+ 1 on funeral gigs being tough. I'm the praise band leader of a small-to-medium sized church, and I was asked by a the mother of the deceased to make the funeral service a contemporary praise service . . . man, that was a tall order. Making things harder were the fact that the mother of the deceased was in her seventies--her son, the deceased, had committed suicide in his early fifties, leaving behind his wife and daughter. To add another layer, the deceased's son had committed suicide ten years before! So this poor woman had lost her son and grandson to suicide in a ten year span. Let me tell you that the contemporary praise repetoire comes up kinda empty-handed when it comes to situations like that. Still, I picked a few favorites and included a requested hymn.
My father-in-law, my guitarist (and the choir director) turned to me before the service started and said, "You ever played a funeral before?" When I shook my head, he said "Trust me on this one . . . do not look at the audience. They will be crying, and then you will be crying, but you can't do that. You have to perform well--for them and for their loved one." Talk about pressure! Despite my strap falling off at the end of a song, and my wireless mic's battery dying mid-service, everything came off well, and the deceased's family was pleased and grateful.
My other story was my first paying gig ever. It was during high school, with my first band, and we were playing the open house of a friend. This friend's dad fancied himself a home recording guy, and he not only hired us, but also Wally Pleasant, a well-known local singer-songwriter. Being Wally fans, we were pretty hyped for the gig . . .
We set up in the backyard, hours in advance. We did a thorough soundcheck and rehearsal, and prounounced everything perfect just as guests started to arrive. We schmoozed for a few, we ate, we drank . . . and then clouds started to roll in. Scratch that. DARK clouds ROLLED in, HARD. In about ten minutes, it went from 'clear' to 'hazy' to 'overcast' to "Get to the storm cellar, Dorothy!" We ran out with duct tape and trash bags, figuring we could wrap up all our gear and it would be fine. The drums (a vintage Rogers kit) were under a canopy, so we figured they would be fine, too. WRONG! A freaking monsoon opened up, absolutely dumping all over everywhere. From inside the house, the band cast nervous glances at each other until we finally realized that we had to go save our gear!
It was bad. The keyboard was knocked off its stand, onto the grass, and LYING AT THE BOTTOM OF A HUGE PUDDLE. That's right, the keyboard was completely submerged! Both my and the guitarists' amps were hit hard, and the drums were just drenched. We ended up hauling our gear into the garage, and spending the time we were supposed to be playing drying our gear out. The guitarist and I actually opened up our amps and had hair dryers out, trying to evaporate all the standing water! In the meantime, Wally showed up and played to the bored crowd. After a long session of toweling off, and Wally's set was over, folks stuck around to hear us play. Over my objections, we set up in the garage and played out to the driveway. Our "stage sound" was a total mess, of course we were feeling shaken and frustrated, and on top of that shamed to have Wally hear us!
It was, without a doubt, our worst moment as a band. It was a terrible set, and a terrible day. We actually never played another gig after that . . .
Peace
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