WORST gig ever....... your stories

[MartinC]

:eek: :eek: .....sheesh dude, so far you played with a guy who was stabbed, a manager that was punched to death, and a guitar teacher that was shot in the head.....I would be finding a new "church" or something...change your karma or something...playing with you could be deemed dangerous!

No, really it's not been bad at all. The teacher-I wasn't even at that gig. I was curious about him so I googled him and only found one mention of a guy who might be him. I wonder if he's still alive.


The guy who got stabbed was in the same band that the poor guy who got killed managed. That was a rough outfit for sure. In fact, the manager was involved in stuff that most people would not believe. He was brought to the US as a small child, and grew up to become a small time criminal. As a young guy, he was busted and deported to central amercia, but he spoke no spanish. He became a bank robber in Costa Rica, and eventually came back to the US and helped form the band with a musician friend of his. Busted again, he was sent to San Quentin, where he wrote lyrics, some of which became songs the band played. When he got out, he became a cat burgler and helped the band in part with his "income". He was an amazing character, he dressed like a pirate-in fact he looked very much like Johnny Depp in the pirate movies, only he was for real. Depp could have copped his whole look straight from this guy had he seen him. He was surrounded by women, a rock star type but who couldn't sing or play. I guess his karma caught up to him. In spite of his occupation, I considered him a friend. The stories from the 5 years I played with those guys could fill a book for sure.
But for the last several years, it's been mostly corporates for me, so headset wearing uptight event planners are the most irritating thing I've run into for a long while.

[MartinC]

Freakin awesome!!

WE did one in the 70s- we were young guys all in our early 20s. WE got a call from a booking agent asking if we could do two weeks in Regina, Sakatchewan as the band they had booked canceled. We impulsively said "Yes! Roadtrip!" without giving it a second thought. Had we thought about it, we'd have realized that 1) Regina was almost 900 miles away, 2) it was the dead of winter in early February, and 3) there was a massive snow storm moving in. No matter, we rented a trailer which I hooked up to my 1973 Gran Torino (Starsky and Hutch car!) with no snow tires and took our other guitar player's '69 VW van with a heater that barely worked. Off we went. WE got stuck in a snow storm and they closed the freeway between Great Fall, MT and the Canadian border due to drifting snow so we sat in the car for about 6 hours. After slow going and a long, long drive we finally got there, a day late. The club owner was pissed already. They hand us a list of rules-no fraternizing with club guests, bands had to use the back door, take breaks in the kitchen etc etc. WTF? The club was huge; the stage was two tiered and about 30 feet long and 12 feet deep. They had their own house lights and sound guy. We opened the evening with our "little " 6 piece band and tey wanted to know where the rest of the band was! Turns out they were used tio having 8-10 piece black disco/funk horn bands from Minneapolis and Chicago and Toronto, guys wearing capes and fur boots and so on. Here we are, 6 pimplefaced white kids playing top 40 rock, R&B and disco. The management hated us, and bitched about us every night. They put us up in a band house that had no weather stripping on the front door, so every morning there would be blown snow in the entry way in a pile about 6 inches deep. It was like a refrigerator in there. We found out the second week we were opening for David Clayton Thomas, former lead singer for Blood Sweat and Tears. He was playing for 3 nights doing dinner shows there. WE were really excited. Until we met him, that is. He was an incredible douchebag. He treated the sound and light guys like servants, and bitched about the lights, even after the light guy brought in a bunch more of his own lights. He bitched about the sound, and threw his mic down on the stage after he did a grand Elvis gesture and shoved the mic in front of a monitor, causing feedback. He grabbed another mic, glared at the sound guy and yelled "Come on, man!! Be a pro!" He called a section of the audience assholes because they were clinking glasses and he hearsd someone talking during a real quiet part of a song. And he swooped in on any chicks our band had met after the show and invited them to his room for a little 'party'. After DCTs 3 nights, we were informed we were fired. Fine with us, we couldn't get out of there fast enough. Pay us an we'll leave. The guy wanted to dock us the rest of week two and the first night we missed because of bad weather and send us on our way. We showed him the contract and said he had to pay us. After much wrangling and threats, we finally got our full two weeks pay and left. it was dark and the wind started blowing hard, and even though the sky was clear, the road was whited out almost all the time. A truck would pass the other way and I'd lose sight of the road altogether for about 10 seconds. It was unnerving, to say the least. Finally, we came out of the snow and it was bare and dry near Lethb idge and I could relax. The singer and I were having a nice chat and the bass player was asleep in the back seat when all of a sudden, a person appeared in the middle of the road, wearing dark clothes and waving a dark bandanna. WTF? I swerved to miss them, and there were two more people in the road, so I swerved the other way, the trailer rolled, popped off the hitch, went over one way, came back op, went over the other way, came back up, and when I stopped it went right up the trunk of my car and the hitch rammed through the rear window, where it shoved through the roof and there it sat on the trunk of my car. My poor bass player woke up to a shower of glass and a trailer tongue above his head. Turns out is was a bunch of locals having an impromptu party on the sides of the road, with cars parked on either side, and they were all drunk. One came over and asked if we were okay; we said we were and they all scattered. The RCMP came and got a tow rig to get the trailer off my trunk; we hooked it back up and he escorted us to town to get a motel. Next day, I had to viscuine and duct tape my back window, and we checked the gear. Half our PA was destroyed and a couple of bass cabinet speakers were torn. We finally got back on the road, and 90 miles from home, we ran into a freezing rain storm, so we had to drive the last 90 miles at about 10-20 mph. I guess that's the worst gig I ever did .

