and met with the Music Director and the other 2 trumpet players, whom I knew from around town. The MD asked if we knew “The Old Rugged Cross” and I said that I did but the other 2 guys weren’t sure they could do it with no music and playing harmony parts. SO the MD said ” well… let’s have Johnny (me) play the first part and you guys can fill in the best you can.”
What we were supposed to do was play this tune super slow… like a dirge, while walking down the aisles of the church from the back towards the front. we did it a couple of times as a rehearsal and then it was time for the service.
What the MD neglected to mention was that the church was going to be pitch black during this tune. Well… I was in the middle aisle, walking, kind of, trying so hard to see. It was just crazy how black it was with the lights off. I am walking and playing and run right over the top of this little old lady that was in the middle of the aisle in a wheel chair. We both fall over, of course, and I make this awful “bllahhfuuttttteeeeaahhh” noise through my horn and then swear loudly like a sailor when I hit the floor.
“^%$#&^$!!!!! At which point the other 2 trumpets players lose it and starting laughing like hyenas. Like the pro I am, I jumped up and said ” My Bad’ and started to try to come in again, but it was just a disaster so we all 3 just slunk to the front of the church and sat down to complete silence.

This is my first installment of several. Hope you giggle.

Had a great weekly gig in a classy restaurant outside Sydney. Owner asked me to write a 50 anniversary song for his best friends. I said sure. I thought they had a sense of humor over there. The song I wrote was “I knew Your Wife When She Wasn’t Your Wife”. I was fired, discretely, that evening. I’m still humiliated when I think of it. If I was a comedian I guess I’d just say, “well, shit, I bombed.” But I’m not.

While on a 30 day tour of Colorado in 2003 or 2004, my Michigan based-band, Grasshoppah, got a sudden call from our agent that we could fill a supporting act slot in Denver. We opened for a “Dave Mathews cover band”. One of those loser bands where all of the members dress up and try to play just like the original. They may have even done a “show” from the Mathews archive. Halfway into our set, the club begins to fill up and you could smell the disappointment in the air. Perhaps, they were hoping to hear a different cover band, covering different bad songs. Anyhow, we finish up our set and the dicey, coked-up, club owner gives us (trio) a pitcher of crappy american beer and $20. Of course many words were exchanged but we did not get anything else for compensation. Although this was the worst paying gig I ever played, the moral of the story is Dave Mathews and even his cover bands are worse than a pitcher of bud and $20.

We were booked at a Bluegrass/Traditional music festival. Turned out that the tradtional stage was way at the back of the festival area. No sound system – in full sun – 15 feet from the porta-potties. We were about 5 minutes into the gig when the honey-dipper truck pulls up and starts sucking out the crap. We continued playing but no one could hear anything but the truck vacuum… Talk about a crappy venue!

Its a toss up between..
- First gig ever and Sound engineer saying my guitar sounded like an epileptic wasp
- small party when i couldn’t tune my guitar 10 years later… everyone waited patiently for 20 mins and it was still out a mile
- doing 3 gigs in one day, we got more and more brilliant with each one, directly proportional to quantity of alcohol consumed – even remember how bad the last one was despite remembering little else.

produced a metal show of several local/regional bands at the late & beloved music hall in allentown, pa someone shit in the sink, someone kicked a toilet over (still wondering how).
had to pay $35 for a replacement and hire someone to watch the bathroom for $35 for all future shows. those were the days

Oh my God that’s hysterical. One of the funniest stories I’ve ever heard

The worst venue that I have ever played at was at the Walnut Room in Denver, Colorado. If you’re unaware, there are two different Walnut Rooms. One is just a venue/bar, the other is a pizzeria/venue. I word it like that, “pizzeria/venue” because that is the order in which they operate. Now, for the record, they do have amazing food and, as a performer, you get to take your pick; however, the experience is really one of a kind.

The stage on which you perform is above the bar. This affectively hides you from your audience as you play on what feels like a cat walk hidden in the rafters of the ceiling. Because of this, your audience is loud and ungrateful.

I had fun and played my heart out, but when i was done, I got the hell out of there… after I got my food of course.

