Back in the 90's a girl asked to sit on my bass cabinet. I obliged.
After sliding the 40 Hz slider on my EQ all the way up.
Something could have been blown doing that.
Enjoy the benefits of a premium membership!
Upgrade Account
-
TalkBass has been independent since 1998. Add your voice.
Create a free account to reply to discussions, view embedded media, and browse with fewer display ads.
Join free Log in
Want zero display ads or expanded classifieds tools? Compare plans.
Drunk guy didn't like my playing.
- Thread starter bassplayer1494
- Start date
Something could have been blown doing that.
Must have been the times... Around '90-'91 I had a bartender stick a pistol in my face in our dressing room. Commanded 'Suck My *!!!'. Too many witnesses to fire a shot (or the other thing either
) all I could do was stare him down while everyone else called him a f* idiot. Longer term the guy turned out to be a creeper, inviting people to sleep over, spare them from risking their drive home. My drummer took him up on the sleep over not knowing and ended up swatting off an aggressive attempted molester until he had to leave.
My favorite:
Playing in a Neil Young cover band when I was 20 (1989) at a place called Geno's - Portland's equivalent of CBGB's. Anyway, our LG/LS is wandering around the nearly empty club playing his guitar and with his harmonica. This drunk guy comes up to him and says "Gimme da Harp!" so LG/LS does. Drunk guy douses it in a beer to clean it. LG/LS gets all offended, takes it from him and goes backstage. All night, for three hours, this guy is in LG/LS's face screaming "Gimme da Harp! Gimme da Harp! Blues Jam!". Periodically, the bartender would call him over to get a beer and then drunk guy would be right back at it. Poor LG/LS almost cracked but managed to hold it together.
Playing in a Neil Young cover band when I was 20 (1989) at a place called Geno's - Portland's equivalent of CBGB's. Anyway, our LG/LS is wandering around the nearly empty club playing his guitar and with his harmonica. This drunk guy comes up to him and says "Gimme da Harp!" so LG/LS does. Drunk guy douses it in a beer to clean it. LG/LS gets all offended, takes it from him and goes backstage. All night, for three hours, this guy is in LG/LS's face screaming "Gimme da Harp! Gimme da Harp! Blues Jam!". Periodically, the bartender would call him over to get a beer and then drunk guy would be right back at it. Poor LG/LS almost cracked but managed to hold it together.
You haven’t seen drunks until you play on a cruise ship in Helsinki.
JeezyMcNuggles
Inactive
- Feb 23, 2018
- 14,723
- 20,970
- Disclosures
- I suck, but nobody really notices
Story #1. Circa 1999-2000.
We were playing one of our regular gigs with a new drummer, having fired Mugsy, our original drummer who was basically the town drunk (currently dead from liver failure).
A bar regular (and friend of Mugsy) came in and asked, "Where's Mugsy?" as we were playing. After a few drinks the guy walks up the the stage flipping a two-handed bird proclaiming,"You f-ing suck!", repeating the act ever few minutes. We eventually lost sight of him in the crowd, but when we eventually got a glimpse of him he was at the bar, grooving to the music. He stayed until closing.
I guess we didn't suck after all.
Story #2.
A drunk came up and said, "I sing with [well known local band]. Can I 'Can't You See.'" This was before we figured out that anyone who asks to sit in sucks. Actually musicians wait to be asked.
As you probably know, "Can't You See" is the simplest of songs. |D|C|G|D| Rinse and repeat. We start the song and the guy came in on the wrong measure - he's a full measure behind the band - and didn't know the words. When we got to the first solo we all gave each the a look and we ended the song ASAP.
The guy exclaims, "You're playing the song all wrong! (we weren't) Especially the bass ands drums!" and stormed off stage.
I ran into him in the men's room later. "You guys don't know how to play that song!"
"We do. We've been playing it for years." I said. You came in on the wrong measure and didn't even know the words."
Him: "I know the words."
Me: "Clearly you don't, else you would have sung them."
Him: "I'll bet you a million dollars I know the words."
Me: "Deal. What's the first verse?"
Him: "Gonna take a freight train.....Then the secong verse goes...."
Me: "No, finish the first verse."
Him: "Gonna take a freight train.......uh.....gonna take a freight train..... "
Me: "You owe me a million dollars." I walked away.
I saw [well known local band]'s bandleader maybe a year later and told him this story.
"Oh, you mean that guy?" pointing to the drunk. He sees us all the time. We let him sing once. Never again."
We were playing one of our regular gigs with a new drummer, having fired Mugsy, our original drummer who was basically the town drunk (currently dead from liver failure).
