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Worst gig stories (megathread?)
- Thread starter Sam Dingle
- Start date
We had a singer who decided that he was going to surprize the owner of a club we had played MANY times before, with a birthday song. So tells the band ."...quick, play happy birthday..." so we launch into it and he gives his schpeel and coaxes the guy on stage and "..lets give Tom a big happy birthday.." audience aplauds and heckles him... "Ok, Suzan? wheres Suzan? everybody, lets get Toms girl friend up here to help sing this birthday song.." suddenly things get a little awkward and quiet in the crowd....Our singer is oblivious to the tension and continues to coax Suzan to the stage (Tom is muttering DUDE! DUDE!). then all hell breaks loose when a table candle flies past Toms face and a fight breaks out between his WIFE and Suzan...[emoji37]
Suzans friends jump in to defend her and now its an all out brawl... chairs are flying, bottles, beer mugs, people are fighting all over the place. Yelling and screaming It spills out into the parking lot for a while and is stopped by a few cop cars showing up and some folks getting hauled off.... This whole scene lasted about 10-15 minutes but it seemed like it was hours...the place was destroyed... broken stuff everywhere.
Yeah we got SO fired...
I remember the broken glass crunching under our feet as we loaded our stuff in total silence.... and shame.
We had no idea the guy was married and Suzan was always on his arm during setup. Hell, one time SHE paid us!! Never once did the guy mention his wife...
Unfortunately, I have many more “worst gig stories” to impart..
Suzans friends jump in to defend her and now its an all out brawl... chairs are flying, bottles, beer mugs, people are fighting all over the place. Yelling and screaming It spills out into the parking lot for a while and is stopped by a few cop cars showing up and some folks getting hauled off.... This whole scene lasted about 10-15 minutes but it seemed like it was hours...the place was destroyed... broken stuff everywhere.
Yeah we got SO fired...
I remember the broken glass crunching under our feet as we loaded our stuff in total silence.... and shame.
We had no idea the guy was married and Suzan was always on his arm during setup. Hell, one time SHE paid us!! Never once did the guy mention his wife...
Unfortunately, I have many more “worst gig stories” to impart..
OK, I have apparently have had more BAD gigs than anyone so, I'll bore everyone with another.
We were playing a "Battle of the Bands" for some radio stations charity event at a place called Mustangs. We were the first band on. These events all unfold in the course of our one set:
1. Bobby our singer was notorious for not learning the words to our songs. He would keep the words to these songs written down on a piece of paper taped to the monitor or stage... ..Danny the bass player was pissed he was doing this again!! He nodded to the drummer and and quickly grabbed the paper and and flung it at the drummer who wadded it up and threw it into the darkness.... Turns out it was not the words to a song, but, the speach the sponsors had given him to read concerning the medical charity..!!!! And he is pissed at the bass player!!
2. Bobby the singer would play various percussion throughout the night. He had a move where once or twice a night he would toss, say, a tamborine in the air and spin around in time to catch it. Usually in beat with a crash or kick. Well this night he tosses a tamborine into a ceiling fan and spins around in time to catch it in the temple... hard... and he screams F***!!! into the mic out of reflex!!! Now he is bleeding like a stuck pig all over his white shirt...
3. The last song was "Honkytonk Blues" This song normally ends with the words
"Oh lord I gottem'... I got those
Hah-awonkytonk
Hah-awonkytonk
Hah-awonkytonk Blues..." with the band playing a tag chord at every "Hah".....
Well, not this time... for some unknown reason we get the very first "Hah-" and our normally tight professional band just stops.....simply inexplicably, just stops.....EVEN THE SINGER..!!! The whole event catches us so off gaurd that we all kinda stand there for a few seconds in the awkward silence looking at each others terrified faces.... We all then try to tag an ending to the song in the most trainwrecked disaster of an ending you have ever heard!!
[emoji37][emoji95][emoji577][emoji90][emoji90][emoji90][emoji95][emoji445]
We were so embarassed we left after we moved our stuff...
We were playing a "Battle of the Bands" for some radio stations charity event at a place called Mustangs. We were the first band on. These events all unfold in the course of our one set:
1. Bobby our singer was notorious for not learning the words to our songs. He would keep the words to these songs written down on a piece of paper taped to the monitor or stage... ..Danny the bass player was pissed he was doing this again!! He nodded to the drummer and and quickly grabbed the paper and and flung it at the drummer who wadded it up and threw it into the darkness.... Turns out it was not the words to a song, but, the speach the sponsors had given him to read concerning the medical charity..!!!! And he is pissed at the bass player!!
