Gig report: 666 - long yet amusing

Played a gig with West Eats Meat at the "Trinumeral Festival" (translation:
666 Festival) in Asheville. NC. For those that don't know. Asheville is
like a miniature version of San Francisco. compressed into a mountain town
the size of maybe Syracuse. I'm carpooling with the Drummer. We're scheduled to go on at 8 (which means
10). so we leave around 5. Destination: a new club that a promoter friend of
ours has taken over for the evening.
The trip was uneventful. We get to the place. and look for
our "membership card"...
Now I've visited a fair amount of America. but I have YET to encounter as
many Byzantine. yet actively enforced laws regarding alcoholic
beverages and alcohol establishments as I find in North and South Carolina.
Basically. it breaks down something like this: If the place does less than
xx% business in food. it is classified as a "private club". To operate a
"private club". you must sell yearly "memberships" AND keep a list of your
"members" for any ALE (Alcohol Law Enforcement) inspector that wants to see
it. Obviously. this is a hinderance to walk-in traffic. which is how the
Fundies want it. There are as many exceptions. and just plain scofflaws as there
are rules though - The vast majority of non-food places I play at don't do
ANYTHING; others keep a token "list" in a legal pad. and your cover charge
is your "membership". A very few others are true "members clubs" that charge
a yearly admission in exchange for discounted drinks and the like. And it's
even easy to get in THESE clubs without a membership.
So we go to look for our "membership cards" (translation: we get in for
free). amid the TWO door guys. These are classy looking. glossy
cards too - however neither of us have a "membership". There's an awkward
silence among the four of us. then the one of the guys says "Tell you what.
I'll INVITE you in (another Prohibition loophole. apparently). No problem.
We start to walk in. and the second guy. this dirty fucking Hippie. I didn't evenTHINK to bring mine as: a) I wasn't driving b) I haven't
been proofed in a club like EVER. and I've certainly NEVER been proofed as a
PLAYER - even when I WAS underage c) no one told me that I would NEED ID to
get in d) I have some major 4th Amendment issues regarding this de facto
24/7 carrying of ID anyway. so I do it as little as possible.
So I casually tell him that I don't have it and start to walk in. I'm 38. I
have crows feet. the start of salt and pepper hair. plus
I'M IN THE FUCKING BAND! It should be pretty obvious to even the most
retarded idiot that I am older than 21. and if by some chance I'm NOT. I'm
not there to cause trouble.
Apparently not to The Hippie. He gives me "Dude. Dude". Now at this point. it was really
taking every ounce of mental effort not to hit the guy. Seriously.
I HATE stupidity. Second of all. REALLY hate blind
and slavish devotion to "the rules". And third. there is nothing - I mean
NOTHING - worse than being talked down to by a hippy - and a hippy who's
HALF MY AGE to boot. When the FUCK has ANY Hippie been concerned about the
"rule of law" anyway? So before I do anything rash. I ask to see "our guy" the promoter. Turns out
he's playing a set on the patio.The patio which I can't get to because I
can't get in.
Fine. Whatever. We go to the bar next door. a beautifully dank shithole
which *surprise surprise* had NO guestlist. and we drink for about an hour
to the dulcet tones of Judas Priest.
Go back to the club. Promoter's band has just finished it's set. I lean over
the railing and explain my predicament. thinking he'll just talk to "his
guys" out front and square it away.
He suddenly grabs my hand and yanks me over the cast iron railing.
I try to catch up. but I stumble and break a glass on the way in - in front
of all his fans. What an entrance.
They spirit me inside and give me a VIP pass. Turns out the guys up front
work for the CLUB. and they are being hardasses because
they are new. So now. I have to duck and hide like some 15 year old kid at a
Talas concert so Hippie and co. don't spot me...
...Long story short: After mucho negotiations which I know nothing about. a
deal is struck. I come outside. and they will "X" my hands so I can't drink.
Apparently they were having a LOT of problems with getting musicians in the
door. and their bong-addled brains found some sort of level. So I go out
like some Russian dissident. and get my hands X'ed - probably the first time
ever a 40 year old has been marked as "underage".
...Not that that stopped me. of course. As I couldn't be seen drinking a
beer (lest they tell my parents). the guys bought me shots. I whacked down a
couple double tequilas just before setup...
The gig went pretty well. I started off with the Ashbory. the first time I
have used it live. I liked it a lot. but it needs a preamp to work with my
GK. Lots of bass players came over to check it out. I can see switching to
it when I get the arthritis someday.
We played 2 long improvisations. In general. the mood of the crowd was one
of stunned silence. Even though there was a breakdancing contest going on
inside the club. no one left. There were lots of people coming up to the
stage. and squinting at our instruments. the people - Freak-o-Rama. Lots of goths dressed up as Devils. Lots of
Hippies and Hippie chicks too. There was one "jam" band that played. and as
soon as they would do that "maj7 jam band riff" - you know the one - the
hippie chicks would swarm the dancefloor. Made me think of that Dave
Chapelle skit about white people and guitar music...
we had to clear off quickly to make way for the "fire show". Now
THIS was some crazy shit. A guy on stilts waving a scimitar of flames.
chicks eating fire. guys having a mock battle with fire swords and shields.
guys breathing fire a la Gene Simmons. and the piece de resistance. a
Pentagram drawn on the ground in lighter fluid and set in fire. All this was
going on like 5 feet from us as we were loading out. It was no joke either:
When they guys blew fire. it felt like when you open an oven door. Plus.
guys were getting burned. and doing their best to hide it. It was pretty
SERIOUS.
Went out to a blues jam session after that and saw what happens "When Blues
Jams Go Wrong"; ate a Slim Jim. and got home about 3:30AM. Slept like a
mofo. Didn't get paid SHIT. I'd do it again. except this time I'd punch the
Hippie..
Conservatives are not necessarily stupid.
but most stupid people are conservatives."
- John Stuart Mill


