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My first regular gig was a local VFW. It served alcohol, but was located in a dry territory. So the opportunity was always there to get raided. We got paid $150 plus the door at $5 a head. 20 folks there? We took home $350. 200 there? $350. I guess it balanced out. Plus one of the bartenders and another person would go to the kitchen right next to the stage and they would come out putting money in their pockets or something else and with runny noses. One night, a friend knocked a guy unconcious for insulting his wife. Another night, a guy walked around to the other side of the pool table and cold-cocked a guy, then picked up his beer and went back to listening to us. Funniest thing about that place was the mens room had these "Hanoi Jane" Urinal Stickers in the trough. That building is actually a headstart school now.
I only have about three pictures from playing there. This was before cell phone cameras, and regular cameras weren't allowed in there. A lot of guys would take their "extracurricular activities" there on Saturday night, no one wanted photo proof. We were leaving one night and a guy had brought his side chick to the show, and parked his car in between the building and a hill, thinking his wife wouldn't find it. She did. She cut all four tires, broke all the windows and the headlights, tail lights and then cut the seats. I also heard she went the other girls trailer and busted the windows there too.
One local place that I never played had a rep for a long time. One of those places where they check you at the door for weapons, and if you dont have one they give you one. A friend who played there told me there was a large stain on one of the walls. It allegedly was a blood stain from where a murder occurred when one person shot and killed another. They tried painting over it but it kept coming through.
I went to a place one time to book a gig and talked to a guy named "Frog". We didnt work anything out but he seemed like a nice guy. A year or so later, I was driving past the place and a scrawny dude came falling out of the front entrance, and this big guy was pummelling his face. On the news the next day I heard about the bouncer had been charged with murder for beating the guy to death. Glad I never played there.
BnB
I only have about three pictures from playing there. This was before cell phone cameras, and regular cameras weren't allowed in there. A lot of guys would take their "extracurricular activities" there on Saturday night, no one wanted photo proof. We were leaving one night and a guy had brought his side chick to the show, and parked his car in between the building and a hill, thinking his wife wouldn't find it. She did. She cut all four tires, broke all the windows and the headlights, tail lights and then cut the seats. I also heard she went the other girls trailer and busted the windows there too.
One local place that I never played had a rep for a long time. One of those places where they check you at the door for weapons, and if you dont have one they give you one. A friend who played there told me there was a large stain on one of the walls. It allegedly was a blood stain from where a murder occurred when one person shot and killed another. They tried painting over it but it kept coming through.
I went to a place one time to book a gig and talked to a guy named "Frog". We didnt work anything out but he seemed like a nice guy. A year or so later, I was driving past the place and a scrawny dude came falling out of the front entrance, and this big guy was pummelling his face. On the news the next day I heard about the bouncer had been charged with murder for beating the guy to death. Glad I never played there.
BnB
a friend of mine used to play a women's prison gig in WV each year. He said the women would be making suggestions that if you would put them in one of the road cases and smuggle them out it would be worth your while. The got stopped at the gate one time and the guard said they had to unload the truck to check for stow-aways. My buddy opened up the back of the truck, and all of the gear was just tossed in there in piles (to make getting the H out of there easier!) and the guard just said "looks good to me". He said it was a fun gig though.
I think it was the same prison that Martha Stewart did her tax evasion time in.
BnB
No respect I tell ya. You get no respect.
Oh yeah, and it was so rough, the fingerbowls actually had three fingers in them!
LMAO, oh man, I walked in and walked right out! Didn’t even load in. That place was worse than Baghdad!
Sport Chalet in Aransas Pass Texas. It’s in south Texas. We played there twice during the oil boom a few years ago. Rough crowd overall and I felt like I needed to go on the patch after each gig due to smoke inhalation. My drums would smell like cigarette smoke for weeks, after a gig there.
Our first gig there was my first gig with that band. After our last song, we were tearing down and I had my back to the dance floor. All of a sudden I felt myself being thrown into my drums. A fight had broken out and made its way onto the stage.
Classy joint...LOL...but I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything.
Our first gig there was my first gig with that band. After our last song, we were tearing down and I had my back to the dance floor. All of a sudden I felt myself being thrown into my drums. A fight had broken out and made its way onto the stage.
Classy joint...LOL...but I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything.
Well, I played one in Brighton called Leon's Place . WHO doesn't like Pinball Wizard ? Once I was taking a breather at the bar with our drummer and there was one stool between us. The lights were low and we wanted to play music . I thought there was something moving on top of the bar. A large Brighton Roach had come to cheer us on to greater success. I
went back to snap a photo years later and it was just a pile of rubble . Near the bridge over Valley Creek I sang The Last Time and we did it good.
