Ever been afraid for your life at a gig?

[retslock]

In 1968 I spent 6 months touring bases throughout South Vietnam playing for the armed forces. I was afraid for my life pretty much every day. I could write a book about the stuff that went on over there but that’s a bit extreme - not your normal gig situation.
My wife and I played as a duo in a pub in Sydney frequented by Pacific Islanders. There where Maoris, Tongans and Samoans and they really know how to mix it up. They didn’t like each other and were always brawling. Snooker tables were overturned and cues became weapons. The balls became missiles too. I was amazed at the punishment they could take and stay on their feet. Even older guys got stuck in and gave as much as they got.
This used to happen pretty much every Friday night. My wife would unplug and take her guitar outside into the street to wait until it was over. I never wanted to leave the gear so I always stayed. The interesting thing is that the pub was right across the road from a police station and in all the times we did that gig the cops never showed up once.
Maybe they were just trying to avoid the paperwork

 

[bluesblaster]

Had a Hells Angel throw Ice cubes at me during a song, must not of liked that particular tune I guess. Nothing ever came of it and he stopped after we finished that tune. He out weighed me by about 3x so I just let it go. Wasn't really fearing for my life either , better ice cubes than bullets

 

[Freight Train]

Oh man. I was playing bars and roadhouses in and around Wichita Falls, Texas in the late 60's when I was still in high school! Between drunken oil field workers, rednecks, bikers and airmen from Shepard Airforce Base, I can't think of many gigs where I didn't somewhat fear for at least my safety, if not my life. Luckily we were all big country boys in my trio and with the help of a handy mic stand a few times in the parking lot were able to stand off any real violence. Amazing times! It'll put an edge on your playing.

 

[fretlessbass]

I had; back then I played guitar and had a Boss pedal called “Digital Metalizer”, which to this day is one of the best distortion pedals I ever had.

During a gig, the pedal came handy getting in contact with a drunk idiot’s skull who tried to interact phisically with the band. I thought, back then, that the pedal was a better choice than my Gibson as a way to “make a point”. Once the dust settled, I was pretty relieved afterwards....

.... the pedal kept working just fine. Boss really rocks.

Boss oughta use that testimony in their ads!

 

[TheReceder]

An angry boyfriend once caught me during break... big dude... he made a comment that he was tired of me staring at his girlfriend... I just told him to relax... I wasn't checking out his girl... I was looking at the good looking one.

 

[Pings Bass]

Had a gig cancelled at a bar in Des Moines because somebody got stabbed there the night before. They rescheduled us, and we foolishly took the new date. It didn't turn out to be dangerous, but some loopy local latched on to me and handed me a book of Melville short stories with a picture of a young boy tucked inside. "That's my son. He's dead," she croaked in my ear. She stripped down to lingerie and danced all night, then left a ring in a box at my feet at the end of the night.

Guys, I didn't go home with her, take it easy.

That was the weekend of the Tiananmen Square massacre.

 

[trevcda]

When I was younger, I played in a house band for a biker bar that a local biker gang had adopted as their own. This wasn't a national gang, but it also wasn't a group of lawyers and orthodontist playing dress up; they were the real deal. It was our last night for that run and I was wearing a black t-shirt with white lettering that said, "I may not go down in history, but I'll go down on your little sister." I was very young, very scrawny and very much a smart-ass. Half way through the night, one of Satan's Helpers (names changed for obvious reasons) sees my shirt and yells, "Hey! Those are our club colors!" I think to myself, black and white- that's original, but keep my mouth shut, hoping they'd just let it go. No luck there, they're like cougar on deer. Not even waiting for a break, a group of them are up at the stage if front of me telling me how much Zeke likes my shirt and really wants it. We banter back and forth in what I perceive as a lighthearted conversation. I couldn't have been more wrong.

In the moment of silence, as we're about to start another song, I hear, "I don't think you understand. Zeke wants that shirt." I'm maybe 5'8" and maybe 130lbs at the time. I'm not going to get my a$$ beaten for a novelty t-shirt. I give up the shirt. Zeke, being the "gentleman" that he apparently thinks he is, offers me his black shirt- something with the sleeves sawed off, holes and rips all over and obvious , by the smell, that neither the shirt nor it's owner have been washed in quite sometime. I played the rest of the night shirtless, which wasn't entirely unheard of anyway and I could easily pull off at the time. The funny thing was that Zeke was easily a foot or more taller than I and probably had me by 150 lbs. That shirt did not fit! Not even close. But he paraded around in that shirt the rest of the night, showing it off and pointing up at me on the stage, despite the fact that it rode up his belly and looked like a tank top. Just glad I figured out when to keep my mouth shut.