A bar regular (and friend of Mugsy) came in and asked, "Where's Mugsy?" as we were playing. After a few drinks the guy walks up the the stage flipping a two-handed bird proclaiming,"You f-ing suck!", repeating the act ever few minutes. We eventually lost sight of him in the crowd, but when we eventually got a glimpse of him he was at the bar, grooving to the music. He stayed until closing.
I guess we didn't suck after all.
Story #2.
A drunk came up and said, "I sing with [well known local band]. Can I 'Can't You See.'" This was before we figured out that anyone who asks to sit in sucks. Actually musicians wait to be asked.
As you probably know, "Can't You See" is the simplest of songs. |D|C|G|D| Rinse and repeat. We start the song and the guy came in on the wrong measure - he's a full measure behind the band - and didn't know the words. When we got to the first solo we all gave each the a look and we ended the song ASAP.
The guy exclaims, "You're playing the song all wrong! (we weren't) Especially the bass ands drums!" and stormed off stage.
I ran into him in the men's room later. "You guys don't know how to play that song!"
"We do. We've been playing it for years." I said. You came in on the wrong measure and didn't even know the words."
Him: "I know the words."
Me: "Clearly you don't, else you would have sung them."
Him: "I'll bet you a million dollars I know the words."
Me: "Deal. What's the first verse?"
Him: "Gonna take a freight train.....Then the secong verse goes...."
Me: "No, finish the first verse."
Him: "Gonna take a freight train.......uh.....gonna take a freight train..... "
Me: "You owe me a million dollars." I walked away.
I saw [well known local band]'s bandleader maybe a year later and told him this story.
"Oh, you mean that guy?" pointing to the drunk. He sees us all the time. We let him sing once. Never again."
Not too many drunk stories, but here's one for y'all...
Many years ago, I 'm in a cover band & we're playing a private function for a group of 100 or so police detectives. Swat team are also there, not mixing with the rest. Our lead singer at the time, is sweet little "young looking" female. Actually a year or 2 older than me. Puts on different outfits, on different gigs. Tonight she's in her "school girl" outfit. Looks like a 15 year old, straight out of middle school.
I notice a particular heavy-set, sullen looking guy dropping shots all night and giving the band the sink-eye. We're playing standard rock & pop tunes. We start up a particularly funky disco-themed tune and I'm laying it down. The aforesaid girly singer comes up to me and starts gyrating and dry-humping my leg. All harmless fun, and part of her shtick.
After the tune, the heavy-set wasted guy comes up to me and tells me he's going to "do me" for being a pedophile !
I try to explain that she's older than me, it's all part of the show, etc. Nope, he's not having it. Anyway, his buddies came and took him away. But, he's totally fixated on me, for the rest of the show, while still slamming down shots.
I go out of there, real quick, as soon as we were done.
Many years ago, I 'm in a cover band & we're playing a private function for a group of 100 or so police detectives. Swat team are also there, not mixing with the rest. Our lead singer at the time, is sweet little "young looking" female. Actually a year or 2 older than me. Puts on different outfits, on different gigs. Tonight she's in her "school girl" outfit. Looks like a 15 year old, straight out of middle school.
I notice a particular heavy-set, sullen looking guy dropping shots all night and giving the band the sink-eye. We're playing standard rock & pop tunes. We start up a particularly funky disco-themed tune and I'm laying it down. The aforesaid girly singer comes up to me and starts gyrating and dry-humping my leg. All harmless fun, and part of her shtick.
After the tune, the heavy-set wasted guy comes up to me and tells me he's going to "do me" for being a pedophile !
I try to explain that she's older than me, it's all part of the show, etc. Nope, he's not having it. Anyway, his buddies came and took him away. But, he's totally fixated on me, for the rest of the show, while still slamming down shots.
I go out of there, real quick, as soon as we were done.
My unprofessional psychological opinion? The guy was attracted to this girl, knew he couldn't have her, and took his frustration out on you.
mrjim123 said: One of the biker chicks kept flashing her tata's at the band, and at everyone else. Nobody seemed to mind, though. 
As Melinda, the very attractive admin assistant in our office, said: "Hmph. Well, what's the fun of going to Mardis Gras if you can't tease the boys?"
(On the occasion when the police were trying to stop women from flashing the crowd from balconies.)
As Melinda, the very attractive admin assistant in our office, said: "Hmph. Well, what's the fun of going to Mardis Gras if you can't tease the boys?"
(On the occasion when the police were trying to stop women from flashing the crowd from balconies.)
Last edited:
I played at a small club within proximity to LaSalle Military College in Philly around '89-'90. There was a young, little guy sitting, stone faced, just glaring at me the whole time (oh, he don't like my playing!!) to the point where I was extremely self-conscious.
After the set he came up to me like a giddy 7 year old, (also bass player, self-admittedly and obviously sh*t-faced) with OMG, you're amazing, that was soooo goooood, ooooh your bass is awesome, how did you?... what was that thing you did?... (it was, I was meh considering I played about the worst set of my life due to the fear factor).
