Gig nightmare!!! Submit yours here...

hawker

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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. Looking back, I should have worn a short, sleeveless wetsuit like Corey did in the video, rather than the full-length one my friend had.

Best,

853guy
Playing in a wetsuit....I can't possibly imagine that. And people are amazed to see and hear that I played in a suit and tie most of my life! :)
 
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cruddola

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I believe I mentioned this nightmare before. Anyhow, I gotta take in my rebellious sister as my roadie for an eight-month tour after she got kicked out of the house. Every dude was clawing their way at an attempt to have her. There's two sisters, but Lucy was the lesser of two evils. She's a year older, but I still get hit for having such a beautiful grand daughter. She was nothing less than a musician's and concert-goer's catnip. It got so bad I went to a pawn shop and bought crappy wedding rings, staged a phony wedding and stashed photos of it in every case to show. Even that didn't work on occasion! But, dude, she could sell merch! On a few shows, right after the last song, she'd run up the front of the frigging stage and jump on me wrapping herself around and landing a nasty kiss on my lips. I fell over a few times. Really set me off! The bands and their crews never suspected anything! They came to enjoy it! The crowds loved it. It became our closing. I hated it!! One time she had shared a blunt with the bassist's wife and muttered it was our "5-year wedding anniversary". The band's and crew's girls dolled her up like a Motley Crue trophy-girl. We had opened for Molly Hatchet. She did her usual stage run, but the blunt decided it was better that she slip and crash head-first into the drums to the wildest ovation I've ever witnessed by any band! Molly Hatchet's people were mighty pissed-off! Hollywood could never have dreamed of such a scene! The most regretted drumming moment in my life! I was known to have "That Roadie" for a long time. She'd set up my drums perfectly. That night Lucy lost her overly under-boobed three-inch long t-shirt to a bass drum spur after spilling me off the riser and the guitarist over ripping it completely off. She calmly took an exceedingly long bow sporting only an equally long all frontal and butt-out ragged jean-skirt that had worked it's way up around her belly-button to an endless sea of people. YIKES!! It was her first and last time ever with dope of any kind. We were kicked outta the band and our hotel-stay was cancelled. That act of stupidity haunted me outta two well-paying gigs. It pains me to even write this. Every once in a while she'll come over wearing that ragged strip of denim over her nasty yoga tights and that t-shirt collar with two tiny sleeves attached just to set me off. Bruce Crump was the only one to have the balls to autograph it. I have another painful one with Lucy in Dublin, but that's another story, LOL. Good drumming to you, Cheers!
 
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Corbin L Douthitt

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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.
you got paid well, I hope!!
 

Fisken

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I’ve had a few nightmare scenarios, some are just due to my not knowing any better, like when my right hand is starting to go numb and I am desperately trying to move the drumstick to another grip. Switching it to between other sets of fingers works ok for a bit, but then I start to tear the skin out because there aren’t any callouses and the way the stick is moving gives no relief after a few minutes and I’ll switch back but my hand is just dying with every hit Shake it off to try to get blood back in it between songs and do it all over again. Maybe I need gloves, or some lessons on stick control? I don’t know, it has gotten a bit better but still happens occasionally.

The next one involves a hydraulic thone for a back line kit I used one night playing with a ska band in Seattle, wa. The kit seems like it would be close enough to my setup, for an hour and a half set…. But then I realized the upwards motion for the hydraulic throne was stronger and faster than the downwards settling and that the maximum “tempo” of the seat was slower than many of our faster songs. So my ass was stuck at a slower tempo than the song, which left my legs flailing for the ground and the bass and hi hats - it was ridiculous. Also very hard to explain, ugh.
 

squidart

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First out of town gig at 17. Two hour drive and woops, forgot my cymbals. All shops closed for the day. Fortunately after a few frantic calls by the kindly bartender I had a loaner set at the very last minute.
A brief nightmare but I never forgot my pies again. Not saying it won't happen again as I'm just a tad (Lol) older now and prone to forgetting... wait, what were we talking about?
 

