This gig's gone south, deal with it.

In the early '80s we ended up (due to a clueless booking agent) in Glasgow, Montana playing a little bitty bar called the Clansman. The room was so small we could only set up one side of the PA, and all the lights were on the floor since there was nothing on the ceiling to attach them to. (We didn't have trusses, but wouldn't have had room for them anyway.) We played every night that week, and went over well with the locals, who were comprised largely of oilfield workers. Toward the end of Saturday night, a fight broke out between two females. It started on the dance floor, rolled into the lady's room, and then back out to the dance floor. Our manager went over to try to break up the fight, and then some burly oilfield guy pushed him through two tables loaded with drinks and yelled "Let my mother fight her own goddam fights!" :rolleyes:

We also headlined an outdoor festival during that same era on the dirt infield of a car racing track here in Albuquerque. Beautiful day for the first few bands. We opened the set with Another Brick in the Wall Part 2, and played a recording of the helicopter sounds from the album full blast through the PA as the intro. As if on cue, right as the helicopters came over the PA, a 35-40 mph wind came up right into our faces. At the same time, the audience stood up and rushed the stage, which added to the amount of dust and sand hitting us in the teeth. The stage crew quickly grabbed a few kids to help hold down the drum set. Here's a photo showing the kids and one of the stage crew trying to keep things in place. I'm betting the kid under that rack tom lost some hearing that day. (BTW, that Mockingbird was one of the very first ever made. It was a prototype handmade by Bernie Rico before the model line was released.)

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@TG3K
That Mocking bird is/was a beautiful guitar. Those were damn fine instruments in the day.... hard to find those handmade BC Rich instruments anymore. Did yours have the pre-amp on board?
 
TG3K said:
In the early '80s we ended up (due to a clueless booking agent) in Glasgow, Montana playing a little bitty bar called the Clansman. The room was so small we could only set up one side of the PA, and all the lights were on the floor since there was nothing on the ceiling to attach them to. (We didn't have trusses, but wouldn't have had room for them anyway.) We played every night that week, and went over well with the locals, who were comprised largely of oilfield workers. Toward the end of Saturday night, a fight broke out between two females. It started on the dance floor, rolled into the lady's room, and then back out to the dance floor. Our manager went over to try to break up the fight, and then some burly oilfield guy pushed him through two tables loaded with drinks and yelled "Let my mother fight her own goddam fights!" :rolleyes:

We also headlined an outdoor festival during that same era on the dirt infield of a car racing track here in Albuquerque. Beautiful day for the first few bands. We opened the set with Another Brick in the Wall Part 2, and played a recording of the helicopter sounds from the album full blast through the PA as the intro. As if on cue, right as the helicopters came over the PA, a 35-40 mph wind came up right into our faces. At the same time, the audience stood up and rushed the stage, which added to the amount of dust and sand hitting us in the teeth. The stage crew quickly grabbed a few kids to help hold down the drum set. Here's a photo showing the kids and one of the stage crew trying to keep things in place. I'm betting the kid under that rack tom lost some hearing that day. (BTW, that Mockingbird was one of the very first ever made. It was a prototype handmade by Bernie Rico before the model line was released.)


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Click to expand...

LOL! I played that room. Did they put you up in the "band house"?
When we got done loading in, they gave us directions to the band house, there was a turkey in the oven (oven wasn't on)... looked like it had been there for a week.
We went to the club to rehearse one day and a small oriental old woman shelling peas for the Chinese restaurant next door had to let us in to the room.
 
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When I was just starting to perform (1964) I got a gig at the Methodist Church. They were trying to do stuff for kids. They had an "activities" hall. That's where I got to play. I had an acoustic guitar and they had a Bogen Challenger PA. A nasty affair with 2 column speakers. They strung a red light bulb in the corner and had a stool for me. I was jamming out all my best chops, but being largely ignored. So there I was "in the zone" so to speak. All of a sudden, I became aware that most of the activity in the room had ceased, and the kids were actually looking at me. Thrilled with my new found celebrity, I continued to wail. All of a sudden I became aware that my face was attached to the guitar by a long stringy thing, gleaming red in the luminescence of the red light bulb. In my guitar bliss, I was so in the zone, that I had drooled (actually, I was still actively drooling) and my face was attached to the 12th fret. So in my little world I was thinking that I had arrived as a musician and the kids were in awe. In that shattering moment, reality kicked my tail and I realized I was just a drooling twit. Welcome to the exciting world of music.

As an aside, I did learn one important lesson. Recovering from a bad note is easy. Recovering from drooling on your guitar, not so much.
 
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