2. Bobby the singer would play various percussion throughout the night. He had a move where once or twice a night he would toss, say, a tamborine in the air and spin around in time to catch it. Usually in beat with a crash or kick. Well this night he tosses a tamborine into a ceiling fan and spins around in time to catch it in the temple... hard... and he screams F***!!! into the mic out of reflex!!! Now he is bleeding like a stuck pig all over his white shirt...
3. The last song was "Honkytonk Blues" This song normally ends with the words
"Oh lord I gottem'... I got those
Hah-awonkytonk
Hah-awonkytonk
Hah-awonkytonk Blues..." with the band playing a tag chord at every "Hah".....
Well, not this time... for some unknown reason we get the very first "Hah-" and our normally tight professional band just stops.....simply inexplicably, just stops.....EVEN THE SINGER..!!! The whole event catches us so off gaurd that we all kinda stand there for a few seconds in the awkward silence looking at each others terrified faces.... We all then try to tag an ending to the song in the most trainwrecked disaster of an ending you have ever heard!!
[emoji37][emoji95][emoji577][emoji90][emoji90][emoji90][emoji95][emoji445]
We were so embarassed we left after we moved our stuff...
Why should you feel ashamed? It's not your fault. The one to be silent and ashamed would I think be Tom.
We felt bad whether it was his fault or not at the time... you are right. I remember railings that once surrounded the dance floor were all broken and scattered throughout the wreckage. The place closed mere weeks later and has been re-opened under whatever name ever since 96’ or so.. Tom is not the owner. We loaded our little trailer by the glow of flashing police lights...
Here's my most memorable bad gig. Copied from a different thread about birthday gigs, although it cannot compare to your birthday gig story, @4pickupguy ...
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Lol, the last birthday gig I played was at a farm, and here's what I got:
1. All the really gross cheap beer I wanted (which was none)
2. A drunk guy running up on stage and trying to dance with me while I was playing, which started a trend among the other drunk guys until our frontman talked to the farm owner / birthday guy and had him restrain the horde
3. Having to sit out while the farm owner's son, who swore he was "a really good bassist and of course knew how to play a fretless, even if it's unlined," massacred half a set by playing every single note that wasn't an open string out of tune, finishing by holding my bass between his legs at the end of the last song and sliding his left hand up and down the neck as if he were ... well, you get the picture
4. $40
5. Car stuck in the mud when trying to leave
-----
Lol, the last birthday gig I played was at a farm, and here's what I got:
1. All the really gross cheap beer I wanted (which was none)
2. A drunk guy running up on stage and trying to dance with me while I was playing, which started a trend among the other drunk guys until our frontman talked to the farm owner / birthday guy and had him restrain the horde
3. Having to sit out while the farm owner's son, who swore he was "a really good bassist and of course knew how to play a fretless, even if it's unlined," massacred half a set by playing every single note that wasn't an open string out of tune, finishing by holding my bass between his legs at the end of the last song and sliding his left hand up and down the neck as if he were ... well, you get the picture
4. $40
5. Car stuck in the mud when trying to leave
Ok, you cant get away with this!! We need all the gory details to this particular nights festivities! Come’on now!
We all have had them. Here's two from me.
Back in the '80s I was in a nascent BritFunk band and some of the band would work the social club circuit outside the city. We would do an hour of Quick Steps, Cha-Chas, etc, take 45 and come back for the rest of the evening with contemporary and '60s/'70s standards.
One night, just as we'd finished set-up, I noticed a figure backstage talking animatedly with the club Ents managers. He was carrying full Highland Dress and I smelt a cabaret stunt being pulled on us. We voiced our concerns but were told not to worry as the guy was just going to do a short act on his own with some a cappella stuff.
We did our first set. Then, suddenly and before we could leave the stage, this geezer swanned out from the SL wing with all his regalia on and launched into his act. We stood there, nonplussed, for twenty minutes when he suddenly began to wrap up with a tale about Glasgow. He hit the money shot of his spiel and, turning to us, cried "I Belong to Glasgow', boys! In G!" Agog, I looked at the guitarist and we busked it in 3/4 time. However, the drummer - a punky-funker - was all over the place, as was the schitt Rhodes player. The cacophony was excruciating.
It only lasted a few minutes but felt like a million years. As we sheepishly announced the start of our second set, we could hear 'the Turn' going mental backstage at the Ents guys; he had expected full back-up.