varatrodder

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First out of town gig at 17. Two hour drive and woops, forgot my cymbals. All shops closed for the day. Fortunately after a few frantic calls by the kindly bartender I had a loaner set at the very last minute.
A brief nightmare but I never forgot my pies again. Not saying it won't happen again as I'm just a tad (Lol) older now and prone to forgetting... wait, what were we talking about?
I've done that, too. Left my cymbals upstairs in the office.
 

zep1

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Holy cow! Dragging up old memories I'd sometimes rather forget. In 1973 when I was in 10th grade, my 3 piece rock band was playing at my high school's senior play party at a local Masonic Temple hall. We set up in the back of the room facing the front door of the building. My bass player and I took a hit of window pane acid before we started. Needless to say, it was a mind bending experience. Halfway through our second set, the leather strap on my Ludwig Speed King kick drum pedal decided it didn't want to be one piece anymore. After the set, a friend of mine (he was trippin', too) and I went on a search for a wire coat hanger that I could bend up and use to replace the strap. We looked throughout the place, but to no avail. In the back behind the kitchen, we found a door that led to the basement. Given what that mess does to your mind, as soon as the door closed all the noise from the party seemed to fall silent. We were in a dark, dingy basement trying to find anything I could use to fix the pedal. Alex found a light switch and OMG!! Staring at us from across the basement was a stack of about fifty cases of beer! Of course, being young, stupid and tripping, we decided to steal a couple by shoving them through the little window to the alley. Suddenly, we were again aware of all the noise from upstairs except that it seemed ten times louder now. We managed to get two cases out and, of course, Alex cut his hand. We made it back upstairs to the party and our paranoia made us sure that everyone and their brother knew of our dastardly deed. We never found a coat hanger and I finished the gig literally kicking my kick drum. But what put the exclamation point on the evening was that when the party was over and the crowd left the hall, I called Alex over and pointed to the front of the hall. He almost mess his pants. We didn't see it earlier because of all the people, but on either side of the front door were two recessed areas with closet poles and about 50 or 60 wire coat hangers.

At another gig at a Jr. HS dance, someone gave me a couple of black beauties. We recorded the gig. The next day we listened to the tapes. Every song started out at the required tempo for that song but ended like we were playing the Flight of the Bumblebee.

It's amazing I survived that era of my life.
 

BennyK

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The Congolese band I drummed in was sharing the bill with a Haitian band on one show . The Haitian drummer decided he liked my bass drum better than his .... I stood my ground but that was the last straw and after three years of it I quit their scene . Ya live, ya learn
 
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Techhead

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Two memorable events come to mind...

Sometime in the late 1970s we got a last minute booking for a wedding reception at a local fire company hall. It's not really a event hall, they just pull the fire trucks out and you get the space. Anyway, as we're setting up in a corner, it's becomes apparent that this is a sketchy, low budget affair. It's a hot summer day now with about 150 beer fueled guests. Musically things go well, lots of dancing and we're rocking out the last song of final set when a full-blown, kicking and screaming, hair-pulling, sweep the floor fight breaks out between the BRIDE and another girl, who turns out is an old flame of the groom. In seconds another 20 people join in, taking sides and adding to the mayhem. I think it was the quickest we ever tore down and loaded out through the rumble.

4 years ago, different band, our vocalist/rhythmically-challenged keyboard player/wannabe band manager gets us involved for a biker themed, rain or shine, first time outdoor community event...4 or 5 bands will be playing for the day. He had a habit of over-promising just to get gigs and this time was no different.

Before I even knew about the job, he tells the event organizers to let the other bands know that I will share MY full drum setup AND full PA AND all-day services running sound in addition to the four of us playing 2 hours for $200 total! "Oh, but we're the featured band and we'll be under a big tent so weather won't be a problem" he proudly says. After chewing him out, I thankfully was able to get in touch with one of the SANE organizers and got contact info for the other bands. I was able to tell them all you run with what you bring...NO drums or PA provided.

It gets worse...apparently two of the inexperienced women organizers that are involved fail to plan that bikers are not gonna be out en masse if the weather is bad. No rain date...