 

[rd2rk]

Playing a biker bar in San Leandro, CA (The Green Lantern) back in the '80s. We're playing "Gimme 3 Steps" (no lie). My wife (crazy beautiful cajun lady from New Orleans) is playing pool. BIG a$$ biker says something to her and she busts him upside the head with the pool cue. I'm thinking "OH S4#t!". She didn't pay for a drink the whole rest of the night. Downside, we had to play "Freebird" every set.

 

[vegas532]

Many moons ago, I was in a metal cover band that was playing a dive bar in Jacksonville, FL. Th local inbreds were yelling "PLAY GARTH BROOKS!" in between songs, to which I responded (on the mic) "F*** GARTH BROOKS!"

Yeah, lesson learned.

 

[tr4252]

One time in the 60's I was in a band who's "leader" had a stage father (like a stage mother, but worse). 2/5 of the band didn't show up for this particular engagement; I found out later that they knew the father/son a lot better than I did and had already given notice. Naturally, nobody told me this until I arrived at the gig, and I refused to go on. The old man (I think he was an unemployed piemaker or something like that) tried to persuade me with veiled threats, called me "one of them stage fright boys" and other insults, and toward the end of the discussion, took out a knife, gave me a look like he might be thinking violent thoughts, and started to close on me.

I squared off and said just one more thing, calmly; "One step closer and I'm going to seriously hurt you." Having dealt with bullies for the majority of my life (I'm small and generally inoffensive), I am no stranger to street fighting. I expected to have to take him apart, though it didn't surprise me much when he backed down. Still, I'd been ready to let go on him without restraint, which is not a good way to be.

So, I didn't really fear for my physical safety, but all the trouble it would have caused me if I'd made a mess of this creep. Plus, I really hate conflict. Funny how one can remember some incidents after such a long time and with such detail, and yet I frequently forget where I parked my car.

Tom

p.s. I never spoke to either of them again, but in later years accounts of their deaths made me chuckle.

 

[Paulabass]

1) In an altercation with the bar owner, he called the local bikers to clear us out. He was such an idiot he forgot that the bikers LIKE bands. Bikers helped empty his beer fridge into our van. Fear for life level= .05
2) Looney toons dressed as Frankenstein (it wasn't halloween) pulled a gun on us. Swat team had him out of there in moments. Fear for life level= 9.9
3) Some nasty biker wannabes showed up with pool cues, and there was no pool table. They stood around looking menacing. We agreed to tear down fast, and leave all together. They were all hanging out in the parking lot, and we hurried by them in a convoy. Fear for life level= 6

 

[darwin-bass]

As part of a "Christian band from America" I played a small outdoor gig in a park in England. Right next to an apartment complex that was apparently largely Muslim. We had no idea. The town mayor (whom we had met the day before) took the precaution of sending two armed officers for security during our show. As I understand LEOs in England are not routinely armed.

It was the evening of Sept 11, 2001 and the towers had come down hours earlier.

Of course there were no issues. I had no idea of the mayor's concern until after we tore down.

 

[CB3000]

Yes! We were playing outside for a block party and a house exploded like 3 blocks away. Debris flew 100 feet up in the air and there was a massive shockwave.

 

[57pbass]

In the early 80’s we had some band related trouble with a well known biker gang. It was real and very unpleasant.
We made a decision at that time to never play at a biker bar or event.

 

[SteveBassJr]

Once i played a gig and some guy had a problem with the fact my Bass cab said "Pro" or somthing like that on the cab.
I found it funny untill he was giving me the "I wanna fight you" look.
I was ready to crack him with my Bass...

