Ever been afraid for your life at a gig?

[Charlzm]

I played some fantastic gigs way back when I played full time. But we spent one week playing at a particular bar that I was ever so glad to leave. It was back in '79 in Detroit at a biker bar somewhere around 6 Mile and Gratiot. We played biker bars before and always got along with them. But the gang in this bar was bad news. You could feel it in the air.

On the 4th of 5 nights in between songs one of the bikers said something pretty derogatory to us and our singer immediately had a comeback. (Uh-oh.) I'll never forget this biker as he strutted up to the stage with a cue stick on his shoulder. Pointed it right in our singers face and said "one more word out of you and you're a m***** f****** ghost." Thank God that our singer kept his mouth shut.

On our last night there they shot some guy outside the bar. We never player there again.

I was in a rock cover band in the mid 80's that got booked to play a pretty rural dive bar in Alabama. The owner wanted to bring in rock bands but the clientele didn't get that memo and we didn't know it coming in. A drunk guy walked right up on the stage in front of me between songs and got on the mic and said to the audience, "Do you want to hear some Bocephus?" Luckily, it was really quiet after that.
I asked the guy politely if he would mind going back to his seat so we could play some more songs and after a very long moment of eye contact he sort of staggered away. It probably helped that I was 6'3", 21 years old and about 220lbs of mostly-not-fat at the time.
We never played there again.

 

[selowitch]

Some gigs have made me fear survival more than death.

 

[Raman]

I played some fantastic gigs way back when I played full time. But we spent one week playing at a particular bar that I was ever so glad to leave. It was back in '79 in Detroit at a biker bar somewhere around 6 Mile and Gratiot. We played biker bars before and always got along with them. But the gang in this bar was bad news. You could feel it in the air.

On the 4th of 5 nights in between songs one of the bikers said something pretty derogatory to us and our singer immediately had a comeback. (Uh-oh.) I'll never forget this biker as he strutted up to the stage with a cue stick on his shoulder. Pointed it right in our singers face and said "one more word out of you and you're a m***** f****** ghost." Thank God that our singer kept his mouth shut.

On our last night there they shot some guy outside the bar. We never player there again.

At one point I was in a band with a guy, good at heart but who came from a pretty tough milieu: drugs, bikers, violence, etc. He was a great guitarist and singer, and we got along well together, but I stayed well away from his personal life as much as I could.
His then girlfriend was a 250-300lbs stripper who worked in the shadiest strip joints in town. So he came up with the idea that we should play at her workplace to accompany the strip routines...
Reading your account, I'm glad I left that band around that time.

 

[Ross W. Lovell]

I played some fantastic gigs way back when I played full time. But we spent one week playing at a particular bar that I was ever so glad to leave. It was back in '79 in Detroit at a biker bar somewhere around 6 Mile and Gratiot. We played biker bars before and always got along with them. But the gang in this bar was bad news. You could feel it in the air.

On the 4th of 5 nights in between songs one of the bikers said something pretty derogatory to us and our singer immediately had a comeback. (Uh-oh.) I'll never forget this biker as he strutted up to the stage with a cue stick on his shoulder. Pointed it right in our singers face and said "one more word out of you and you're a m***** f****** ghost." Thank God that our singer kept his mouth shut.

On our last night there they shot some guy outside the bar. We never player there again.

My younger days found me underage and playing in strip clubs.

The keyboard player watched over me to make sure there were no "extracurricular tutoring".

Played over30 years with that guy, always kept me out of trouble, not easy, I have. Mouth and a real sarcastic side.

We played some places that made the C&W bar in the Blues Brother's movie, look like a yuppie fern bar. I will say while I had some worries, none of the badness surrounding us was ever directed at us, so for that, I'm grateful.

One place had a bathroom that looked like a shooting gallery. 5 stalls, all licked, 3 people passed out hands and feet visible on the floor.

Not sure if this is where I end by saying "Good Times"?

 

[Ross W. Lovell]

Never felt afraid for my life. Pretty stupid on my part, in retrospect...

Most of us were more "immortal" when we were younger.

 

[JW56789]

Let's See from The Days of Playing Those Places Mama Warned Me About:

1) Contract killing at the front door (obviously done by a real pro, NO stray rounds, three holes in the sternum a coffee cup would cover, no witnesses. . . . well, one only . . . . )

2) Played a place (the midnight to 6AM shift) with floor-to-ceiling chain link fence around three sides with a rear-only entrance steel door (' . . . .well, we used to have chicken-wire, but it don't hold up!). All you could see thru the dark were the beer clocks on the back bar. They'd fight and bounce off the fencing like pro wrestlers.