The morning of the event, it's a miserable, cloudy, misty, 45 degree day and only looks to get worse later. We get there and there's maybe 6 bikes and 10 people there. The "big tent" is a pop-up and we're on already damp grass. As we start setting up we learn that the first 2 bands never showed. Minutes before we start, it starts raining more heavily. 3 songs in, the last bike pulls out and two municipal workers show up to shut the thing down, the organizers having already left. We never get the lousy $200.
 

drummer5359

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Gig nightmare? The title of this thread is particularly appropriate for the story that I'm going to relate.

This happened the beginning of February in 2018. I wrote the story down at the time, here is as I remembered it the following morning.



" I have not made up my mind whether or not to share this story with the general public, but I have to share it with you guys for your amusement. Tonight I did something rather remarkable, and I'm not sure if I should be proud or embarrassed. Actually, I am proud and embarrassed simultaneously.

A little back ground. Friday night I was staging gear for my Saturday gig. My knee went out and I fell to the ground. I was in a lot of pain and had trouble sleeping Friday night. Actually, I pretty much didn't sleep at all. Normally I load the van my self, and then pickup my nephew who helps the band as a roadie. He helps with load in, set up, tear down and load out. At the end of the night he helps me unload into my rehearsal space in the basement and I take him home. (He doesn't drive.) Because of my injury I picked him up and brought him back to my house early Saturday afternoon and he helped me load the van. We got to the gig and set up.

Everything was going fine, except that I was incredibly tired. The first set went perfect. We had a good sized and enthusiastic crowd who danced for every song. The owner was there and loved us. During the first break she booked us for another gig, this time in November. So far, so good.

That's when it got weird. If you had asked me yesterday if the next event was even possible, I'd have said no. We started the set with "Simple man", I fell sound asleep during the song, but I kept playing. I kept good time, was playing rolls and finished the song. But, I kept dozing off. It happened during every song in the second set, all fourteen of them. Our bass player never noticed. Both guitarists (including my brother) knew something was not quite right, but they didn't know what. Our singer did realize what was going on, he was horrified and scared to death, but also stunned that I kept time okay and never stopped playing. We made it through the whole set somehow, we had people dancing the entire time. The crowd still loved us and never realized what was going on. I flubbed a few cues, since I was sleeping, but the train never went off of the tracks. It was like being in the middle of a "Twilight Zone" episode.

I drank a bunch of Pepsi during the second break and we made it through the third set without incident. It has to be the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me in all of these years of performing. And now at 7:20 the next morning, I'm still awake. lol."
 

mebeatee

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Gig nightmare? The title of this thread is particularly appropriate for the story that I'm going to relate.

This happened the beginning of February in 2018. I wrote the story down at the time, here is as I remembered it the following morning.



" I have not made up my mind whether or not to share this story with the general public, but I have to share it with you guys for your amusement. Tonight I did something rather remarkable, and I'm not sure if I should be proud or embarrassed. Actually, I am proud and embarrassed simultaneously.

A little back ground. Friday night I was staging gear for my Saturday gig. My knee went out and I fell to the ground. I was in a lot of pain and had trouble sleeping Friday night. Actually, I pretty much didn't sleep at all. Normally I load the van my self, and then pickup my nephew who helps the band as a roadie. He helps with load in, set up, tear down and load out. At the end of the night he helps me unload into my rehearsal space in the basement and I take him home. (He doesn't drive.) Because of my injury I picked him up and brought him back to my house early Saturday afternoon and he helped me load the van. We got to the gig and set up.

Everything was going fine, except that I was incredibly tired. The first set went perfect. We had a good sized and enthusiastic crowd who danced for every song. The owner was there and loved us. During the first break she booked us for another gig, this time in November. So far, so good.

That's when it got weird. If you had asked me yesterday if the next event was even possible, I'd have said no. We started the set with "Simple man", I fell sound asleep during the song, but I kept playing. I kept good time, was playing rolls and finished the song. But, I kept dozing off. It happened during every song in the second set, all fourteen of them. Our bass player never noticed. Both guitarists (including my brother) knew something was not quite right, but they didn't know what. Our singer did realize what was going on, he was horrified and scared to death, but also stunned that I kept time okay and never stopped playing. We made it through the whole set somehow, we had people dancing the entire time. The crowd still loved us and never realized what was going on. I flubbed a few cues, since I was sleeping, but the train never went off of the tracks. It was like being in the middle of a "Twilight Zone" episode.

