Personal Gig Trainwrecks

Lopp

Roadie
Messages
158
What are the most amusing trainwrecks you have had at a gig?

In my experience, the audience can be quite forgiving.

1. At my very first gig, I thought it would be cool to jump off a stage monitor onto the dance floor. I ended up landing in a puddle of beer, slipping, and falling on my derrière. I had to finish the song sitting in the beer puddle with a soaking butt. I was embarrassed, but after the show, some peeps came up to me and mentioned they thought it was so cool I kept playing and finished the song.

2. A drummer in another band I was in was into the whole flashy theatric drummer thing, sometimes at the expense of the song. At one gig, he got so lost, the whole band had to stop mid-song because we had no clue what he was doing. We turned, looked at him, looked at each other, then somehow magically picked up right where we left off without saying a word. I don't know if they audience realized we had a train wreck or thought it was planned, but they cheered wildly.

What are your favorite personal gig trainwrecks?
 
We lost the bass drum out of the bed of a pickup truck, on a highway, on the way to a 4-nite gig. Fortunately the gig was in the town where our other guitarist and a band friend were both living and going to college, so they were able to find us a bass drum for the gig. We were only 1 hour late. On the ride back home we scoured that section of highway and never found a trace of it. A driver had flashed his lights to get us to pull over and told us he didn't know what it was, but he saw it coming towards him and almost hit it with his car. As soon as we pulled over, Rob, the driver/owner of the pickup, and the one who had loaded the gear said he knew right away it was the bass drum, but he thought he had wedged it down tight enough in between some speakers. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯:facepalm:bag

Even though we got a bass drum, I can't remember why, but the feet that hold it in place weren't working for Rob, so it kept sliding away from him, and he had to reach down when he had a split second, and keep pulling it back toward him. Once I noticed it, me and the bass player took turns standing in front of it to keep it in place!

We still laugh about it! :rofl That was like, 40 years ago. (Damn I'm old!)
 
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The 2013 annual Skate Till You Die event sponsored by Powell/Peralta and Spector Bass. Participants skateboarded between three destinations with gigs starting from Richmond (California, USA) to Freemont, and finally to San Jose (36mi total) with gigs at each location. Our band CHT was playing the final gig at a house. Cops were called, got shut down, relocated the gig, crazy moshpit, our singer got into a fight with a crowd member, got shut down again.



We eventually went on a DIY east coast tour (us being west coast Boys): sunk money into a van that broke down, played a single house show for some beer and experimental drugs, and barely made it back in one piece.
 
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Had a plastic nut fall off the jack of one of those beautifully designed and built 80s Marshalls. The shank of the jack is so damn short the nut only turns around it once if you’re lucky and the stock ones are plastic garbage. The jack fell into the amp. Puff of smoke then no power. 300 miles or so away from home.

Thank GOD I had my line 6 amp I used for lessons with me at the time.

Had a few straps and or strap buttons break from running around too much.
 
Late 1980s England...

I was playing bass in a band. I'm not even sure what the band's genre was supposed to be. It was a couple of hippies, a punk on drums and and me. I suppose it was verging on psychedelic rock, but a really bad, talentless and confused version of that.

My mum had discarded an old long-haired wig and I don't know why, but I used that for my stage persona. This is all so embarrassing and lame. I wore the long wig, secured to my head with a purple paisley bandana. Oh, and mirror shades. My face was mostly hidden.

We played supporting another band at a local community hall. It was dark and full of sweaty drunk 18 and 19 year olds.

We went on stage we were no doubt terrible; but that doesn't really matter, because it's par for the course at that sort of place. Teens just wanna hang out with their mates, get drunk and maybe find someone to snog or shag; they don't really care about the noise your band is making.

We played a few "songs", one of which concerned the excellent pharmaceutical qualities of mushrooms and then things got a lot worse. The local group of anarcho-punks had turned up.

These guys looked violent and I sensed that they were itching to start something nasty. The largest one, their "leader", a bear-chested man with big-ass dog leash chains hanging around his neck - I suspect he had necked a lot of booze, speed and possibly something else; well this guy started fire-breathing. I mean, real fire-breathing... no metaphors here. Let's call him Spike.

I don't know what he was putting in his mouth... lighter fluid maybe, but there was A LOT of it and whatever it was he was swigging - he was blowing huge flames high up towards the ceiling. The ceiling had what looked like polystyrene tiles on it. This was going to end so badly. Spike just seemed so full of rage and was baying for a fight, and even if he didn't get a fight, he was going to kill us all with fire anyway.

I don't remember much else, but things did get violent... a riot started and there were punches and chairs flying about. It was chaos with people running in all directions and it was pretty dark - there wasn't a proper lighting system.