Worst gig ever actually started as one of my best gigs ever. My comedy-rap group (which keep in mind, even though we’re rapping our songs, it’s really more of a comedy show than a hip-hop/rap show and we have skits and improv and all kinds of stuff like that mixed in with the music), Tha Killa Korpse Gangstaz aka Tha Polar Bear MC’s played one of our best shows ever at a little bar in Las Vegas called Play Of The Day. It was a Friday night and we drew something like 75 people which was one of our best draws ever, especially considering it was just us and no openers.

The show went great, everyone was loving it, and as we were breaking down, the owner of the bar came up to me and said he loved it so much he wants us to start playing every Friday night for I think it would have been $100 plus a cut of the bar or door or something. We’d still be doing this today if that had worked out, but no more than 15 minutes later, some guys came in that we didn’t know, and they started a fight with some guys that we also didn’t know. This fight turned into something like out of a movie with bottles and chairs flying through the air, by far the biggest brawl I’ve ever seen in real life. The police were called. It was the worst thing ever, and then as it’s all calming down, the owner came back up to me and said “Hey, I’m sorry but the OTHER owner just told me he doesn’t want to do rap shows here because of the potential for violence, so we can’t do the shows with you anymore.” Our career building residency lasted all of 15 minutes because of people we didn’t even know that were not even the kind of crowd we would have ever considered inviting.

I tried to explain to him that we didn’t even know any of those people involved, but it was too late. I don’t think we ever really recovered from it. Definitely the worst show ever.

I played in an electronic band once and we got wasted before the show. We had recently lost one of our bandmates so it was just the two of us, and we were using a backing tape that we would play over. Well, we were having trouble with the levels, trying to adjust it on our side because we couldn’t communicate with the guy on the mixing board. It was dark, we couldn’t see. Let me say that it was my suggestion we use a backing tape, so this is my fault. My bandmate accidentally hit the rewind button on the tape with his knee and we stood there in horror, paralyzed as we watched our set begin from scratch. WHat I would do now for a mishap is to approach it with humor, because bad things do happen on the road. But back then it was so awful, what a bad feeling. But, you can’t quit. You have to improve, get back in the saddle, all of that. I never forgave myself for that because the backing tape was my idea, and the other guy felt horrible for bumping it with his knee. I feel so bad. But, years went by, things happen in life and you learn, and you grow, and I can laugh about it now. Stupid human trick.

Clemson sucks, and this proves it. Go Cocks!

About a year ago, someone called offering us about a $1000 to play New Year’s Eve at a country club. A thousand bucks? Heck yes! We’ll do it.

The problem was, they wanted dance covers and we had almost none in the can. We are an original band, had very two new band members, and one day to learn 4 hours of cover songs. We crammed, just like in high school for a test, staying up, going over lyrics and chord sheets.

Despite all that preparation, halfway through our show, we ran out of material. Our bass player had brought her karaoke machine she uses for other shows, so we began picking out songs from her list and singing to them, attempting (mostly pretending) to play along. The machine would skip and we would stop and try to jump back in. It was a riot! The drummer was cussing into her headset mic the whole time.

Fortunately, the crowd was a bit drunk by then, and most seemed happy, anyway. We were pretty embarrassed, though.

They didn’t invite us back — big surprise! It’s a shame, though, because we could now pull it off with our current lineup.

I’ve never told this story before — to anyone. Shhhh!

Back around 2000 my old band, Leechmilk, went on a 1 week tour from Atlanta out to Los Angeles. We were invited to play at a place called the Coconut Teaser that a local band told us they could set up. It would be our first and last time in L.A. The band that set it up seemed pretty legit since they played original music and traveled alot as well. But I never heard of the place.

As we pull into the parking lot, we were charged $10 just to park in their lot. We were scheduled to play 3rd with the other local playing last and 2 more locals playing 1st and 2nd. We were not sure who the other locals were but they brought in 200 plus people when they were playing. Turns out they were both hair metal cover bands. Duh! Sunset Strip trying to revitalize itself somehow in a bad way. As soon as we set up, everyone cleared out. There were 3 people watching us. And they were in another band!

Adding insult to injury, the door man said there was no money for us since this was one of those type of clubs where the patrons come in and tell the doorman who they are there to see, and the doorman writes down the numbers on paper. Since we’ve never played there, there was no-one there to see us. 3000 miles for this? L.A. sucks, even to this day. Play San Diego or anywhere else up in northern CA! Just not here!!

