Good morning everyone ! I have a great Dingwall story that should elicit a chuckle.
Played a local blue collar bar this weekend, Friday and Saturday night. Seasoned crowd (as in my age). Bikers, regulars, pool hustlers, etc.
In spite of playing here prior, Friday was just weird. Crowd was very subdued. One of the waitresses explained that the bar had been dead for the last 4 weeks and they had no idea why. It was one of those gigs that you knew you just had to dig deep and play like you were playing for a couple of thousand folks. Bottom line was that those that were there had a great time.
Walked in Saturday night hoping that things would be normal for lack of a better term. I was a little self-conscious as I thought my attire was a tad ridiculous for a 50 year old. I had about sweated to death the night prior and decided to ditch the long sleeve collared shirt in favor of T shirt. My wife told me I looked fine and NOT like I was trying way too hard, attempting to recapture my youth.
Way more people in the bar which was great. I ganked it up a hair during the first set on some minor stuff, but finally buckled down. (sorry for the diatribe but it supports the story.)
We fire up the second set. Bar is really starting to hop. Band is playing well. Dance floor is packed. We are clearly doing our job.
While on the Ding, some monster of a guy walks right up to the front of the stage in front of me with this very serious look on his face. I didn't think anything of it initially. But he stood there through 3 or 4 songs, burning holes through me. It was so disconcerting that I was certain that my zipper was down and that I was trolling.
Now understand that we are a classic rock/southern rock/modern country band. We don't play a single song in which the bass work would possibly wow anyone. Especially my chops. Anything we play can be picked up just listening to the tune, or via YouTube in about 5 minutes. I just stayed focused and in the pocket, and tried not to pee the bed.
After the set was over, this monster of a guy walks around the side of the stage where I set my basses and says, " Holy Sh!t ! That is a Dingwall Super J5. You're playing a Dingwall in HERE ?"
Turned about to be a great guy. We talked a number of times between sets about basses and gear.
So here is the punch line. 3rd set, dance floor is humpin' and bumpin' thanks to a huge bachelorette party. We're playing a Headhunter's song that has some blistering pick work in it, at least for my skills. It's just one of those times that exemplifies why we do what we do.
We flat tore the song up. Crowd is cheering. And through all of this I hear this huge booming voice yell..........
"SHELDON F%^K&*() DINGWALL !"
I cracked up laughing! Even the rest of the band busted out laughing.
It surely wasn't about me. But that Super J tone clearly spoke to someone ~!
I will post up a pic of my ridiculous attire when I receive the pics on Tuesday. You'll understand my discomfort.