Holy s#*t it was some run down hick bar we were a country and southern/classic rock and blues cover band (had stuff for all kinds). This place was BFE north central MO had to go onto a gravel road for a bit to get there. Looked like a ran down old mom and pop country store that has been around since the 1800's. We get there and were are like oh poopie is that dueling banjos. Walk in, its some dude and his dog in a dive of a bar we are thinking boy oh boy an't no one coming in here. Hell by 10 the place was packed and was one of the best shows we ever played in that band had a blast. Goes to show don't judge a book by it's cover. A year later though we tried to book again it had burned down bad wiring
I played in a metal band for years, so not many of the places we played were much above tolerable, but there are two places that come to mind.
One was in New York, and to be honest I don't remember exactly where it was (we drank a lot back then, you see). We crossed the then-Tappan Zee bridge heading east and took a left, so it it's up there somewhere. The place itself wasn't all that bad, but it was an old building and generally run down. It was still daylight when we got there, making it that much easier to appreciate the building and its surroundings, such as what appeared to be a junkyard right across the tiny parking lot. We went and set our stuff up and then parked ourselves at the bar for a little while. I do remember everyone there was very friendly and welcoming, which we appreciated. Some of the venues we ended up in had the stereotypical "eff you and I hate everything" vibe, but not this place.
At any rate, it's showtime. We take the stage, and, since it is now dark, paradoxically I can see something now that I could not see when we were setting up. Light was coming up out of a hole in the stage. Having watched a ton of horror movies and it never having sunk in to NOT go look in the hole, I walk over and can see the floor of the basement a good 14-15 feet below. It was lit by a single light bulb and looked like where people would end up after having been kidnapped by a drug cartel or a cult of some kind. The stage floor consisted of old planks, one of which had given up trying to support all the metal bands, apparently, and the end had broken off leaving a gap about a foot square. This did not fill me with confidence. But, we collectively managed to avoid plummeting into the void and made it home in one piece, albeit a hungover piece. Not only was that bunch friendly, they could drink.
The second, and, for me, the prizewinner for horrible bathroom memories, was a place in Philly. It was what appeared to be a converted rowhouse; two units right next to one another. The one side was actually pretty nice as metal clubs go, with a long, well-maintained wooden bar that ran almost the length of the room, and a stage that was probably about 15' x 20. Plenty of room, for once.
However, the finishing budget did not extend to the neighboring unit, which had a couple pool tables and what could be charitably described as a restroom. One old urinal, a broken sink, wet floor (which we couldn't decide if it was pee or just leaky pipes; it didn't stink too badly, so I voted leaky pipes), and a stall containing one toilet. Not much to see, really, and we all had to go shortly after arrival at the club, so we thought we had all seen what seemingly minor grossness the restroom had to offer. About an hour later the guitar player come bolting out of the bathroom, laughing and disgusted at the same time: "Dude, you have to see this!". Again, I ignore my instincts and wander into the restroom behind him. He dramatically flings open the stall door, and there, in the dry, non-functioning toilet is a trucker hat with a giant piece of human poop on top of it. I took off out of there with much haste, but not before that image burned into my brain, and worse, that smell hit my nose. For a few minutes I was actually angry at the guy: "Why the #$%& would you drag me in here to see that, man?" But a couple beers later it went from disgusting to comical.
There were plenty of shady joints in those days, but those two were the first to come up in the memory banks when I read this thread title.
One was in New York, and to be honest I don't remember exactly where it was (we drank a lot back then, you see). We crossed the then-Tappan Zee bridge heading east and took a left, so it it's up there somewhere. The place itself wasn't all that bad, but it was an old building and generally run down. It was still daylight when we got there, making it that much easier to appreciate the building and its surroundings, such as what appeared to be a junkyard right across the tiny parking lot. We went and set our stuff up and then parked ourselves at the bar for a little while. I do remember everyone there was very friendly and welcoming, which we appreciated. Some of the venues we ended up in had the stereotypical "eff you and I hate everything" vibe, but not this place.
At any rate, it's showtime. We take the stage, and, since it is now dark, paradoxically I can see something now that I could not see when we were setting up. Light was coming up out of a hole in the stage. Having watched a ton of horror movies and it never having sunk in to NOT go look in the hole, I walk over and can see the floor of the basement a good 14-15 feet below. It was lit by a single light bulb and looked like where people would end up after having been kidnapped by a drug cartel or a cult of some kind. The stage floor consisted of old planks, one of which had given up trying to support all the metal bands, apparently, and the end had broken off leaving a gap about a foot square. This did not fill me with confidence. But, we collectively managed to avoid plummeting into the void and made it home in one piece, albeit a hungover piece. Not only was that bunch friendly, they could drink.
The second, and, for me, the prizewinner for horrible bathroom memories, was a place in Philly. It was what appeared to be a converted rowhouse; two units right next to one another. The one side was actually pretty nice as metal clubs go, with a long, well-maintained wooden bar that ran almost the length of the room, and a stage that was probably about 15' x 20. Plenty of room, for once.