My next memory is of being in the toilets. I'd pulled off my long wig, mirrored aviators, paisley headband and psychedelic shirt. I had short hair underneath and I looked different enough in my t-shirt, I guess. My bass was elsewhere.

Spike was in the toilets with me. I noticed that someone had smashed some toilet bowls already; probably Spike. There was large chunks of toilet bowl and water on the floor. He'd broken some doors and it looked like he was still wanting to smash shit up. He was raging.

I was terrified. Spike spotted me and came at me, shouting, "Have you seen that hippy bass player c**t from that band? I'm gonna f***ing kill him".

I barely managed to get out the words, "Nah... I haven't seen him".

And then, as it dawned on me that Spike didn't know he was talking to the bass player, I blurted out, "Yeah, that bass player - what a c**t!". Spike looked at me confused for just 1 second whilst he tried to string 2 thoughts together; so I quickly pushed past him and made my escape.

Last thing I remember as I left the scene, was the sound of the approaching police and fire engine sirens. I think the other band members had already hastily bundled my bass and crappy amp into a car, so it was already gone.

I read about the riot in the local newspaper the next day. I think this counts as a gig trainwreck?
 
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The two biggest that stand out to me were around the same time frame, the mid 00’s with the prog-metal band I started.

We’d often have to add a cover to our set to appease a bar/club owner, even though we were only interested in doing originals. Eventually we filled out our set enough that we could do a 4-hour gig mixing originals/covers and were able to make some money with the band. We were asked to cover Deftones “Shove It” for a gig and we all got f*cking shiiiiiiiiiitfaced at this gig. I was fairly cocky back then and had a “That song is stupid simple, we don’t need to practice it to death”.

We start playing it, I think this one of the few times I only sang and wasn’t playing guitar, I couldn’t remember a single lyric. I just remember the chorus coming up, my screaming “SHOOOOOOOOOVE”, and it was like all 4 of us started the chorus at different times. Total trainwreck. We all started laughing so hard we had to stop, made a half-ass apology to the audience (who were quite versed in our onstage drunkenness at this point as we made it ‘our thing’) and went to start it again…..same thing happened. I just said “F*ck this, sorry Cathy, we’ll do it better next time, I promise!” and went into Tool’s “Sober” which always worked out well for us.

The other time wasn’t so much a trainwreck as it was destroying the PA system. Our drummer had a half electric/half acoustic kit and triggered a bunch of our samples/bass bombs from the pads. We did the soundcheck and when he hit the 808 pad I heard the subs farting out, looked at the soundguy who didn’t seem to care at all and I told my drummer to just dial his output back a pinch. This was a Battle Of The Bands with the prize being put on the bill at a local venue where the international/bigger acts roll through.

We started our set with a sample from the movie Se7en and then some stuff we recorded that came to a crescendo where we’d start playing. Crescendo comes and I hear the speakers just dying, I look over at the soundman and he’s no where to be found. The chorus for the first song comes up, drummer hits that 808 pad and it sounded like the speaker literally farted. Every time he hit the kick drum it sounded like more farting. Then here comes Mr. Soundman running at us waving his hands, “YOU BROKE MY PA!!! YOU’RE PAYING FOR THIS!!!”

There was a good 15 minutes of people shouting at each other and pointing fingers, in front of about 200 people. We ended up finishing the gig without the subs, which sucked because those 808’s were sick. I still see that sound man every few months and he always points and laughingly says “Hey, I remember you! You broke my PA!”
 
First one that comes to mind, playing drums in a battle of the bands. We had to play on some kind of wooden stage and I didn't have a drum rug with me. Sure enough, the bass drum and hats and everything were sliding away from me the entire time. Might even have a video of that somewhere.

@DrewJD82 - my old band used to cover "Be Quiet and Drive". That was a crowd pleaser for sure.
 
First one that comes to mind, playing drums in a battle of the bands. We had to play on some kind of wooden stage and I didn't have a drum rug with me. Sure enough, the bass drum and hats and everything were sliding away from me the entire time. Might even have a video of that somewhere.

@DrewJD82 - my old band used to cover "Be Quiet and Drive". That was a crowd pleaser for sure.
This reminds me of a show my old band played at a venue with an enormous plywood stage. I'd just had the clever idea of programming my FCB1010 to engage a wah whenever it came out of full heel-down position - pretty novel at the time. I vetted the setup at rehearsal the day before; was convinced it would be great at the gig.