I drank a bunch of Pepsi during the second break and we made it through the third set without incident. It has to be the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me in all of these years of performing. And now at 7:20 the next morning, I'm still awake. lol."
Not a gig nightmare by any means but the subject matter....!!!!
I was involved in an amazing project and one of the “songs”......

#9 - The Man Who Was Fast Asleep - recorded during our Resident/Child workshop. Marjorie mesmerized the group with the story of her very talented brother that used to fall asleep while playing the drums. Wonderful.

Audio link....scroll down to the man who was fast asleep....


bt
 

Michael M.

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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. Looking back, I should have worn a short, sleeveless wetsuit like Corey did in the video, rather than the full-length one my friend had.

Best,

853guy
I used to suction dredge for gold. Yeah those wet suits are not for land lovers. You are lucky you didn't have a heat stroke.
 

Ringofanatic1940

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We were halfway through Pinball Wizard, our last song of the set. I stand up and try to work the crowd but I feel a flick on my shin. The whole felt top of my kick pedal beater flew off! I jump back into the song intending to play the kick as little as possible and potentially substitute those hits on my low floor tom. After ending the song, crashing out, and doing a bit of a drum solo, I check the kick head and I punctured it! At least it was the last song...
 

Michael M.

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Let's see, I guess it's a toss-up between:

• The time the band showed up to sound check and the roadies hadn't been able to set up the drums because the hardware case had fallen out of the (left-open) back door of the truck and was lost on a road somewhere between there and the previous-night's gig a couple-hundred miles away...*

• The time a roadie was accidentally set on fire while reloading pyro boxes between sets...**

• The time we played an elementary school dance where the singer and I caught the chicken-pox (it subsequently cost us a week's worth of gigs)...

• The two weeks I had to play with my right wrist completely immobilized in an Ace bandage because I had developed tendinitis...

• The week I had to play holding my right stick between my forefinger and middle finger because I had smashed my right thumb while filling in for an absent roadie...

• The two or three times I had to finish a set using my left bass drum "side-saddle" after breaking the strap on my right bass drum pedal, or the one time I had to do it after putting the pedal beater shaft through the batter head because the beater head had come off (from then on nothing but chain-drive for this drummer)...

• The gig we had to cancel because a roadie had rolled our equipment truck into a ditch while reaching for a spoon so he could eat his yogurt while driving...

• The time our singer was electrocuted after grabbing the mic while touching a bare toe to the metal flatbed truck bed that served as a stage at an outdoor gig. He hit the deck out cold; the audience thought it was part of the show. We ended the song (last one of the set, fortunately), carried him offstage and revived him. He never wore open-toed shoes on stage again...

• Or the countless times we played a full night (four 50-minute sets) and never had more than six or eight people in the audience.

• On the other side of the coin, one night we were all set to go on stage to play a high-school dance when the principal told us they were cancelling the dance because the weather service was predicting an incoming blizzard. They paid us in full, but we felt bad for the kids (and the blizzard never materialized).


*A drumset had been stored at the club, and after plying its owner with alcohol and $$ we were able to do the gig. Honest people found my hardware case in a ditch next to a farmer's field and contacted us because we put business cards inside of every case. We got it back in time for the next gig.

**He spent a couple of days in the hospital with second-degree burns but rejoined us at the end of our stay at the club. He finally quit after he and another roadie survived crashing a rental truck into a tree at 50mph (they had fallen asleep at the wheel). P.S. The pyro incident was my fault — I had been absent-mindedly flipping switches on the lighting console between sets and didn't realize that I had set the pyros to 'live'.
I've never had it happen, but the beater felt coming off sounds like a regular thing. And playing all night to less than ten people just made me want to cut my throat between sets. That's the worst.
 

Michael M.

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Ooooh I got loads of those!!