~Dan

I once played at a high school in the late ’80s, where we were the out of town headliner (an original heavy metal band). A really crappy high school aged cover band went on as the opening act, and played a pretty horrible 45 minute set. During our show, a pretty girl kept trying to get my attention to say something. I finally leaned over to her and she said “can the other band come back on now?” Pretty humbling, but at least we got paid!

in a show called spellbound, we were working in texas at a hugh air force base, they let us stay in the officers quarters, well, we were getting ready to set up for the engagement, when we got a call from the general saying to pack our stuff up and get off the base, omg, we drove half way around the country, and now we dont have a gig, little did we know that our bass player,would feed his boa constrictor once a month, then he would be very placid, for awhile, we used him as part of our show, one of the girls would bring him out as her boyfriend, very funny, well,,,,as we were setting up he never told us that back at the offices quarters, he had bought 100 baby chicks to feed the snake, he would only eat things alive, but what he didnt tell us is that he had put the snake and the chicks in the bathroom together so the snake would catch them while we were setting up, well,,,,,,,, the maid came in the room to clean, you guessed it, she opened the bathroom door and you know, we heard she was running down the hall screaming at the top of her lungs, well,,,,,,,,,,,,, the general had a change of heart,,, when everyone on base heard the story, they all wanted to see the snake, we played the shows, and you know, there was lines around the club on base to see this thing, needless to say we didnt stay on base, but we got a chance meet the general and apoligise to the maid, had a good laugh together, worst and best together

While playing in the parking lot of a bar (no stage) for their July 4th party in 1985 , a drunk zoomed across the sidewalk into the parking lot and smashed into the right PA stack, it belonged to the sound company who was doing all the sound for the event and was a lot bigger than our little PA. A large speaker box came flying off the top and hit our guitar player, breaking his leg and cracking several ribs. The drunk then continued on into the tent that housed the outdoor bar, going through there and finally smashing into the building.
According to the local paper 26 people had to be taken to the hospital and several dozen others suffered cuts and bruises.
And, we didn’t get paid!!! (Possible the worst thing of all ).
At least the drunk did some jail time, it was a miracle no one was killed.

Yours is the first story I’ve read and already I can’t imagine anyone trumping it. (Notice I didn’t say “trumpeting” it…. heh). Very funny … after the fact!

Giggle? I howled!

I was on my way to a gig in a folk club I never enjoyed playing at in a car we had just bought from my wife’s father.Half way there,the car broke down and I flagged down a taxi while she waited for the recovery service.I arrived at the gig,paid the taxi driver who then drove away with my guitar in the boot.I did the gig with a borrowed guitar and when I came to leave,found that someone had stolen my coat.

GROAN! Great story. You can lead a horse ….

He could have at least given you an imported beer.

Was booked for a Smooth Jazz- Latin Jazz- R&B Event and when we got there it was a Polka event they where dressed in the traditional attire and it was like an October fest Celebration, luckily the guitar player was from the Check Republic and he knew every polka known to men so we just followed ,

Playing bass in a 60′s British Invasion tribute band at a Toronto pub full
of ex-pat Brits the night Princess Diana died. We started our first set
and the TV’s in the pub were tuned to sports (with the sound off), but by
the end of the set, they were tuned to CNN, with the sound still off, but
the words “Princess Diana Injured” scrolling along the bottom of the
screen. I didn’t pay much attention, since at that time Princess Di could
get news coverage by twisting her ankle while skiing. We played a second
set, at the end of which, the scroll read “Princess Diana Seriously
Injured”. Okay, now they’ve added the word “seriously”, so the volume was
turned up on the TV’s. And then just as we were about to start our third
and final set, the news broke that Princess Di had died. The mood in the
place plummeted, but after a quick discussion with the manager, we decided
to try to lift everybody’s spirits with some rousing old Beatles tunes.
Anyway, it didn’t work, partly because many of the patrons were filing out
of the place to call their relatives back home, partly because many more
were sitting there crying into their drinks (literally), and partly
because our first song was “One After 909″, which we realized too late
starts with a line about driving. At least we didn’t open with “Drive My
Car”.

