Big Red on drums, Larry Williams on bass, Mike Wheeler on guitar and the incredible Jimmy Johnson on guitar and vocals. RIP Jimmy.
I love going out to catch some tunes don’t you? And as a musician, I think live music is the best. There’s magic in being in the same room with the musicians. On a tough night not all the players start in the same key. Or start the same song. If the drummer is sitting in for the usual player, tempos might be awkwardly different or brilliantly new. Sometimes the band hits a sweet spot and you get transported, grateful to be in that room with those people on that night.
I’m not sure why we musicians remember the bad gigs so vividly while the good gigs melt into a fuzzy, smiley haze. I guess the bad gigs make better stories. Like these:
–You’re set up and there are already lots of happy people drinking in the bar with more filing in. The atmosphere is pumped. You’re thrilled until you play and they absolutely ignore you. No one claps or acknowledges there’s a live band in the room. They seem pissed you’re there.
Midway through the second set management cuts the band’s power, turns up the sound on the four big screen TVs and dials in the local basketball game. You get shorted $100 “cause you didn’t play a full gig.” After arguing, you pack up and leave, scratching the venue off your list.
–It’s hot as blazes. But the mosquitoes are ecstatic you’re here. You’re playing outdoors for a company picnic. It’s sultry but it feels like it’s going to be a good night. Some music lovers wander over nodding appreciatively to the tunes. At dusk a stage light comes on. Suddenly you’re playing while being bombarded by bugs attracted to the stage lights. The singer swallows a gnat (she hopes) and starts choking mid-song. The guitar player comes to the rescue with an impromptu solo while she washes the bug down.
With 20 minutes of the gig left to go the stage is plunged into darkness during a spectacular organ solo and fireworks start. It’s so hot all the smoke from the fireworks stays at waist level which, although probably toxic, takes care of the mosquitos. The band finishes the song and packs it up. You haul your hot, tired sweat-soaked bodies to a nearby bar for the much-needed AC and iced drinks.
–The bar is packed with rowdy clientele who have already exceeded their collective blood alcohol level. The waitress says they belong to unrelated bachelorette and bachelor parties. The band rearranges the set list cause these folks don’t need warming up. Right away people are dancing to everything, filling the tip jar, and flinging drinks on the band when they spin one another around. When they decide to make a human pyramid on the dance floor the band, while still playing, shuffles to the back of the stage just in case. One wasted guy stands directly in front of the band and propositions the singer while drunkenly spitting in her face. She tells him to back off and he tries to yank her off the stage. When she screams, “f*** off, d***head,” the band takes a break.
Was the mayhem worth the door plus the tips? Well, if it paid your bar bill and you actually had money left over the answer is yes.
I’ve been in the music business over 30 years. The good gigs far outweigh the bad ones. Even bad gigs can have their great moments or at least one or two laughs. With few exceptions, there’s always someone who makes your night by telling you how much they loved the band.
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