There we were, in the third set of a lightly attended bar gig. Group of old dudes walks in, all dressed in exactly the same garish red suits. I felt like I should recognize them. I didn't, but I have since come to know that they were
the Delfonics, a Philly-based soul quartet of some repute. They had played a gig in another part of Denver earlier that night.
Our band played a jammy, extended version of Fly Like an Eagle, with a modal jazz tune in the middle. The Delfonics want to sit in. Our singer graciously invites them up. At this point I still don't know who these guys are, but they sure look important and I'm pretty excited to see what they do with Fly Like an Eagle.
They did pretty much nothing. None of them knew the words, and they just coated the music with all this high-pitched crooning on random syllables. For ten minutes. They danced a bit too. We wrap up the tune and thank them.
We go on, and play a couple more tunes, and eventually get to our last song, which was supposed to be this version of Soul Vibration that morphs into Mr. Pink and eventually turns into Hang Up Your Hangups. When it worked it was cool. The Delfonics are still around the club, and when we start playing it, they walk back onto the stage without an invitation.
A Delfonic asks if he can play the keys. Our guy steps aside. They assume their dance positions and, as our "Soul Vibration" really begins to vibrate, they try to turn it into...a ballad.
This keyboardist dude is standing right in front of me. He turns around, looks at the drummer and me, and asks us to pull the tempo down to about 68 beats per minute because they want to "work on a ballad". Sure. We back it off a little and stay there for a while. More of the same crooning, no discernible words, from the Delfonics. "Ooh Baby," "You're the One," and stuff like that is the best we got. Eventually our bandleader cues us to move into the "Hang Up Your Hangups" section of our tune, which is a raunchy Headhunters thing that definitely will screw up a ballad. The Delfonics get mad at us. They all turn around, do that "keep it down" hand gesture, and again tell me that they need to "work on their ballad." At our gig.
We go on for another four or five minutes. These dudes will not get off the stage. The sax player, guitarist, and I wrap the song, put down our instruments, and go get a beer. Our drummer keeps playing. The Delfonics continued their "rehearsal" for another three or four minutes. Then they all stop at once, walk off the stage, chat for a moment with someone in the room, and then they leave.
I'm not sure this tale is as funny in the telling as it was in the living, but the morals of the story are as follows:
- Asking for two sit-ins is a balls out move, especially in the same set. Nobody do that.
- Unless your name is Stevie Wonder, when you sit in with a band, you are playing with them. They don't become your backup band, and you definitely don't get to try out new material with them during their gig.
- Beware of the Delfonics.