 

[Tedddy]

a few days before one of our first show i had a HUGE cold sore outbreak. my mouth looked like a jellyfish had thrown up and died on my face.

Try lysine supplements, 2,000 mg daily

[Lee Knight]

Roadtrip!!!!

WE did one in the 70s- we were young guys all in our early 20s. WE got a call from a booking agent asking if we could do two weeks in Regina, Sakatchewan as the band they had booked canceled. We impulsively said "Yes! Roadtrip!" without giving it a second thought. Had we thought about it, we'd have realized that 1) Regina was almost 900 miles away, 2) it was the dead of winter in early February, and 3) there was a massive snow storm moving in. No matter, we rented a trailer which I hooked up to my 1973 Gran Torino (Starsky and Hutch car!) with no snow tires and took our other guitar player's '69 VW van with a heater that barely worked. Off we went. WE got stuck in a snow storm and they closed the freeway between Great Fall, MT and the Canadian border due to drifting snow so we sat in the car for about 6 hours. After slow going and a long, long drive we finally got there, a day late. The club owner was pissed already. They hand us a list of rules-no fraternizing with club guests, bands had to use the back door, take breaks in the kitchen etc etc. WTF? The club was huge; the stage was two tiered and about 30 feet long and 12 feet deep. They had their own house lights and sound guy. We opened the evening with our "little " 6 piece band and tey wanted to know where the rest of the band was! Turns out they were used tio having 8-10 piece black disco/funk horn bands from Minneapolis and Chicago and Toronto, guys wearing capes and fur boots and so on. Here we are, 6 pimplefaced white kids playing top 40 rock, R&B and disco. The management hated us, and bitched about us every night. They put us up in a band house that had no weather stripping on the front door, so every morning there would be blown snow in the entry way in a pile about 6 inches deep. It was like a refrigerator in there. We found out the second week we were opening for David Clayton Thomas, former lead singer for Blood Sweat and Tears. He was playing for 3 nights doing dinner shows there. WE were really excited. Until we met him, that is. He was an incredible douchebag. He treated the sound and light guys like servants, and bitched about the lights, even after the light guy brought in a bunch more of his own lights. He bitched about the sound, and threw his mic down on the stage after he did a grand Elvis gesture and shoved the mic in front of a monitor, causing feedback. He grabbed another mic, glared at the sound guy and yelled "Come on, man!! Be a pro!" He called a section of the audience assholes because they were clinking glasses and he hearsd someone talking during a real quiet part of a song. And he swooped in on any chicks our band had met after the show and invited them to his room for a little 'party'. After DCTs 3 nights, we were informed we were fired. Fine with us, we couldn't get out of there fast enough. Pay us an we'll leave. The guy wanted to dock us the rest of week two and the first night we missed because of bad weather and send us on our way. We showed him the contract and said he had to pay us. After much wrangling and threats, we finally got our full two weeks pay and left. it was dark and the wind started blowing hard, and even though the sky was clear, the road was whited out almost all the time. A truck would pass the other way and I'd lose sight of the road altogether for about 10 seconds. It was unnerving, to say the least. Finally, we came out of the snow and it was bare and dry near Lethb idge and I could relax. The singer and I were having a nice chat and the bass player was asleep in the back seat when all of a sudden, a person appeared in the middle of the road, wearing dark clothes and waving a dark bandanna. WTF? I swerved to miss them, and there were two more people in the road, so I swerved the other way, the trailer rolled, popped off the hitch, went over one way, came back op, went over the other way, came back up, and when I stopped it went right up the trunk of my car and the hitch rammed through the rear window, where it shoved through the roof and there it sat on the trunk of my car. My poor bass player woke up to a shower of glass and a trailer tongue above his head. Turns out is was a bunch of locals having an impromptu party on the sides of the road, with cars parked on either side, and they were all drunk. One came over and asked if we were okay; we said we were and they all scattered. The RCMP came and got a tow rig to get the trailer off my trunk; we hooked it back up and he escorted us to town to get a motel. Next day, I had to viscuine and duct tape my back window, and we checked the gear. Half our PA was destroyed and a couple of bass cabinet speakers were torn. We finally got back on the road, and 90 miles from home, we ran into a freezing rain storm, so we had to drive the last 90 miles at about 10-20 mph. I guess that's the worst gig I ever did .