T.C. Folkpunk
http://www.folkpunk.com

This is easy. No contest. I was in folk duo with my buddy Victor Cummings in Seattle in the late 80′s through the 90′s. He was working at this group home for developmentally disabled adults. Sometimes the people who lived in this house would come to our shows. None were severely retarded or disabled, most of them had day jobs and just needed help around the edges of life. They were super sweet and very enthusiastic fans and I was always happy to see them come…One time Vic got us a gig at this place called Fircrest which was kind of like a mental hospital…We were somehow under the impression that the people we’d be playing for would be similar to the cool folks at Vic’s group house. Wrong. The quietest person in the room was bellowing like a water buffalo. One guy was trying to eat a Tonka toy while another was trying to hump a beanbag chair. There was one supervisor guy for the whole room of maybe 20 or so people. He stood in front of the stage area and grabbed people as they came running towards us, arms windmilling at full blast, often grabbing them just before they reached us. We played very rhythmic extended “dance mixes” of all of our tunes and counted ourselves lucky to get out of there in one piece. This was clearly not the right venue for our kind of music. For years afterward, whenever we were playing in some noisy as hell club with no one listening one of us would mouth the word “Fircrest” to the other and we would just crack up. It was kind of scary and awful at the time, but I still laugh my ass off when I think of it today. ;~) GB

Two of my musician friends and I were booked to perform for an Arts in the City program close to the entrance inside the Port Authority Bus Terminal in New York City. However, when we got there, we found that the space where we were supposed to be setting up had been taken over by people registering kids to get on buses to head to camp. We went to the people in charge who decided that we were to do our thing on the second floor. The problem was that the second floor is simply a concourse where people head to the escalators to go up to the level where the buses depart. Without shops or even benches on which to sit, there’s absolutely no reason to go to the second floor except to head directly to the buses. We were a complete surprise to everyone, since there were no posters or announcements made for our performance.

Anyway, there were the three of us, with our instruments and amps, etc. plugged into a pillar in the middle of the immense space with nothing but people hurrying on their way. The only chance our migrating ‘audience’ had to hear a full song was if we did very short numbers which were only a minute in duration! The only ones who were standing there and listening were the homeless and the unemployed people with nowhere else to go–they really enjoyed the unexpected entertainment. It was really strange seeing hurrying people watching us as they walked by and applauding our efforts without missing a step as they hurried to catch their buses. But at least we DID get applause! It was the exact opposite of watching a band in a parade–the audience was marching by and we were stationery!

John I attempted to email you but it came back.

Of all the places one can be embarrassed, I think a somber church service would have to be the worst! But your predicament did give me (& probably others) a good laugh!

At least your were fed, paid and treated with a modicum of respect. Not bad for your worst gig!

Festival gig, unpaid, in the beer tent.

A friend has kindly agreed to drive me to the festival, which is in a field about 2 hours away. Unfortunately, the motorway is closed and we have to find an alternate route on small local roads. I call the organizers to let them know I will not make it in time for sound check. They say that’s okay, they’re running behind.

When we arrive, an hour late, the sound check is still going on. It consists of one guy on stage mechanically whacking a snare-drum while the sound man tries to eliminate the feedback. This is a lost cause because the beer-tent stage has been set up with its back to the mainstage speakers, so that the five-piece band on the mainstage is feeding directly into the microphones.

The result is so painful that the tent is empty except for a small crowd of people huddled at the far end. They are only there because it’s raining, and, well, there’s beer.

When I arrive, they give up on the sound-check and put me (solo singer-songwriter) on stage. I try the loudest and most raucous thing I’ve got. I cannot hear myself at all over the noise from the mainstage. I do a few more and then give up and finish my set with an a cappella song in French, taking my pitch from the band on the mainstage.

My friend assures me that nobody could hear anything anyway. We drive home in the rain without dinner.