 

[bobomatic]

I've played the Chance a few of times. I was pretty psyched the first time, I had seen so many great bands on that stage. The charm wore off pretty quickly, right after we went upstairs to the "green room." I have no desire to ever play there again. The one positive was the sound, it was spot on both times. I've also played Orange County Choppers, one of the best staged I've been on. I'd play there again in a heartbeat. Played Mahoney's a few times, that's a great venue and a better crowd. I've played a few venues in the vicinity of the Chance, it's a scary part of town after dark. There was one club, had a large outdoor bar area where the band set up. I forgot the name of the place, but we'd play to packed houses. Took me an entire break to make it to the restroom and back one night, they definitely violated the fire code. As we were loading out I watched a bunch of drunk college girls, dressed to kill, stumble out of the place and down one of the dark streets. They were way braver than I would have been. One band member was a cop and I'm pretty sure he was always armed. It's the only thing that made me feel safe on some of those gigs. The pay was pretty good as well.

Poughkeepsie is no joke. I go there when I have to, and that’s the only time. That said... I still wanna play the Chance..

 

[lat]

Boss oughta use that testimony in their ads!

Was thinking the same thing... just like those old Timex ads!

 

[lat]

When I was younger, I played in a house band for a biker bar that a local biker gang had adopted as their own. This wasn't a national gang, but it also wasn't a group of lawyers and orthodontist playing dress up; they were the real deal. It was our last night for that run and I was wearing a black t-shirt with white lettering that said, "I may not go down in history, but I'll go down on your little sister." I was very young, very scrawny and very much a smart-ass. Half way through the night, one of Satan's Helpers (names changed for obvious reasons) sees my shirt and yells, "Hey! Those are out club colors!" I think to myself, black and white- that's original, but keep my mouth shut, hoping they'd just let it go. No luck there, they're like cougar on deer. Not even waiting for a break, a group of them are up at the stage if front of me telling me how much Zeke likes my shirt and really wants it. We banter back and forth in what I perceive as a lighthearted conversation. I couldn't have been more wrong.

In the moment of silence, as we're about to start another song, I hear, "I don't think you understand. Zeke wants that shirt." I'm maybe 6'8" and maybe 130lbs at the time. I'm not going to get my a$$ beaten for a novelty t-shirt. I give up the shirt. Zeke, being the "gentleman" that he apparently thinks he is, offers me his black shirt- something with the sleeves sawed off, holes and rips all over and obvious , by the smell, that neither the shirt nor it's owner have been washed in quite sometime. I played the rest of the night shirtless, which wasn't entirely unheard of anyway and I could easily pull off at the time. The funny thing was that Zeke was easily a foot or more taller than I and probably had me by 150 lbs. That shirt did not fit! Not even close. But he paraded around in that shirt the rest of the night, showing it off and pointing up at me on the stage, despite the fact that it rode up his belly and looked like a tank top. Just glad I figured out when to keep my mouth shut.

Read that with "Dreadlock Holiday" playing in my head...

 

[Dr_Benway]

Had a guy shoot in the band's general direction back in the early seventies, but the scariest would have been playing Sturgis 50th anniversary bike rally with The Marshall Tucker Band. We pulled up and there were two brutes trying to kill each other with ten foot sections of two inch pipe. And it just got crazy from there. Our sound guy begged for security to get from stage to mix position. He was well over 300 lbs, but he was wearing shorts and kept getting whistled at. Having the music and applause constantly drowned out by a scores of bikes revving in the audience, was a bit disconcerting as well.

 

[DJ Bebop]

I had been playing bass for a month. Could play 3 chord blues in two keys A and G, I was 16. My dad was a jazz piano player, told me he had a gig and wanted me to play bass on it. It was Kingsley Field Air National Guard Air Force Base (as Space Force hadn't been invented yet ).

I had never played in front of people let alone any other songs other than blues in A or G. So, I went anyway, trial by fire. I learned to listen, fast, learned the 3-6-2-5 chord progression there. I was surprised the other musicians put up with me as I knew nothing but they helped me along.

The scary part was that these two chicks that worked as hairdressers on the base thought I was cute and were trying to get me back to the room and do with me whatever (I was a young, inexperienced 16 year old ) and they wanted wanted to ride back to Portland with us.

My dad told them, "Sure you can! We'll be leaving at 9:30 in the morning meet us at the bar all packed and we'll go!"

I was kinda pissed at him.

The next morning at 6:30 he got me up, we gassed up the 63 Cadillac and by 7:00 we were heading back to Portland, alone