This was in the late 90's, we were playing at this big club with my former band and there were two biker dudes with their female escorts near the front row. At that time we had a single that was a big hit on local radios. During the break, the manager comes in our dressing room all flustered and says : "Well we have a delicate situation here and I got to ask you something." Well, the boss of the Quebec chapter of the Hell's Angels had just recently been incarcerated after a highly mediatised sting and trial. It turns out that the 2 biker dudes were his Lieutenants. He was supposedly a big fan of our song and was listenning the show from his cell through a mobile phone and wanted this song of ours dedicated to him. I was the lead singer then, so that query fell under my jurisdiction.

I was really in a pickle because, 1- I don't KNOW the guy and 2- I don't want to be associated in any way shape or form, but 3- I still would appreciate keeping my pearly whites and kneecaps intact. So I mull it over for the remainder of the break and we head back on stage. One of the dudes points to the cell phone in his right hand. So I take a deep breath, I muster all the diplomatic skills I can channel and say "To kick off our second set, we'd like to warmly dedicate this song to a VERY special person who unfortunately could not be here tonight..." the cell phone guy looked at me right in the eye while putting the phone to his ear and after what seemed to me like an hour, nodded to me ever so slightly and extended his arm, phone mic pointed towards the stage. So we played the song and we were given handshakes that could've pulverized a billiard ball as thank yous after the show.

I had another nightmarish gig about 3 years ago. I was playing this big televised 4th of july type of event in Winipeg, Manitoba (2 thousand miles away from home). My girlfriend of 5 years and I had been fighting a lot for a few months, but I thought the time away would somehow be good. First there was a tornado warning for the area we were playing in and the organisers decided to still go on with the show. The Stage-Line, lighting rig and PA rocked hard and were completely drenched just moments before showcall. The site that held maybe 5000 people emptied out, down to maybe 7-800 people. And then the coup-de-grace was when I checked my phone a few minutes before going on stage (I was first on the bill) and found out the GF had switched her FB status to "single". Of course, I couldn't change the setlist because, on a TV show, with a house band, you just can't. Aaaaand... I was kicking of the show with a song about HER... Here I was, devastated, guitar in hand, in front of an empty field, on a dangerously rocking and dreched stage, playing a lovesong I wrote about her, with close-ups of my miserable face broadcasted on 3 giant screens and recorded for National TV... Fun factor: Minus infinity....!!!
To the first story, You Sir are a true diplomat.
The second, Oh Crud !
 

Michael M.

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Mine are super tame compared to a lot of yours. I've had my beater wiggle itself loose from the pedal and go flying off in the middle of a song, I've ripped my pants right at the crotch while stepping up on the stage to start a set, we had a light set up of 4 fluorescent lights set up vertically, and we had a controller box made for it so a friend of ours could control it during the set. Somehow one of the lights got bumped or something, and of course it falls on top of me while playing. So that was fun. And then another time I started the wrong click and we played a song about 10 bpm faster than it should be. Those are all I can remember right now.
It's the little things that keep gigs from being boring.
 

Michael M.

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I believe I mentioned this nightmare before. Anyhow, I gotta take in my rebellious sister as my roadie for an eight-month tour after she got kicked out of the house. Every dude was clawing their way at an attempt to have her. There's two sisters, but Lucy was the lesser of two evils. She's a year older, but I still get hit for having such a beautiful grand daughter. She was nothing less than a musician's and concert-goer's catnip. It got so bad I went to a pawn shop and bought crappy wedding rings, staged a phony wedding and stashed photos of it in every case to show. Even that didn't work on occasion! But, dude, she could sell merch! On a few shows, right after the last song, she'd run up the front of the frigging stage and jump on me wrapping herself around and landing a nasty kiss on my lips. I fell over a few times. Really set me off! The bands and their crews never suspected anything! They came to enjoy it! The crowds loved it. It became our closing. I hated it!! One time she had shared a blunt with the bassist's wife and muttered it was our "5-year wedding anniversary". The band's and crew's girls dolled her up like a Motley Crue trophy-girl. We had opened for Molly Hatchet. She did her usual stage run, but the blunt decided it was better that she slip and crash head-first into the drums to the wildest ovation I've ever witnessed by any band! Molly Hatchet's people were mighty pissed-off! Hollywood could never have dreamed of such a scene! The most regretted drumming moment in my life! I was known to have "That Roadie" for a long time. She'd set up my drums perfectly. That night Lucy lost her overly under-boobed three-inch long t-shirt to a bass drum spur after spilling me off the riser and the guitarist over ripping it completely off. She calmly took an exceedingly long bow sporting only an equally long all frontal and butt-out ragged jean-skirt that had worked it's way up around her belly-button to an endless sea of people. YIKES!! It was her first and last time ever with dope of any kind. We were kicked outta the band and our hotel-stay was cancelled. That act of stupidity haunted me outta two well-paying gigs. It pains me to even write this. Every once in a while she'll come over wearing that ragged strip of denim over her nasty yoga tights and that t-shirt collar with two tiny sleeves attached just to set me off. Bruce Crump was the only one to have the balls to autograph it. I have another painful one with Lucy in Dublin, but that's another story, LOL. Good drumming to you, Cheers!
Come on man, don't hold out on the Dublin story. I'm moving off grid soon, so please give it to us.
 

