I know that I've covered a lot of this ground before and lots of other people have too. It's nothing new to have a spectacularly bad gig but when it happens, it always takes you by surprise. You can't prepare for it and the psychological fall-out is bloody huge....for about five minutes.
Last night we played a town about 30 miles away from where I live. It's a very different place to the town I live in. Where I live, not a great deal happens (in an arty way) and everyone desperately tries to be as laid back as possible. (you should see the london types wearing massively expensive 'sruffy' gear) The place we played last night was not like this.
On the way to the gig, we discussed the strange feeling known as 'The Nameless Dreads'. That odd feeling of apprehension that you get despite not having anything to worry about. A feeling of blameless anxiety and worry. Most people suffer from it at some point, don't they? I often end up worrying about the fact that I have nothing to worry about. Second guessing your conscience is never bright.
Anyway, we arrived at the pub and got shown to where we would be playing. We've played the pub before but only as a duo and never in the same position twice. Each time, we have been put somewhere else and this time was no exception. We were placed 'down the end' in what felt like a shoe-box. A tight space with walls both sides and a low ceiling. I don't want to get technical but that is not an acoustically promising space.
Kellys Heroes are a loud band. I wish we weren't but we are. We have tried to calm it down but it never works. We all plead innocence and say, "It's not me!" but we all secretly know that it's all of us. The drummer hits the drums like he's playing 'whack-a-mole', the bassist has so much low-end that we all need surgery on our knees, the guitarists genuinely believe that they're playing Wembley and the singer shouts and screams like a man possessed. All in all, a noisy bunch of bastards.
I could write a whole book on the inner workings of band volume but I can't be arsed. Every gigging muso knows what I mean and every one of them is guilty of the same crimes.
So we set up, all agree it's far too loud and then retire to the bar. One of our number has to 'work' the room as about five ex-girlfriends have turned up (mostly with new blokes) and the rest of us slink off to the garden. We sit and discuss how loud it is, how bad it sounds and how it'll deafen everyone. We still do nothing about it but it's always good to talk about these things.
None of this is helping my feeling of unease.
We start playing to about ten or twelve people and after the first few songs we get the sort of applause that you usually hear at a village cricket match. All rock & roll so far. About six songs in and people start to show up. As soon as this happens, the band play louder. God knows why but it always happens. We finish the first set, hide in the garden and throw beer down our necks. So far so normal.
By the time we come back inside to start the second set, the place has filled up. It's busy with all sorts of different groups. Great, at least some of these people have to like us. We start the set and immediately my heart sinks. Right in front of us is a group of 'ladies' on a girly night. Oh joy!
A lady with big bones and even bigger tattoos decides she's my best mate. She repeatedly shows off her pole dancing skills to my mic stand. She drags various friends to the front and then flings them about but most of all, she stares. For whole songs she stands right in front of me and just stares. Basically what this means is that no one else can see anything of me except the top of my head. This gets me annoyed.
You can't tell a woman to f*ck-off over a microphone. You can do it to a man but for some reason you can't do it to a woman and if ever there was a time I wanted to, it was now. The nameless dreads had turned in to full blown anger. I was in a proper diva huff. Nothing was going to change my mood and all I wanted to do was go home. If nothing else than to give my ears a rest from the immense racket.
My mood was not helped by the guitarist introducing me as gay, before accidentally dropping a stage light on my head. It never rains........
Normally these things in isolation wouldn't annoy me but for some reason, it was one of those nights. A night that you wish had never happened. A night that made me think I need to change professions. A night that made me want to quit bands for good and take up darts. A night that for no good reason, sucked.
And then I realised I was being a twat. Bloody musicians. Everyone has bad days. Stop being such a drama queen and get over yourself. Chalk it up to experience and move on to the next gig.
It's all part of being a gigging musician and we all go through it. I'm sure the audience had a whale of a time and that is all that matters, I guess. If it were not for this blog, my memories of this gig would fade quickly and be replaced by ones of great gigs yet to come.
Having said that, if that woman with the tattoos turns up at the next gig........