Kinda got over it quick, not the usual way a drunk can get under your skin. Man, I still get cringe chills thinking about that set more than 30 years later.
After the set he came up to me like a giddy 7 year old, (also bass player, self-admittedly and obviously sh*t-faced) with OMG, you're amazing, that was soooo goooood, ooooh your bass is awesome, how did you?... what was that thing you did?... (it was, I was meh considering I played about the worst set of my life due to the fear factor).
Kinda got over it quick, not the usual way a drunk can get under your skin. Man, I still get cringe chills thinking about that set more than 30 years later.
Three weeks ago we had cute but deeply drunk, outspoken blonde hanging all over our keyboardist. Sound like fun? Actually, he was getting pretty frustrated with it. Her state of mind precluded any restraint normal people have, and she pretty much talked at him throughout the first couple sets.
Then last week we were back, just loading in, and so was the cute drunk blonde, asking, "Where's ya'lls cute black keyboard player". BL and I were grabbing another load from the car when the keyboard player pulled up, and we just had to share the good news with him together. Too priceless.
Then the drummer pulled up, also African American. The keyboardist greeted him with words to the affect, "I'm sure glad you're black too".
Then last week we were back, just loading in, and so was the cute drunk blonde, asking, "Where's ya'lls cute black keyboard player". BL and I were grabbing another load from the car when the keyboard player pulled up, and we just had to share the good news with him together. Too priceless.
Then the drummer pulled up, also African American. The keyboardist greeted him with words to the affect, "I'm sure glad you're black too".
My favorite drunk-at-a-gig story, and I tell it with love in my heart:
We played a hotel corporate party in the early 90's when this Chairman of The Board named Harry Gray, who'd started drinking Vodka around 2:00 in the afternoon by some accounts, came out on the dance floor directly in front of the mains and started trying to force his executives into one-sided, drunken conversations.
To tactfully escape this kind of nonsense, we watched his executives, one-by-one, making the universal hand signal for "I can't hear you", and then dancing away with their wives.
So Harry barged his way up on the stage, grabbed a mic and demanded we stop and listen to him. "Turn it down half, HALF" he told us, and we obliged.
After still getting the "I can't hear you" signal from his executives (those clever bastards), Harry stormed up again and pitched a drunken, blue-blazing fit. Our front-man, Dennis, tried to calm him down, telling him "There's really no 'lower' volume we can turn down to", which was true - Our drummer was already playing with brushes and the party guests were having a hard time hearing a beat they could dance to.
Well, that REALLY wasn't what Harry wanted to hear. In fact, it pretty much lit a bottle rocket up his *ss, and everyone there then got to hear him explode in front of a live mic. "Do you know who I am? I'm friends with G-damned Al Haig, G-damnit, and I can have you killed for talking to me like that!"
Now earlier in the evening, Harry had given Dennis his business card, which Dennis now pulled out of his top pocket and said, still in front of a live mic, "I'll tell you who I think you are. You're NOTHING to me, you understand? NOTHING." and then ripped the card up in Harry's face and walked off stage.
You could've heard a pin drop in that ballroom.
I grabbed a mic and practically whispered, "uh, the band is going to take a short break, uh thanks." and joined everyone else in quick retreat.
As we sat backstage in the kitchen staff lounge contemplating getting paid for a very short first set, the president of the company came back and reassured us. He said they were going to try and get Harry to go up to his hotel room to get some rest so they could all enjoy the rest of the party.
Soon the plan was in effect and we started playing again, but a couple songs later someone in the crowd shouted, "he's coming back!" and we immediately broke into Okie From Muskogee at acoustic guitar volume. They got him back to his room and the party was on again, with the company president volunteering to watch the hall outside the ballroom. Then Harry came back, and Okie From Muskogee again, which we rinsed and repeated for probably about a full set, before Harry finally went down for the count.
Harry was actually known for some pretty impressive acts of philanthropy; Look him up. He also fought in the Battle of The Bulge in WWII, ran and chaired the board of directors of United Technologies, and in 1989, came out of retirement to take over as Chairman of the Board for American Medical. He died in 2009.
But that night, Harry was everybody's favorite drunken raging *sshole. We've all got our defects, and that night was apparently his turn to show-and-tell his.
As a footnote, Dennis and I enjoyed retelling the Harry Gray story as recently as year ago in the hospital where he knew he wouldn't get to leave, and where he passed a year ago this past week. That night, Dennis' Dallas Cowboys ended a losing streak and started winning games.
Maybe Dennis and Harry finally got a chance to have a good laugh over the story.
