- May 7, 2020
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wow...that reminds me of a wedding reception I played decades ago.we had to set up on the lawn of this big house.so we're playing...and getting bit by mosquitos constantly...someone in the house brought us down a box of fabric softener sheets to wipe ourselves down with because they evidently double as mosquito repellent...well they worked to a degree...but not well enough...the band leader shut the band down after 2 sets saying we would not play under those conditions...incredibly we got full pay and the hosts understood...Played at a bonfire. Mosquitoes were biting the heck out of us. Then the band leader thought it was a great idea to have BOTH female lead singers without one bit of rhythm play tambourines and that was all I could in my in ear monitors.
tambourines + most singers = death.Played at a bonfire. Mosquitoes were biting the heck out of us. Then the band leader thought it was a great idea to have BOTH female lead singers without one bit of rhythm play tambourines and that was all I could in my in ear monitors.
This one made me laugh! you had to have preictally smothered in that wet suit!When Living Colour released "Cult of Personality", I thought playing in a wetsuit was the coolest possible thing anyone had ever done. I was sixteen.
My band at the time landed a gig 989km away in front of two hundred people, requiring us to drive through the night to get there in a borrowed van. I decided this would be the perfect opportunity to play my trusty Swingstar and steal the show by wearing my friend's wetsuit. We were going to be remembered forever.
As I counted in and we played the first note, only myself and our bass player could be heard. Our guitarist had a problem. Unsure what to do, the bassist and I continued to play the intro for three minutes while our guitarist furiously tried everything he could to fix the problem with help from stageside.
During those three minutes, I discovered that wetsuits may look cool, but they are 1) incredibly stiff to play in when filled with dried-up salt water, and 2) on land, under stage lights, incredibly hot.
Eventually, the only solution for our guitarist was to swap guitars with the opening act. We readied ourselves, and...
The replacement guitar was tuned a step higher. Try as he might - and he tried real hard - he only managed to transpose every second or third chord correctly, meaning the entire song was a wildly dissonant mess of clashing chords, and as a bonus, I very nearly passed out from the heat.
It probably was memorable. But not quite for the reasons I was hoping.
Lol! I have had a good laugh at some of these stories...Many moons ago, the band I was in played a backyard party. It was at a huge house with an equally huge backyard. We built a full-on stage and had a two-car garage door on milk crates for the drum riser. Our bass player had this huge red & white striped parachute that we draped over the stages because it "looked cool".
After an afternoon of pre-party keg privilege's, we got ready to start playing. I neglected to realize my drum throne was riiiiiiiight on the edge of the drum riser. I sauntered up to my drums with a red Solo cup of libation and sat down. My bass player said he had looked around at me and all he saw was elbows and ankles going over the edge. Then all of a sudden I popped up from behind the stage with my drink in my hand and hadn't spilled a drop!
I had something similar happen a couple years ago.Long story short. I had a guy threaten me more than once simply because I was dating his ex.
As a convicted felon, for many previous assaults, my reporting him landed him back in jail for 6 months. He was big, crazy, and a hardened criminal.
Sure enough, after he was released, he showed up at one of our gigs.
I told my bandmates and friends that were there that I may need help.
He did step up, spew a lot of drunken talk, but nothing more.
I did take advantage of my ability to carry concealed for awhile after that.
When that famous drummer Roger Hawkins recently died, I was reading an interview he did and it sounded like he didn’t even like doing gigs. He said in the beginning of his career he played a lot of bars and there was lots of bar fights and people gave him a hard time because he wore glasses and he said the hell with this and turned to studio drumming.It’s so true that the gigs that are smooth sailing have less of a place in our memory than some of the disasters. Who knows why? At any rate: through all the blown power shows, bar room and parking lot brawls that got the plug pulled on us, a drunk that cut one of our 18” subwoofer speakers in the bass bin to screw with our quad sound,
electrical storms that barreled through to kill the night, on and on; the worst for me was caused by a little lock nut that held the felt beater on my pedal. 3 minutes into a 5 song Zep Medley, my felt flew off and the entire rod cut through the head. That was a major embarrassment and when you are playing Achilles Last Stand into Bring It On Home into The Ocean into Nobody’s Fault But Mine into The Immigrant Song you cannot get away with no bass drum. That sucked!
D level strippers?It involved playing a Hell's Angel wake, bikers laying patches inside the bar on carpet, finding a piece of a ear (I think?) in the guys bathroom, and playing 'Born to be wild' 6 times in a row, surrounded by D level strippers. I'll leave it at that.
Wow. Just wow. Where do I even begin?!?Sorry guys, I win this thread hands down...
I got hired in 93' to sub in a wedding band. Their drummer was sick. I lived about an hour and a half north of NYC and the gig was just north of the city in Westchester. In good weather, a 50 minute drive. It started snowing heavily in the morning of the gig. The forecast was for a full-blown Nor'easter. I called and the wedding was still on. For a 7pm start time, I left the house at 12 noon in my crappy Dodge Caravan. Roads sucked and I averaged about 10 miles or less an hour. I was dressed in my tux, all ready to go.
The road had been very hard to navigate, with deep slush and icy ruts. I finally made it onto the Tappan Zee bridge about 4pm, as it was getting dark. The road seemed even rougher than normal, so I pulled over to check the car. I stepped out into above ankle slush, soaking my tux pants, socks, and dress shoes in icy goodness. I figured out the problem. I had blown a tire somewhere. The road had been so bad, I didn't notice. All that was left was a rim. My spare was flat.
Keep in mind this was before cell phones. No one would stop. Finally, a state trooper stopped and called for a wrecker. I asked the cop what time estimate he was given and he told 4, maybe 5 hours. I offered him 20 bucks and begged him to take me to the gig. He said no, but he'd make a call to the band leader for 20 bucks. I had him tell the band leader the problem and to find another drummer. I never made it to the gig and didn't get off the bridge until 12am.
The tow truck dropped me off at a gas station. It was the classic "How much do I owe you?" "How much you got?" situation. He basically cleaned me out of all money I had on hand. I got the spare filled, put it on myself (again, in my tux) and started the drive home.
The band leader was unable to get another drummer in that weather and on short notice, so the band played with no drummer and the wedding party was NOT happy. I finally made it home at 6 am, 18 hours after I left the house. I made no money and paid 60 for the tow and 20 for the phone call from the cop. The tux and shoes were ruined, I got a case of walking pneumonia, and the band never called me again. And I had to buy a new tire.