1970.
Just before leaving Detroit for a series of college and coffee house performances
in the Pacific Northwest, my songwriting/performing partner and I, Diane, had a last minute “booking”; It had been represented to us as “not the nicest of places to play” by our agent, but for the five nights we would pick up $450 in extra gas money for the journey ahead.
The first night as we arrived to set up the amplifier, and check out the stage and dressing room, we found ourselves in a seedy bar, which apparently had recently hosted strippers.
Not our venue, but oh well, the show goes on; bar blender and all; “We’ll get through it.”
Not many patrons that first set, or for that matter, would there be for the subsequent sets or for the rest of the week, but one heavily tattooed and unkempt guy sat spellbound throughout the very first set, and seemed to hang on every word.
After we finished, he insisted on buying us both a drink, and proceeded to interview and hold forth.
No rest for the weary; just mind numbing conversation right into the next set, and then a repeat of the same thing after set two. There was really no place to hide, and as twenty year olds, we were ill prepared to handle the rather aggressive overture of friendship from a scary dude. Think; all those movies that you’ve seen that start out with some innocuous situation.
It was feeling a bit like that.
As his conversation increasingly became more slurred, he disclosed alarming details about his past, while professing his fondness for our music and, of course, us, individually and collectively.
One thing I knew; I was going to stay on Roy’s good side or this was going to end badly.
Roy would be my best friend for the duration of the gig.
For my part, cautious conversation and a receptive ear continued between sets and throughout the week.
Sometime on the last night of the engagement, “Roy” whispered that he was recently out of prison; actually that he had escaped; and that he had killed a couple of (insert some racial epitaph here)
I had already figured out the prison part, but whether he was a murderer or not, I couldn’t evaluate.
I was hoping that this was a case of “the unreliable narrator”. Who knows?
He had made quite a few wild and alarming assertions over the course of the week, and surviving this gig from hell was very much on my mind. No questions, no challenges;
just get through it, collect our pay, and get on the road to the west coast.
After the fourth set, Friday night, and with “Roy” uncharacteristically nowhere to be seen, I ventured back to the bar-owner’s office to collect the check.
Our car was outside; all packed and ready for the road, but no bar-owner.
Anywhere. Anywhere. Anywhere.
Finally, I realized that there would be no check; it had been a freebee; more than a waste of time; life endangering without the “hazardous duty” pay.
Stepping over Roy; unconscious and lying in beer and broken glass outside the door, we gingerly loaded the equipment and pointed the Toyota Land cruiser west and drove off into the night.

This is a story of a worst gig that actually turned out to be pretty fun. We had driven from Austin, TX to Bellingham, Wa (north of Seattle) to play a gig with 2 other bands that we were touring with for a short time on the west coast. When we get to the venue, a kind of indie art gallery/ music venue, we find out it had been shut down the night before due to fire code violations (which had not been tended to yet). So here we are thinking we’re just going to have to turn back around and head back to Seattle for the gig the next night, when the guys that run the gallery end up making some calls and setting up the show at the local bowling alley. (Bellingham is not a large town, BTW) We get to the bowling alley and there is a small “basement room” under the lanes, with a ceiling about 6′ 1″ tall! We ended up playing in this little “box” under the lanes and you could hear the balls rolling and the pins crashing in between songs or during quiet sections. However, there were enough people there that the little room was constantly packed, everyone was sweaty and dancing and as long as you didn’t jump up or swing your guitar neck up too high (because you would hit the ceiling) everything turned out to be a pretty raucous, rockin good time! We actually crashed on the stage of the original venue that night and stayed up pretty late partying with the locals.

There was a restaurant in Roanoke, VA called the Ground Round which about once a week had a sign up talent show for people to compete via applause to win a 50 buck prize…this was about 1981 and I was 18 years old. I had a pianist friend who I had worked with before who said let’s do this thing and maybe get 25 bucks a piece. I’d never been to this place and my pianist friend didn’t bother to “take the temperature” of the room to figure out what kind of music the patrons liked and I, being very young, had assumed he knew what this place was and the type of people who went there. We worked up a little two song set to sing which consisted of a faster popular song of the day and a ballad.

We got there a little early and decided to have a burger and fries before we went on…good enough and signed up for the show and I believe we were about fifth to go on. Shortly before the show started, the place filled up with a bunch of rowdy, obnoxious rednecks and the few acts that went on before us were all country and bluegrass…we’re talking about true twang here…not to insult country artists but this was very far removed from my genre.

I was sitting there thinking, “oh my God,” and coming up with about a few hundred ways to kill my friend. We should have left but no, why get off a sinking ship when you just as easily drown in the ocean? Well we go on and me, being dressed in modern type fashion of the time with no cowboy hat was instantly greeted by a silent, suspicious crowd who sat glaring at me. I did my first little song and nobody moved except for a few awkward moments of shifting around and then to boos and hisses at the end. Starting the ballad, the boos and hisses got louder and I then thought “F— it” and threw down the restaurant’s mic, walked off the stage and started for the exit while the house full of rednecks still booed and hissed.