There were heated words with our booking guy that night and I got half-cut after the show to douse the memory of the evening.
2nd will follow later.
Back in the '80s I was in a nascent BritFunk band and some of the band would work the social club circuit outside the city. We would do an hour of Quick Steps, Cha-Chas, etc, take 45 and come back for the rest of the evening with contemporary and '60s/'70s standards.
One night, just as we'd finished set-up, I noticed a figure backstage talking animatedly with the club Ents managers. He was carrying full Highland Dress and I smelt a cabaret stunt being pulled on us. We voiced our concerns but were told not to worry as the guy was just going to do a short act on his own with some a cappella stuff.
We did our first set. Then, suddenly and before we could leave the stage, this geezer swanned out from the SL wing with all his regalia on and launched into his act. We stood there, nonplussed, for twenty minutes when he suddenly began to wrap up with a tale about Glasgow. He hit the money shot of his spiel and, turning to us, cried "I Belong to Glasgow', boys! In G!" Agog, I looked at the guitarist and we busked it in 3/4 time. However, the drummer - a punky-funker - was all over the place, as was the schitt Rhodes player. The cacophony was excruciating.
It only lasted a few minutes but felt like a million years. As we sheepishly announced the start of our second set, we could hear 'the Turn' going mental backstage at the Ents guys; he had expected full back-up.
There were heated words with our booking guy that night and I got half-cut after the show to douse the memory of the evening.
2nd will follow later.
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Number Two Bummer was set about five years later.
Playing bass in an R&B band (Female vox, gtr, bass, drums, 2 x sax) which was the vehicle for the female singer. One night at rehearsals, the (extremely dodgy) guitarist told us he had been approached by a woman at the end of our most recent gig. Woman waxes lyrical about how she liked us and wanted us to play at her forthcoming birthday bash but couldn't afford it. The guitarist - who would do a gig for the exposure only!! - said to her 'No worries, we'll play! If it's cool with you, we'll pass the hat at the end of our set.'
We went nuts when we heard this but the gig had been agreed to. Guitarist's logic was that if every person attending put £1 (300 pax) in we'd make more than our usual rate. Also, around about that same time, guitarist had been making noises about bringing in this other drug-buddy guitarist we all knew and who I had played with for a year or so. We all nixxi'd the idea for the bad one that it was surely to be proven as.
Fast forward to the event. I pulled up with my Trace rig in my estate car, went upstairs to the venue to get assistance and my heart sank when I saw the backline: drug-buddy's amp was sitting on stage right. A huge row broke out about this, not least because drug-buddy hadn't rehearsed our set. We played an average set with drug-buddy just filling in lead breaks. At the end of the final number, the female singer topped off the show as she always did. Final chord/drum strike and we prepared to leave the stage to indifferent applause.
Saxes, singer and myself are exiting stage left when we suddenly hear the 'Chugga, chugga, chugga' of two guitars thrashing up the start of a song I once played with these guys. I could not believe my ears and eyes. The drummer - who didn't know the songs - started busking a beat, thinking I was coming back on; I turned my back and left the stage.
Five minutes later, the rest of us are all at each others throats whilst the two clowns on stage do a melody of their old material. One their own. Accusations of 'Who knew about this??' flew about, along with 'We're never gonna get paid for this!' Then, the two sax players - whom I had coaxed into the band - upped saxes and leave, saying they'll never play with us again. Same for drummer, whom I was quite close to and had also brought into the band. We sat around, waiting more on the PA/Backline truck turning up, rather than on the the hat going around.
After a fashion, when it was all over, an air of despondency and embarrassment hung about the place, a few drunk men and women came over and told us how poopie we were and that we should GFTO. Something bad had gone down for this level of abuse. It was then that I found out, from a third party, that the coven of girlfriends of the two guitarists weren't having much luck with hat-pass and were offering sexual favours to men present if they put a few Quid in the hat! I was fkn mortified.
Then we found that the PA/Backline truck wasn't turning up due to some money issue. By then, I'd had enough. Drummer and I de-rigged our own gear and loaded out together, each driving home separately, probably just over the DD limit. That band never reconvened again.
Playing bass in an R&B band (Female vox, gtr, bass, drums, 2 x sax) which was the vehicle for the female singer. One night at rehearsals, the (extremely dodgy) guitarist told us he had been approached by a woman at the end of our most recent gig. Woman waxes lyrical about how she liked us and wanted us to play at her forthcoming birthday bash but couldn't afford it. The guitarist - who would do a gig for the exposure only!! - said to her 'No worries, we'll play! If it's cool with you, we'll pass the hat at the end of our set.'