[tglbasser]

Worst gig--started the second set--the whole police force,FBI, dogs etc come walking in. They stop the band. Searched the bar and everyone in it. Found one small pot pipe. Everyone left. We played another set and went home (50 miles away). I only made probubly 30 bucks--that sucked.

[karlw]

this was about 1987 or 88 in Tucson. My band recently had gotten a new drummer who was pretty good - he was also in another band that was popular in town. So we get asked to play a house party, and we're figuring on there being maybe a few dozen people there... Well, once the party got started we were setting up and didn't really realize how big it was getting. We were in the living room starting to play our set of punk originals and a few covers. Suddenly my d string breaks and of course I'm a total douche and I don't have a backup guitar. So I try to get back to the bedroom where my case is but it's really crowded. Finally, after a lot of pushing and shoving, I make it back there to get another string. Mind you, I have a freaking Floyd Rose, so I can't just fake it. And of COURSE, the spare string I have is the wrong gauge, so I have to work pretty hard to get the whole guitar back in tune.

 

Meanwhile, the band is continuing on somehow... not really sure but I remember them possibly just vamping or improving... drums and bass/vocals. I'm sweating trying to get back out there. Finally, the guitar is somewhat ready and I push and shove my way back to the band and plug in. Just as we start into another song, someone runs in and says "Police!"

 

People start scattering but it's really crammed and it's not easy to get out of there. We grab our stuff and start to try and sneak out the back. We get into the back yard and realize that there are HUNDREDS of people there! So somehow we make it back to the singers VW minibus and throw everything in there and get moving.

 

We heard later that the people who were renting the house were busted, that some drugs were found, etc. We made it out of there by the skin of our teeth. Lots of work for basically nothing.... ah well, a good learning experience. I never went anywhere without two guitars from that day forward!

[RobRoy]

We found out the second week we were opening for David Clayton Thomas, former lead singer for Blood Sweat and Tears. He was playing for 3 nights doing dinner shows there. WE were really excited. Until we met him, that is.

 

 

I saw him in a show in Seattle around 1980. He was complaining about the size of the crowd in a relatively small place and at one point threw his mic at the crowd.

 

Wonder if he ever snapped out of it. It's a shame because I was always a huge BS&T fan.

 

Awesome story, btw.

[boxorox]

Eastern Shore of Md, 'bout 1981. Played a two story club, upstairs. Sort of nice seafood restaraunt, Local gentry, weekend/summer people, horse & sail folks, finish the night with crowd of crazy college kids. Well after 200+ years the main support beam cracked,so we played downstairs. Great! No humping equipment up the metal fire escape.
So downstairs is a full neighorhood bar, lotta farmrs, shoremen, factory workers. Great folks. Now everybody is crammed together in there. About to start the second set. To my left across the entry is a dark corner at the end of the bar. 'Bout four guys in there. One turns to leave, and "POP!!!". He gets hit in the head with a beer bottle. A little scuffle, I walk him outside. It's relevant, he was black, the assailant(s) white. So he's not really pissed, mostly indignant. Wants to go back in. "Bad idea", says I. Since we're right next door to the Cop House, I say "let's just go in and report it. I'll be your witness." Nah, but he'll think about it.
'Bout halfway through the set, he comes back in. Oh, {censored}. He starts talking to the guys, damned if it doesn't seem like they smoothed things out. He turns to go and "POP!!!", another bottle to the head. Another scuffle, he's so ballistic it's lik he's having a seizure, seems to be spinning horizontally in the air. Some locals rush the bottle dudes, me and another guy pick up the woundd guy and take him outside. Go into Cop House where they arrest HIM!!! He's screamin' "He's my witness. He's my witness!!!" Cops say they'll come by the club later to interview me. They had to come sooner. Back at the club, about half a dozen locals were beating the {censored} out of the agressor dudes in the corner, and everybody else seemed to think it was catch up time to settle old scores, and everybody was fighting everybody. Passed the instruments back into the corner, pulled back the mikes, got the amps up to the front of the stage, somehow got the speaks down, more to build a barricade than to save 'em. Broke down a couple of mike stands (God Bless the old Atlas Co.) and used them to push berserk drunks off the stage area. Finally the cops come. Local & State. We're putting stuff up as fast as we can when the owner sends me out to the ambulance. (I had glass from the back of the guys head ground into my arm from cradlng his head when we carried him, so I was bleeding a little too).
So I'm leaving the EMS van and take a look upand down the street. Every black person fom three counties must have been there. Hundreds of people. The entire street was full, even around the block. What really raised the hair on my neck was they were absolutely silent. Bearing witness. A vigil for justice. Also a potential powder keg. Police wasn't letting anybody out of the club without escort.
Well, even though the job ended early, we had to wait around until about three until the police got all our statements, and it's the only time I've ever loaded out with a Police Escort and been given directions to the back way out of town. Have to say it was a pretty strange night.