However, the finishing budget did not extend to the neighboring unit, which had a couple pool tables and what could be charitably described as a restroom. One old urinal, a broken sink, wet floor (which we couldn't decide if it was pee or just leaky pipes; it didn't stink too badly, so I voted leaky pipes), and a stall containing one toilet. Not much to see, really, and we all had to go shortly after arrival at the club, so we thought we had all seen what seemingly minor grossness the restroom had to offer. About an hour later the guitar player come bolting out of the bathroom, laughing and disgusted at the same time: "Dude, you have to see this!". Again, I ignore my instincts and wander into the restroom behind him. He dramatically flings open the stall door, and there, in the dry, non-functioning toilet is a trucker hat with a giant piece of human poop on top of it. I took off out of there with much haste, but not before that image burned into my brain, and worse, that smell hit my nose. For a few minutes I was actually angry at the guy: "Why the #$%& would you drag me in here to see that, man?" But a couple beers later it went from disgusting to comical.
There were plenty of shady joints in those days, but those two were the first to come up in the memory banks when I read this thread title.
Several years ago the band I'm in played a place called the Days End Inn, in Oxford, MA. We never played in a place so small! The "stage" area was no bigger than an average house room. We put our drummer in one corner of the space, Our keyboard player was next to me, and I was in front of our drummer. Our amps and mics were also crammed in there as well. Our singer and two guitarists were on the dance floor right in front of us. As we played I could not hear my bass amp because the drums and keyboards were too loud, and they couldn't hear themselves because my bass amp was too loud! The three of us were crammed into this back space creating a wash of sound! On top of that in the upstairs room they were playing extremely loud dance music, further washing out the sound! After the gig we swore we'd never play the Days End In again!
Not a dive bar, but a dive all the same. Got hired to play a "house party" in a seedy part of town. Seemed ok at first glance and during setup, but I noticed the bouncers were ever-present and had gun bulges under their coats. Ok... well a gig's a gig right? Once I'm playing, I've got a chance to really scope out the scene. I noticed a lot of older men just hanging around having drinks, and by contrast there were a large number of pretty good-looking women, who seemed to be floating around and flirting quite a bit. Then I notice that some of the women keep taking men by the hand and leading them up a stairway at the back of the room. Then I notice that these two particular women had done the stairs thing with several different men. Then it hit me. Finished the gig, collected our pay, and got the **** outta there.
I drive by twice a day and still not sure what it is nowadays.
Not a dive but still of keynote significance: The Jewish Mother on Pacific. Weirdest stage I've ever seen...you had to stand side-by-side like a jailhouse line-up. I swear the kitchen vented directly onto the stage. Used to hunker-down (...with bass) behind a bass bin at the far wall. Waitress used to take my dinner order mid-song / mid-set and place it (...complete with place setting) on top of the enclosure.
Runner-up: On The Rocks / Oceana & General Booth Blvd's. Later become Boneshakers and is now a Dunkin' Donuts. Joint used to be a 7-11. One restroom...oh joy! Used to wander off in the woods behind the dumpsters to take a leak.
Riis
without a doubt the natural fudge cafe in los angeles.
Natural Fudge Cafe Former Location In Los Angeles
it was a great place if you loved -
warm soda and warm beer sold without a beer and wine license
cockroaches and odd smells
occasional people shooting heroin in the restrooms
if you could call those filthy, tiny smelly rooms restrooms
small room with broken chairs and mosh pit to play in
no paint, no stage lights, torn carpet with frightening stains and some nails poking up
no actual bar, no seating area
we weren't actually asked to sell tickets, although we were offered some when i asked. turned out they thought we were a different band that had a huge draw. they did get occasional bigger punk and alt bands there.
Natural Fudge Cafe Former Location In Los Angeles
it was a great place if you loved -
warm soda and warm beer sold without a beer and wine license
cockroaches and odd smells
occasional people shooting heroin in the restrooms
if you could call those filthy, tiny smelly rooms restrooms
small room with broken chairs and mosh pit to play in
no paint, no stage lights, torn carpet with frightening stains and some nails poking up
no actual bar, no seating area
we weren't actually asked to sell tickets, although we were offered some when i asked. turned out they thought we were a different band that had a huge draw. they did get occasional bigger punk and alt bands there.
The name sounds like the kind of place you'd get served a $9 coffee with bonus chia seeds, rather than a grotty dive. They must have had the occasional straights show up and get scared away.
it looked like a serious dive outside, and walking into the door would have scared away the few who weren't paying attention. also it was in a punk rock and getting mugged while walking to your car neighborhood
I played in a dump pit called the Crazy Horse once in Chicago back in the early 90’s. It was a roach infested biker pool hall. At the end of our set, the drop ceiling over the stage collapsed on the band.