3) Played a place with a pit bull for a bouncer, '. . . .yeah, I only drag Billy Jack (!) in here for the big 'uns . . .'

4) Once played with a guitar player who was also a martial arts instructor. He used to have one-night stands by the bushel, and yes, one of them turned out to be a psycho who wouldn't go away. Stalker, really. He just dealt with it until she made a fairly substantial threat against his mother, one that any reasonable person would have taken more than seriously. She followed the two of us out of the gig down the sidewalk and she starts up with that, and faster than I could see it, he one-punched her right on the chin. I look up, she's a limp ragdoll, out cold. He gently sits her down against a telephone pole, and we walk away. I was FREAKED out, but I understood it. Evidently, she did too, he never saw or heard from her again. Years later, I saw 'Fatal Attraction', and that was her in spades.

But Wait, There's More. For another time . . . . .

 

[cnltb]

Ever been afraid for your life at a gig?
No.

 

[easyj]

No. That would be an awful gig.

 

[oldrocker]

...
The scary part was that these two chicks that worked as hair dressers 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 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

Haha, nothing scarier than 2 hairdressers.

 

[BioDriver]

Only once, in East St. Louis. I don’t think we’ve ever torn down and loaded up that quickly ever again.

 

[Nick von Nick]

I've never feared for my life at a gig, but I went to an audition where the other musicians and I sounded phenomenal. Like, we clicked! It was crazy, too, because it was somewhere slightly off the beaten path along a winding hill road in a small town that I rarely get to visit. I thought that this must've been some undiscovered font of talent.

During the customary "getting to know you" part, I looked around the drummer's living room, and on spying something, my face instantly drained of all color. I noticed several "SS" logos on the drummer's TV. They were inconspicuous, and if I didn't recognize the symbol, they would have been lost in the sea of metal band and Star Wars stickers. Sadly, he confirmed my fears. Soon enough, epithets flew left and right. He simply had a look that "looked through you," and I wasn't the only one who caught it.

Naturally, I played dumb, and I soon found a way to quickly exit and never return. I have never driven so recklessly along an otherwise nasty road in my life.
~Nick von Nick

 

[edro]

I was in a rock cover band in the mid 80's that got booked to play a pretty rural dive bar in Alabama. The owner wanted to bring in rock bands but the clientele didn't get that memo and we didn't know it coming in. A drunk guy walked right up on the stage in front of me between songs and got on the mic and said to the audience, "Do you want to hear some Bocephus?" Luckily, it was really quiet after that.
I asked the guy politely if he would mind going back to his seat so we could play some more songs and after a very long moment of eye contact he sort of staggered away. It probably helped that I was 6'3", 21 years old and about 220lbs of mostly-not-fat at the time.
We never played there again.

I may have played that place at one time in the old days of 'if they pay what we ask, we'll play...."
One place in kinda central AL, I threatened our booker with bodily harm if he booked us there again for any amount of money... Proverbial rectangular concrete block club beside a highway... Ok folks were there but dayum... I expected a fight over Dusty Rhodes or The Wrestling Pro being the best wrestler in the world any second...

 

[obimark]

I played some fantastic gigs way back when I played full time. But we spent one week playing at a particular bar that I was ever so glad to leave. It was back in '79 in Detroit at a biker bar somewhere around 6 Mile and Gratiot. We played biker bars before and always got along with them. But the gang in this bar was bad news. You could feel it in the air.

On the 4th of 5 nights in between songs one of the bikers said something pretty derogatory to us and our singer immediately had a comeback. (Uh-oh.) I'll never forget this biker as he strutted up to the stage with a cue stick on his shoulder. Pointed it right in our singers face and said "one more word out of you and you're a m***** f****** ghost." Thank God that our singer kept his mouth shut.

On our last night there they shot some guy outside the bar. We never player there again.

See that is complete BS. This is why I NEVER play biker bars anymore. Yes I know some of them are the coolest, nicest people around, but MANY of them are walking douchebags (and cheap as hell too).

 

[Flog]

Had a gig one Saturday night in Austin at Steamboat (ahh those were the days) During soundcheck I was sitting on the drum riser changing my strings with my bass plugged in and amp on. GGGRRBBBZZZZTYTTTT. The loudest noise ever came out of my amp and the FOH. I looked down in horror to see one of my strings on fire! There was an outlet with no cover below me and one of my strings had found it's way in. I was frazzled the rest of the night and felt lucky to be alive.