Conservatives are not necessarily stupid.
but most stupid people are conservatives."
- John Stuart Mill

the band I'm in opened at an outside gig for an Eric
Sardinas show. I'm not a huge blues fan but even so. Sardinas is
pretty darn impressive - so I was really looking forward to the show.
I get to the place with my wife (we'd been told band members were
allowed one guest each). explained I was with the opening band and was
told "well. we can let you in but your wife has to pay". I explained
that's not what we were told. "Sorry". the gate keeper said. "When the rest of the opening band wants to know where
their bass player is. you tell them you couldn't let him in. I'll be
parked across the street in case you change your mind."
A bit later our lead singer shows up to my van and I explain the
situation. He runs off and talks to someone and pretty soon he comes
back and they let us in. A bit later though. Gate Guy comes up and
says "Your wife still has to pay". This was already one of our lowest
paying gigs ever - basically doing it for the exposure. "No. "But we'd be happy to leave now if that would help"
He walks away. comes back later and says "Well. you both can stay until
you play but then your wife will have to pay or leave." "Fine" I
replied.
came back later and said
he'd gotten permission for both my wife and I to stay but by then. I
had quite a bad taste in my mouth. I played the job. packed up my gear.
took my wife and left.
(To avoid any misunderstandings. I should add here that the
Sardinas crew was not in any way responsible for this incident --
nor even aware of it -- and had absolutely nothing to do with the
people who were being jerks. The few people in their
crew I did speak to seemed pretty down to earth and I didn't think it
appropriate to bore them with my story.)


If it's really too long. divide it into 2-3 chapters. That'll keep the
interest going for a couple of days.
Some people get a personnality transformation as soon as you give them a
"security" job. They don't think or use good judgement. The rules are the
rules.

wait till the real antichrist shows up and engraves your
id on your forehead. then you'll really have something to bitch about
!
We could take turns! If I had a dime for every
time I almost died on the water....

The actual incident is that a fuel line ruptured in the middle of the night.
and the ship's engine blew up. The resulting fireball roared up the
staircase from the Engine Room to the Bridge Deck. and melted through a 2 in
thick firedoor like a blowtorch scorching the opposite fireproof wall
black - about three feet from my door. Had I been any closer. that thing
would have gone right under my door. and I wouldn't be talking to you now.
But that's not even the GOOD part. It's all the stuff surrounding it. and
what happened after. that makes it an A+ story.
Conservatives are not necessarily stupid.
but most stupid people are conservatives."
- John Stuart Mill

Conservatives are not necessarily stupid.
but most stupid people are conservatives."
- John Stuart Mill

I hate to be Mr. Negative. but I wish people wouldn't paste three word
replies at the bottom of a 36 meter long story. As musicians and bass
owners. we should be sensitive to the potential RSI injuries caused by
having to flick the little scroll wheel 54 times. I think I have built a
callous for that. but still... I don't enjoy the smell of the burning
rubber. I Think I have skid marks on my mouse finger :-)