We went nuts when we heard this but the gig had been agreed to. Guitarist's logic was that if every person attending put £1 (300 pax) in we'd make more than our usual rate. Also, around about that same time, guitarist had been making noises about bringing in this other drug-buddy guitarist we all knew and who I had played with for a year or so. We all nixxi'd the idea for the bad one that it was surely to be proven as.
Fast forward to the event. I pulled up with my Trace rig in my estate car, went upstairs to the venue to get assistance and my heart sank when I saw the backline: drug-buddy's amp was sitting on stage right. A huge row broke out about this, not least because drug-buddy hadn't rehearsed our set. We played an average set with drug-buddy just filling in lead breaks. At the end of the final number, the female singer topped off the show as she always did. Final chord/drum strike and we prepared to leave the stage to indifferent applause.
Saxes, singer and myself are exiting stage left when we suddenly hear the 'Chugga, chugga, chugga' of two guitars thrashing up the start of a song I once played with these guys. I could not believe my ears and eyes. The drummer - who didn't know the songs - started busking a beat, thinking I was coming back on; I turned my back and left the stage.
Five minutes later, the rest of us are all at each others throats whilst the two clowns on stage do a melody of their old material. One their own. Accusations of 'Who knew about this??' flew about, along with 'We're never gonna get paid for this!' Then, the two sax players - whom I had coaxed into the band - upped saxes and leave, saying they'll never play with us again. Same for drummer, whom I was quite close to and had also brought into the band. We sat around, waiting more on the PA/Backline truck turning up, rather than on the the hat going around.
After a fashion, when it was all over, an air of despondency and embarrassment hung about the place, a few drunk men and women came over and told us how poopie we were and that we should GFTO. Something bad had gone down for this level of abuse. It was then that I found out, from a third party, that the coven of girlfriends of the two guitarists weren't having much luck with hat-pass and were offering sexual favours to men present if they put a few Quid in the hat! I was fkn mortified.
Then we found that the PA/Backline truck wasn't turning up due to some money issue. By then, I'd had enough. Drummer and I de-rigged our own gear and loaded out together, each driving home separately, probably just over the DD limit. That band never reconvened again.
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The wedding gig that the BL took for $800 because the bride was the ex of a good friend of his. It turned out that both families were multimillionaires
They wouldn't have blinked at $8000.
This isnt a bad gig story, but it is in line with this one.
We were playing a nice club in town. Very upscale place. As we were setting up, management was moving tables together to accommodate a party of about 20 at one place. It turned out to be for a recent Lottery winner and his entourage of family, friends, etc.
We played our show, and all night the people at the table had been friendly and appreciative. As we were finishing up our last set, here came the multimillionaire himself, and said, "How much do want to play for another hour?"
I said, "Well, there's five of us, how about $500?"
He wouldnt have blinked at $5000.
Thats what I get for thinking small.
I know,.. zombie thread. Some of these stories are timeless!
I'll join in on the Zombie thread.
We played an acoustic gig at a brunch and someone approached us to be their "opening act" at a bar that Saturday. We didn't really know them but they were gonna pay us, so whatever.
We show up. Not many people at the bar, but there is a large stage and dance area.
They soundcheck, and I'm like "huh... they're really just putting in low effort on the soundcheck, huh"
We soundcheck quickly and are ready to open.
As the bar regulars were there, it was apparent they were not interested in live music, and apparent they had seen this performer before. This performer had an entourage of a handful of people. But the bar patrons didn't appear to care about the music.
We got up, and we absolutely did a great job. The bar patrons came and checked us out, were surprised we would be any good, and we got tipped okay. Not much dancing but they were happy to have listenable music, and there were a handful of people actively listening.
So far, nothing catastrophic... except that I am recovering from bronchitis and lose my wind on stage. So I am just trying to make it through the rest of our set. I finally do, and I sit down and grab my inhaler. Complements directed at our group all around, I'm thinking I had a collapsed lung.
And then the "headliner" came on and it was barely music. It was embarrassing, horrible, tone deaf, just... not even music. No one at the bar cared. The handful of people in the entourage cared. People just left.
So we just opened for possibly the worst band I ever heard in my life, and I thought I was gonna suffocate.
We got paid, so whatever I guess.