 

[japhy4529]

Yep. Walked around a corner at a bar in between sets to get immediately thrown up against a wall, my feet 6 in off the ground (I'm 6', he was 6'7"?) And a hand around my throat. I played lead guitar and sang at the time (before I found god) and apparently he thought I was making eye contact with his GF, but she was the one who was clearly interested. I had never seen her.

So was that about the moment when you found religion?! Sorry had to... No offense intended.

 

[Charlzm]

I may have played that place at one time in the old days of 'if they pay what we ask, we'll play...."
One place in kinda central AL, I threatened our booker with bodily harm if he booked us there again for any amount of money... Proverbial rectangular concrete block club beside a highway... Ok folks were there but dayum... I expected a fight over Dusty Rhodes or The Wrestling Pro being the best wrestler in the world any second...

It probably wasn't the same physical place (this was somewhere around Foley or Seminole in southern Alabama, between Pensacola and Fairhope), but it was the same place.

 

[MynameisMe]

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.

I live in Jville. Must have been on the Westside.

 

[Jon McBass]

I played some fantastic gigs way back when I played full time. But we spent one week playing at a particular bar that I was ever so glad to leave. It was back in '79 in Detroit at a biker bar somewhere around 6 Mile and Gratiot. We played biker bars before and always got along with them. But the gang in this bar was bad news. You could feel it in the air.

On the 4th of 5 nights in between songs one of the bikers said something pretty derogatory to us and our singer immediately had a comeback. (Uh-oh.) I'll never forget this biker as he strutted up to the stage with a cue stick on his shoulder. Pointed it right in our singers face and said "one more word out of you and you're a m***** f****** ghost." Thank God that our singer kept his mouth shut.

On our last night there they shot some guy outside the bar. We never player there again.

A number of fond memories come to mind where I felt concerned for safety but fortunately none where anyone got killed. I’ve always been pretty good at diplomacy.

Was in a country band back in the early ‘80s in Western MA and played some choice dives where fights were so much a regular part of the scene it was almost comical. Almost. Sometimes too close for comfort but the band itself was never attacked. Also played some biker gang fests but they always treated the band well. But you knew not to rock the boat.

Funniest recollection was in a pretty popular blues band playing some dive in maybe Southern VT full of mean, hammered low-lifes who just seemed to be looking for trouble. The BL/lead singer was really funny and was making jokes here and there all night. One big patron had been glaring and finally stood up between songs and yelled and started staggering toward the stage with purpose. He put his hand on a table to steady himself and the table toppled over and he ended up in a mess of spilled glasses and bottles on the dance floor. Like a flipped-over turtle with his arms and legs waving around trying to get upright.

Without missing a beat, the BL announced over the PA, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner in the Baryshnikov dance contest!” I doubt the idiot knew who Baryshnikov was but it fired him up. About 4 guys held him back and calmed him down. I felt fortunate to load out of there without incident. Good times.

 

[OogieWaWa]

We do biker bars and other nefarious and sketchy clubs in the area, but generally things are pretty good. Maybe a couple of fights now and then, but that's about it. As long as you're not obnoxious to someone they're pretty cool about the bands being irrelevant to their issues.

On the other hand, the number of boob flashes to fights ratio is better than at the 'nice' places, which still end up having their share of trouble.

 

[voodoobassist]

A fellow bassist in OKC was shot and killed onstage when some drunk idiot that had been thrown out of the bar retrieved his rifle from his vehicle and started sending rounds into the club from the parking lot.

A bar in Weatherford Texas I was playing had a molotov cocktail thrown at the entry door while I was playing there. Fortunately it bounced off the door, rolled down the sidewalk a bit and exploded under someones car.

Another bar we were playing in OKC, we've finished the night, are loading out gear, when one of the bouncers starts firing shots in the direction of the stage, screaming, hurry up and get your asses out of here!

My first bar gig, we were to meet there during the day for rehearsal, I show up , only myself, a waitress , and table of 4 or 5 drunk rednecks in the place. I can hear one of them telling the others , I'm gonna to beat the feces out of that long haired { rhymes with maggot} I'd been dropped off at the bar, so had no car. I went outside and started to duck around back when the rest of the band showed up. Got in the car as the rednecks came out and told them to haul butt. Found out the next day they came back in and literally destroyed the bar, including beating the hell out of the waitress that was working.

It's a glamorous profession we chose, isn't it?