I remember while walking out I heard the owner screaming at me, “you better not have broken my mic, ” and I returned with a very loud “F— You!!!” which I know everyone heard before making my exit. I have a very loud voice and can over-shout a multitude of people even to this day. Actually, I found out later I did not break their mic and if I had, they could have gone to Radio Shack and gotten another one for 10 bucks.

My pianist friend called me the next day, apologizing, saying he didn’t know it was that kind of place and all that. I basically said, never to include me in any more of his bright ideas…blah…blah…blah…and licked my wounds until I eventually got over it.

Much to my joy and pleasure, the Ground Round in Roanoke, VA went out of business a few years later as an aftermath of well publicized Health Dept. fines due to rancid kitchen conditions, bugs, filth and God knows what all else. Eventually even the building was torn down. Buwah ha ha ha ha!!

At a Senior Convention, we were asked to perform as a new band, and we had only a small PA system. The Venue had rented a Sound Contractor which had six clusters of speakers in the large room. The room was so large you couldn’t recognize the people across the room, so we carefully set up the sound the night before with a plug in to the larger system and we sounded awesome. The guitar player was using a small 8″ speaker with a mic, and we really sounded good. Fast forward to the next day and none of the sound people showed up from the contracted company, and the system we had was borrowed. The guy we borrowed it from thought it would be a good idea to turn on his fog machine and get some ambience into the show. What it looked like was our sound system was pushing the limit in the room, and the little guitar amp was smoking. We sounded horrible….

I knew I should’ve cancelled… I had a bad chest cold but needed the $150 for the night… being a trio with piano, guitar, and drums and me the main singer, I thought I could do it… well, by song three there was no way… we struggled our way thru set one and the piano player told me to relax, so I got my first shot and a beer… well too many of both later and the next set, I didn’t sing at all, the piano player taking over… by the middle of set two, I could barely remember intros and leads… the only saving grace was that there was a small crowd and we cut set three in half and got paid (don’t know why)…
The next practice, me and the piano player got into it and I quit…
Lesson learned, cancel if you have to, don’t fight about it afterward… and now the same piano player and I play acoustically at lounges and even opened in that same club…
Rock and Roll Never Forgets…

That is funny. Reminds me of when I was playing with a youth band and the singer got excited and jumped up on the drum riser with his back to the kids and decided to jump of the riser backwards while spinning. He also was playing an accoustic giutar btw. Well, he did not realize how close the kid playing keys was and smacked him in the back of the head with the stock of the guitar. The kid almost went to his knees. What made it more funny was the fact that the kid he hit was the youth director’s son. The youth director also happened to be the pastors brother. We laughed about that for weeks.

the worst gig I have ever played would have to be new year’s eve with this four piece band at an old folks home. the drummer never showed up and I had to play tamborine all night so the others could keep a beat! prune juice was served instead of champagne…

This too funny, but I can totally relate to suddenly trying to play an instrument when you can’t see. About 10 years ago I was on stage, with my guitar in hand, for a Celtic Celebration in a gorgeous Town Hall where we were performing a storytelling event, (I’m a storyteller and singer-songwriter) and although we rehearsed ahead of time, and all went super, the artistic director decided to have lighted candelabras on either side of where the performer would stand, or sit. Well, this was fine and dandy for an oral presentation, but for anyone with an instrument it was awful! I was blinded. And, to boot, someone left the back door behind the audience open to a winding staircase strung with white lights! I sweetly asked for the lights to be turned up and curtsied in my wee kilt. I quickly learned to pre-arrange with the lighting person wherever I perform (cafe, theatre, bar or whatever) and ask what is going to happen on stage!

Really 2 stories but one tour.

On our way to a big tour in Mexico we got to the border at Nogales and the tour buses were supposed to meet us at 11 am. Well, this being Mexico, the time thing didn’t really work and the buses didn’t show. 9 hours of standing on the border waiting for 4 buses to show up (we had a huge dance troupe as well). The good news, one more day of border town partying, the bad news, well we had to do it all again the next day.

Finally the following day at about 3PM the buses show up, we cross the border and without much fanfare start our trip to Hermosillo, the first stop on our tour. No problems.

The following day, we have to do the whole publicity thing since this was co-sponsored by Coca Cola and after the obligatory photos on the stage we finally got to leave and enjoy the refreshing taste of warm, I should say hot, Coca Cola products. See, ice isn’t really called for there.