We played a hotel corporate party in the early 90's when this Chairman of The Board named Harry Gray, who'd started drinking Vodka around 2:00 in the afternoon by some accounts, came out on the dance floor directly in front of the mains and started trying to force his executives into one-sided, drunken conversations.
To tactfully escape this kind of nonsense, we watched his executives, one-by-one, making the universal hand signal for "I can't hear you", and then dancing away with their wives.
So Harry barged his way up on the stage, grabbed a mic and demanded we stop and listen to him. "Turn it down half, HALF" he told us, and we obliged.
After still getting the "I can't hear you" signal from his executives (those clever bastards), Harry stormed up again and pitched a drunken, blue-blazing fit. Our front-man, Dennis, tried to calm him down, telling him "There's really no 'lower' volume we can turn down to", which was true - Our drummer was already playing with brushes and the party guests were having a hard time hearing a beat they could dance to.
Well, that REALLY wasn't what Harry wanted to hear. In fact, it pretty much lit a bottle rocket up his *ss, and everyone there then got to hear him explode in front of a live mic. "Do you know who I am? I'm friends with G-damned Al Haig, G-damnit, and I can have you killed for talking to me like that!"
Now earlier in the evening, Harry had given Dennis his business card, which Dennis now pulled out of his top pocket and said, still in front of a live mic, "I'll tell you who I think you are. You're NOTHING to me, you understand? NOTHING." and then ripped the card up in Harry's face and walked off stage.
You could've heard a pin drop in that ballroom.
I grabbed a mic and practically whispered, "uh, the band is going to take a short break, uh thanks." and joined everyone else in quick retreat.
As we sat backstage in the kitchen staff lounge contemplating getting paid for a very short first set, the president of the company came back and reassured us. He said they were going to try and get Harry to go up to his hotel room to get some rest so they could all enjoy the rest of the party.
Soon the plan was in effect and we started playing again, but a couple songs later someone in the crowd shouted, "he's coming back!" and we immediately broke into Okie From Muskogee at acoustic guitar volume. They got him back to his room and the party was on again, with the company president volunteering to watch the hall outside the ballroom. Then Harry came back, and Okie From Muskogee again, which we rinsed and repeated for probably about a full set, before Harry finally went down for the count.
Harry was actually known for some pretty impressive acts of philanthropy; Look him up. He also fought in the Battle of The Bulge in WWII, ran and chaired the board of directors of United Technologies, and in 1989, came out of retirement to take over as Chairman of the Board for American Medical. He died in 2009.
But that night, Harry was everybody's favorite drunken raging *sshole. We've all got our defects, and that night was apparently his turn to show-and-tell his.
As a footnote, Dennis and I enjoyed retelling the Harry Gray story as recently as year ago in the hospital where he knew he wouldn't get to leave, and where he passed a year ago this past week. That night, Dennis' Dallas Cowboys ended a losing streak and started winning games.
Maybe Dennis and Harry finally got a chance to have a good laugh over the story.
Last edited:
- Dec 21, 2007
- 15,222
- 45,001
- Disclosures
- Lark in the Morning Instructional Videos; Audix Microphones
I'll add one - not about the obnoxious behavior of drunks but about "drunken kindness" and fratkids not knowing their limitations.
Playing at a UCLA frat party in the late 1980's. Very good pay. BL wisely put up a rope in front of the "stage" to give us some space and prevent the lads from falling into the band.
We take a break, and I pass two kids. One is on his knees puking into the BBQ pit. His friend is there, close at hand, helpful and supportive.
And I hear the friend say "It's all right, man, you're gonna be OK... I'll get you a clean beer."
Playing at a UCLA frat party in the late 1980's. Very good pay. BL wisely put up a rope in front of the "stage" to give us some space and prevent the lads from falling into the band.
We take a break, and I pass two kids. One is on his knees puking into the BBQ pit. His friend is there, close at hand, helpful and supportive.
And I hear the friend say "It's all right, man, you're gonna be OK... I'll get you a clean beer."
I've told this story before...
In the early '80s, I was playing a wedding (tuxedo, etc.), and a drunk "black sheep of the family" uncle stormed the bandstand, seized a microphone, and instructed us to play Chuck Berry's "My Ding-a-Ling." We did, and he proceeded to belt it out: "I wanna play with MY ding-a-ling!!!" We were mortified, and we could see appalled expressions on people's faces, all around. Within about 20 seconds, the frenzied bride ran up and ushered the guy away.
In the early '80s, I was playing a wedding (tuxedo, etc.), and a drunk "black sheep of the family" uncle stormed the bandstand, seized a microphone, and instructed us to play Chuck Berry's "My Ding-a-Ling." We did, and he proceeded to belt it out: "I wanna play with MY ding-a-ling!!!" We were mortified, and we could see appalled expressions on people's faces, all around. Within about 20 seconds, the frenzied bride ran up and ushered the guy away.
