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Discussion in 'Bass Humor & Gig Stories [BG]' started by Bensboy, Sep 15, 2019.
Title says it all
the threat of not getting paid.
In the last year I've had a sound person knock my bass over twice while setting up. Neither one acknowledged it which really annoyed me.
About eight years ago I was playing a gig in New Haven, CT and a homeless guy punched out one of the front windows during our set. Then as we packed up we heard that somebody had been shot in the club across the street while we were playing. Non-fatal but still... what's wrong with you, Connecticut?
Not particularly scary for me personally, but an audience member had a heart attack, putting a stop to everything as the bambulance was called. (I'm told she survived.)
I once played a club gig and, as I was walking to the stage, I noticed that Chris Squire was in the house.
...forgetting changes, amongst other things.
Sub gig in Bristol couple years back,guitar/singer jumps off stage and whacks a guy over the head with his guitar then all these dudes start pulling guns,friggin freaked me out!took my gear and got the hell out!
Amp died 1st song in. Luckily had small pa and a DI and was able to finish out the night.
Wasn’t as scary as it was being a close call. Gigged at the US Embassy in Kabul the day before it was attacked by the Taliban in 2011.
Cowboys on one side of the room,
And bikers on the other....
Every table and chair upended during the ensuing melee.
I think the bartender racked a shotgun to get a handle on things.
And then we played our 3rd set.
Double layer of chicken wire I hope!
stage boredom set in
Ever been afraid for your life at a gig?
At a rough dive bar where we play frequently, some strange big guy came right up me and demanded we play a song that he was requesting. I earnestly tried to understand him, but reasons I don't fully have a grasp of, he was completely incomprehensible. After a minute he grew impatient with my failed attempts at deciphering what he was saying. We had to start playing because club owners, as we all know, hate "dead air". As soon as we started the next tune, he slammed my mic stand down to the floor. Fortunately the bar manager was having none of this and told him he had to leave, which he eventually did, but not before returning to the "stage area" and knocking my mic stand over one more time!
Early 1980's. I lived in Denver. I was looking for a gig and answered an ad in the paper from a band that had steady bookings seeking a bassist. I auditioned and got the gig. Two weeks of rehearsals (cover tunes) and we hit the road. Things quickly started to take a turn when I noticed the guitarist (who was also the bandleader) seemed a bit... off. The rest of the guys, however, were cool and the singer (the bandleader's girlfriend) was amazingly talented.
A few weeks later I found myself hanging on for dear life as the bandleader was drunkenly driving our converted school bus (which he owned) through the streets of Scottsbluff, Nebraska at 3am, weaving from curb to curb and shouting "I curse you Jesus!, I curse you Mary!" Oooooooookay. That was the night I decided I was going to have to leave the band, but I was stuck in Nebraska with them.
But the coup de grace happened a week or two later, in Wyoming, when he came out onstage after break wearing a black trenchcoat with a Nazi swastika armband, giving "Heil Hitler" salutes. Some bar-patron guys came up and stood at the side of the stage, ready to pound him into the ground the moment the set ended. He turned to me while we played and said, "You're with me, right? You have my back?" "Hell no!" I shouted back.
I don't recall exactly how we managed to get out of there in one piece, but I do remember talking to the guys at the side of the stage about "obviously there's some mental health issues going on here."
Before long I was on a Greyhound bus on my way home, thanking my lucky stars.
Did you play "Streets of Bakersfield" during that gig?
I used to do drugs. Thought everyone was there to kill me. Years later, still suffer from paranoia.
These days, the scariest thing is being the last to arrive.