We played an acoustic gig at a brunch and someone approached us to be their "opening act" at a bar that Saturday. We didn't really know them but they were gonna pay us, so whatever.
We show up. Not many people at the bar, but there is a large stage and dance area.
They soundcheck, and I'm like "huh... they're really just putting in low effort on the soundcheck, huh"
We soundcheck quickly and are ready to open.
As the bar regulars were there, it was apparent they were not interested in live music, and apparent they had seen this performer before. This performer had an entourage of a handful of people. But the bar patrons didn't appear to care about the music.
We got up, and we absolutely did a great job. The bar patrons came and checked us out, were surprised we would be any good, and we got tipped okay. Not much dancing but they were happy to have listenable music, and there were a handful of people actively listening.
So far, nothing catastrophic... except that I am recovering from bronchitis and lose my wind on stage. So I am just trying to make it through the rest of our set. I finally do, and I sit down and grab my inhaler. Complements directed at our group all around, I'm thinking I had a collapsed lung.
And then the "headliner" came on and it was barely music. It was embarrassing, horrible, tone deaf, just... not even music. No one at the bar cared. The handful of people in the entourage cared. People just left.
So we just opened for possibly the worst band I ever heard in my life, and I thought I was gonna suffocate.
We got paid, so whatever I guess.
Some good stories here. Read with great interest.
Never had a gun or all out brawl at a gig. But I've definitely had the last minute/poor choice fill in spot, drunk guys who want to sit in, females disrobing that were obviously not qualified, beer dumped on equipment, equipment lost, overtly hostile wedding planners, equipment forgotten, drunk band members, a fire on stage, and even forgot a band member at a venue once.
Being in a band gives you lots of stories to laugh about later.
Never had a gun or all out brawl at a gig. But I've definitely had the last minute/poor choice fill in spot, drunk guys who want to sit in, females disrobing that were obviously not qualified, beer dumped on equipment, equipment lost, overtly hostile wedding planners, equipment forgotten, drunk band members, a fire on stage, and even forgot a band member at a venue once.
Being in a band gives you lots of stories to laugh about later.
Not my gig, but a friend of mine played a wedding a couple years ago where one of the guests had a heart attack and died on the dance floor. Needless to say, the show did not go on once that happened.
I played at a Jewish wedding once. Towards the end of the Horah (about 15 minutes in), the bride's father collapsed on the dance floor directly in front of the band. We thought he'd had a heart attack, but no, he'd just been enjoying himself so much he'd keeled over from exhaustion. A few minutes later, and he was back on his feet. Great wedding.
In the 70's, I was in a band that did mostly Grateful Dead songs. We were kind of noted for playing the Europe 72 album. Showed up at a wedding gig and the hosts thought we were a Polka Band. I had always been in rock bands and had only played a polka maybe twice in my life. The guitar player (who booked the gig) refused to play polka's. The keyboard player announced he forgot his accordion . the vocalists said that didn't know any of the words . the drummer smiled and said " no problem" I think we beat him up afterwards. The kicker was that we did the brides sister's wedding the previous year and they really enjoyed us. This is a true story and the gig went steadily downwards from there.
along these lines.... I did a wedding where the BL had a heart attack on stage. 911 was called. (coincidentally, the hospital was directly across the street from the venue. We really should have just loaded him into a car and driven to the ER). Anyway....we see/hear the ambulance come screaming out of the hospital parking lot and take off down the street. ***? Wait...we hear it coming back and now its going past and down the street in the other direction. It finally pulls into the venue. At this point the best man in the wedding party is so angry (and drunk) that when the ambulance driver got out of the vehicle the best man punched him and knocked him out. Well now the police are called. Fast forward....BL is being taken out on a stretcher. BM is being taken away in cuffs.
BTW - BL recovered.
1980 Seattle playing in a new agency cover band. Agency sent us over to Westport, WA to play for a couple of weeks at a fishing resort Wed-Sun. Set up and the band was in a seperate room next door to the bar, which was the first time I had ever encountered that situation.
Thursday the Judge Bolt fishing decision came down and there was some mighty angry fisherman. That Friday night all hell broke loose. By contract there was supposed to be a bouncer in the seperate room, but there was not. By around 11:00pm a huge fight broke out and tables started tipping, ashtrays started flying, knives came out, and someone threw a chair across the dance floor at the band. BL went over to the bar to complain and the bartender shut the place down.