Not 10 minutes later, one of the lighting trusses has a welding failure and collapses… on the stage where about 90 of use were just standing. That was really a crisis averted because there probably would have been deaths.

Part 2 – Mexico City

Well there are lots of mini-mishaps but nothing that important so we jump ahead to Mexico City, our crowing jewel and the Plaza del Toros was packed. So many people that there were people climbing the light poles to watch.

Over 50,000 people and we were jamming, until the power went out for half the stage. The mics worked, but only the guitar amps still had power. This was the 80′s and e-drums were hot… until the power failure.

The bass player was singing and his part was being played by the midi track along with a lot of backup DX-11′s. Gotta love those digital keys!

So there I am having to play guitar with just a singer and me, in front of 50,000 people. That wasn’t the problem. I had to create a harmony part since I was just playing a single funk line and had long ago forgotten the original harmony (you tend to memorize songs after playing the same sets for months

It was a good lesson though, and one I remember to this day. The audience usually doesn’t know what is wrong with the set, only you do. Keep playing and pretend this is the way it is.

We played mostly original and classic Hawaiian with some country.. It was Valentine’s Day. My boyfriend was our lead male vocal, and back-up guitar. The venue was a rodeo. I had written a couple of country love songs as a Val-Day present for my BF. We got to the gig. Outdoor stage. It was pouring. No BF. Sheet plastic was stretched across the stage. Water was pooling under the electronics. I got a mild zap from the mic stand. No BF. We finally got set up, tarps and plastic wrapped around everything. No BF. Finally managed to find a phone and get through to the BF’s house. It was too wet. He wasn’t coming. A female was giggling in the background. Ripped the love songs out of the book. Lead guitar said he could take the male vocals. That worked. Audience wanted line dance covers. We had. . . . one. BUT, I figured, if we got a strong contry swing bass line going, I could fudge every country song I knew into a dance number. Lead guitar liked it. Banjo liked it. Bass player. . . not so much. “I don’t play contry dance.” Ok, then. Fortunately, there was a sweet little girl who had just won an `ukulele competition. He uncle asked if she could play between our sets. I said, “Why, certainly!” The little girl totally smoked. i invited her to take the rest of the set. The music community in Hawai`i is pretty small, so we all run across each other a lot. It’s been a real pleasure to watch Brittni Paiva bloom into a mature musician and make her mark. I know she’d have done fabulously whether or not she played our stage, but sometimes I pretend. . . . it’s nice to think you may have helped someone get a little bit closer to her dream! http://www.brittnipaiva.com/home.cfm Oh, yeah – I ended up ditching the BF.

Love it – a topic after my own heart. I have just published a book on this very subject, “Another Nightmare Gig from Hell” (Nick Zelinger & Tammy Brackett). Here’s an excerpt, from Charlotte-based
Simplified:

Several years ago, the band Simplified, from Charlotte, NC, played a regular Sunday night show at a friend’s popular watering hole.

The Press Box was small but always brought in a decent crowd and a lot of friends, so it was kind of a second home to us. One particular evening it was a bit busier than usual. It might have been a holiday weekend when people have Monday off. I recall having a few drinks and a good time while we were playing. I was in the middle of a guitar solo when I looked up and saw three guys walk into the bar wearing what I thought were costumes.

The three guys were covered with sheets and had pillowcases with cut-out eyeholes over their heads.
I thought it was a joke until I saw each of them had pistols with barrels the size of a baby’s arm! I quickly realized this was no joke and set my guitar down. The rest of the band stopped playing as the crooks started shouting for everyone to throw their wallets and purses out in front of them.

One of the threatening pillowcase-clad trio members was screaming at the bartender to open the safe, grab the weekend’s deposits, and add in the cash in the registers.
I was wondering whether they were going to start shooting and wondering if I’d be alive after it was over.

They ended up taking the audience’s wallets and purses. Oddly, except for our band mate Clee Lasiter’s wallet, the crooks left the rest of the bands’ wallets intact.
After the incident, I was flooded with a feeling of peace that came over me as the police showed up to take the report. I found out a few years later that they were hitting all of the bars in that area of Charlotte and some other areas. One night, they weren’t so lucky, and one of them ended up getting shot by a bar owner. The last I heard they were all in prison, and the guy that got shot was paralyzed.

Ummmm. Speechless. We’ll be reading this on our latest Podcast, for sure.

You need to write a book! For real.