cruddola

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Come on man, don't hold out on the Dublin story. I'm moving off grid soon, so please give it to us.
Just for you, alright? I had gotten time off the job and I went to visit my two sisters up in the central Dublin outskirts. Lucy and Marty were with friends set on celebrating a multi family-baptismal. I was a Yankee stationed with the two guys who were dating my sisters. Nine Irish families is a friggin army!! This was during their 'Troubles' of the early 80's. Taits vs Proddies. Catholics vs Protestants. RUC/IRA/Sinn Finn, magic that goes boom, you get the picture. To avoid rival problems the roofs of commercial/industrial buildings were commonly used as makeshift venues. Considered safer than getting caught by rivals in an enclosed area. Weddings were done like this too. This one had 5-foot of concrete wall above the roofline. There were about 600 people in attendance. I'd categorize them as "Tough-skinned folks". They were probably related to the frigging Krays. The hired band lost their drummer to another stinking Garda checkpoint on the way to this gathering. There ain't a local Irish band existing that doesn't have a member or two most-wanted by the authorities! Of course, my sister Lucy rats me out as a drummer. I set up his scarred 5-piece Premiere-made Yamaha with a 26-inch bass drum. Two bullet holes on the floor tom. All Paiste cymbals. Beautiful to look at as their sound. The riser was a couple of sheets of rotted plywood over half-broken milk crates. A heavy, thick and fine-meshed fishnet caught what is called Irish Rain stretched over the so-called stage. WOW!! The band, "The Despots" were masters at playing Motown covers. They knew over a hundred songs by heart! Name the group, singer, male or female. I was hearing and playing with them. Voices were perfect. I guess the Proddies didn't like the music. They came out of the concrete work in droves bombing us with anything they could throw. Gunfire coming from below. At least a hundred showed up to bomb the party. Not a soul got hit! From Irish grenades (a stone) to an Irish Spring (a firebomb) the party went on as if nothing extraordinary went on. This was common. Everybody is calm. I can barley hold on to my sticks with an a$$ pucker factor of 20 and sweaty hands for three hours on a rickety riser. Unbelievable! The Bass-player's amp got hit with a cobblestone the size of a softball during "Get Ready". Still thumping his bass without missing a beat, calmly walks to the roof's edge, pulls out a pistol and empties the magazine at the folks below. He was aiming at individuals! A kid goes up to his side, takes another magazine from the Bass' case, takes the pistol, inserts the new magazine, racks the slide chambering a round and hands it to the lead guitarist who repeats the shooting! All seven members take their turn! All while the music seamlessly goes on. Holy crap!! Some brave fool tosses up an Irish Spring. The flame went out before hitting a table nearby that was the makeshift bar. Bottle still intact, a friggin pre-teen girl takes it to an older dude who's asleep with a frigging lit cigarette in his mouth. She pulls his cigarette from his lips, takes a hit for herself, adjusts the rag, shakes the bottle and re-lights it returning the cigarette to the old man's mouth. She tosses it back to those below. Someone got cooked! After playing Stevie Wonder's "Uptight" all could hear the screams of those cooked below. Whoever got cooked below was celebrated by tipping back shots of booze by those on the roof. Crap like this was normal. The absolute lousiest stage ever! Even the Blues Brothers had it better! I got 20 lousy Quid!
 
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