A band house was provided in the next town down the coast about 8 miles away. The girl in the band had brought her German Shepherd along. That night she let it out to pee and all of a sudden it started ki-yi-ing and a truck speeds away - had been shot with a pellet gun. Well of course all the locals know where the band house is and had paid a call.
Next morning we went to the Wesport police station and explained what had gone down, that we were pulling out since the contract had been broken (bouncer clause), and the situation was just to volatile. So the police were kind enough to escort us to the resort and stand guard as we started loading our gear out. Owner of the club pulls up wanted to know where we were going; to which we replied "home" explaining the riot and lack of protection and breach of contract. She was not pleased. Cops were kind enough to escort us out of town down to the main highway.
Weird thing is - and this has never happened before or since - we were paid for the week in advance on Friday = "so we could go to the bank and get our money to spend on the weekend." :O So it kind of worked out. We got a full weeks pay for two and a half nights work, but we lost a week - think we played a Fri/Sat tavern the next weekend to kind of make up for some of the loss.
Over the decades I've got a lot of stories, but this always stands out as the one that was most brutal where I feared for my well being.............. exzcept for the bus crash.
Thursday the Judge Bolt fishing decision came down and there was some mighty angry fisherman. That Friday night all hell broke loose. By contract there was supposed to be a bouncer in the seperate room, but there was not. By around 11:00pm a huge fight broke out and tables started tipping, ashtrays started flying, knives came out, and someone threw a chair across the dance floor at the band. BL went over to the bar to complain and the bartender shut the place down.
A band house was provided in the next town down the coast about 8 miles away. The girl in the band had brought her German Shepherd along. That night she let it out to pee and all of a sudden it started ki-yi-ing and a truck speeds away - had been shot with a pellet gun. Well of course all the locals know where the band house is and had paid a call.
Next morning we went to the Wesport police station and explained what had gone down, that we were pulling out since the contract had been broken (bouncer clause), and the situation was just to volatile. So the police were kind enough to escort us to the resort and stand guard as we started loading our gear out. Owner of the club pulls up wanted to know where we were going; to which we replied "home" explaining the riot and lack of protection and breach of contract. She was not pleased. Cops were kind enough to escort us out of town down to the main highway.
Weird thing is - and this has never happened before or since - we were paid for the week in advance on Friday = "so we could go to the bank and get our money to spend on the weekend." :O So it kind of worked out. We got a full weeks pay for two and a half nights work, but we lost a week - think we played a Fri/Sat tavern the next weekend to kind of make up for some of the loss.
Over the decades I've got a lot of stories, but this always stands out as the one that was most brutal where I feared for my well being.............. exzcept for the bus crash.
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I love this thread -keep it going. Story No 2:
It's August in Texas ya'l l and hotter than a $2 pistol at about 110 outside. I book a gig at this itty bitty food truck venue thinking it is going to be the next jump off for success.
I seemed to have a lot of these ideas back in the day. The day before I got my yearly occular migraine. Best thing to do with that is stay in where it is cool and dark. I spend the gig day in the cold just hoping i recover.
My body is not cooperating so head on to the venue. They kindly provide a small plank for a stage. ***??! This 10x 6 "stage" is like a nativity scene -also for added fun it bounces when anyone moves. This provides great ADVENTURE as I the lead singer like to jump around on the "stage" causing gear to bounce about to the chagrin of my mates! The 150 people i thought would show up turned out to be 15 LOL
The heat, the bouncing stage, the lack of groupies -it was rough. I was somehow pretty good while performing but at the breaks I wanted to both throw up and pass out. We all made it though but man!
Picture below the glorious stage and a occular migraine
It's August in Texas ya'l l and hotter than a $2 pistol at about 110 outside. I book a gig at this itty bitty food truck venue thinking it is going to be the next jump off for success.
I seemed to have a lot of these ideas back in the day. The day before I got my yearly occular migraine. Best thing to do with that is stay in where it is cool and dark. I spend the gig day in the cold just hoping i recover.
My body is not cooperating so head on to the venue. They kindly provide a small plank for a stage. ***??! This 10x 6 "stage" is like a nativity scene -also for added fun it bounces when anyone moves. This provides great ADVENTURE as I the lead singer like to jump around on the "stage" causing gear to bounce about to the chagrin of my mates! The 150 people i thought would show up turned out to be 15 LOL
The heat, the bouncing stage, the lack of groupies -it was rough. I was somehow pretty good while performing but at the breaks I wanted to both throw up and pass out. We all made it though but man!
Picture below the glorious stage and a occular migraine