The drummer was a hard hitter, and as soon as we started playing, the whole stage picks up his rhythm, and finally starts heaving up and down. That expression pedal is flying all over the place, but I don't know it - all I know is everything sounds terrible. Wah all over everything LOL. By intermission I've figured out what's happening, and while the rest of the band kibitzes around the room, I'm sitting on the stage trying to re-program an FCB1010 - original firmware, no editor. o_O If you've ever had the pleasure, then you know this feat is best attempted in the privacy of one's own home. I failed, panicked, and as the rest of the band got back on stage, I hastily wrapped about 10ft of duct tape around the expression pedal to keep it from moving. No (intentional) wah that night. :D
 
This reminds me of a show my old band played at a venue with an enormous plywood stage. I'd just had the clever idea of programming my FCB1010 to engage a wah whenever it came out of full heel-down position - pretty novel at the time. I vetted the setup at rehearsal the day before; was convinced it would be great at the gig.

The drummer was a hard hitter, and as soon as we started playing, the whole stage picks up his rhythm, and finally starts heaving up and down. That expression pedal is flying all over the place, but I don't know it - all I know is everything sounds terrible. Wah all over everything LOL. By intermission I've figured out what's happening, and while the rest of the band kibitzes around the room, I'm sitting on the stage trying to re-program an FCB1010 - original firmware, no editor. o_O If you've ever had the pleasure, then you know this feat is best attempted in the privacy of one's own home. I failed, panicked, and as the rest of the band got back on stage, I hastily wrapped about 10ft of duct tape around the expression pedal to keep it from moving. No (intentional) wah that night. :D
JB Weld, duct tape, and vice grips can fix anything.
 
"If the women don't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy."

redgreen.jpg
 
Longest post ever. My bad. :LOL:


From around 2004 to 2016 I was hooked up with a booking agency that used to book bands I was
in, and also occasionally book me to support/back-up touring artists and local singer-songwriters. I
had a couple of sketchy gigs, but nothing like the one I am about to share. It was a hodge-podge band
thrown together to support a Roots/Americana/Blues singer who also played a Harmonica. I had played
with him before. He was fairly easy to work with, and fun. Not a lot of complicated material, and since he
strummed an acoustic and played harp I didn't have to carry many songs and could just fill and noodle.
I enjoyed the previous times I played with him, and was looking forward to this outdoor party that the
agency booked him for.

I spoke with the bass player for the gig (who was also paid to bring PA and run sound) a week or so beforehand.
He told me about this Motorhome he had and if I wanted to meet up and ride with him. He said rather than
drive home after the gig he was going to spend the night in his Motorhome and then drive back the next day.
"Hey, it's Summer!" I thought. This will be fun.

It was 70 miles south to the gig, and he lived on the way there, so I went to his place and loaded all of our gear
(and the PA) into the Motorhome. The PA was not the best and knowing "outdoor" gigs tend to require more
power/wattage I was kind of concerned. Too late to look back now so I knew we had to roll with it. My suspicions
were confirmed when "Tom" told me that he told the agency he would also haul the PA and run sound for an extra
$100.

Ok.

So we roll south on two lane highway and ask him if he knows where he is going. He says, "I kind of know where it
is at." Comforting. Another reason I seldom ride with other's at the last minute.

He has some scribbled directions on a piece of paper and NO ADDRESS. None! He says, "I guess it is just in the woods
someplace." So over the hill after the Big Oak tree on the left we turn right down a sandy road. In a Motorhome. He
says there are "supposed to be signs." I can't tell you how many times I thought that Motorhome with the dualies in
the back was gonna bury itself in the sand. It must have been 5 miles to the West of "we aren't gonna make it."

Somehow we did, though. We found the signs, and also a bunch of Harleys. We found the entrance to a piece of property
owned by a notorious and legendary Biker Gang. A conveniently concealed fact that the agency told none of us about,
as we would all find out later.

Tom and I were the first to arrive. The two-track trail leading back into the woods was NOT made for a Motorhome.
There were people all along that trail with their bikes and tents pitched in openings. There were burned out and
shot up old cars and trucks. Even a trailer or two that came there to die.

We still gonna spend the night, Tom? ;)

We get back in the woods with the Motorhome and see an opening, a partially covered stage, and a few outbuildings
were people are BBQ'ing and making food. Ok, maybe this won't be so bad. We park, get out, and go look for someone
in charge to tell them "We are the band." As if it is not already obvious.

We see this rather large man with a shaved head commanding what looks to be the "bar." We go up and introduce
ourselves, as I notice that he has swastikas tattooe'd on him and is wearing a T-shirt with Hitler on it.

So, where's the food?

Actually, I am queasy to my stomach. I am obviously not going to confront anyone surrounded by their "family" and
in their 'playground." This gig is going to SUCK!!!

In spite of his attire he is friendly enough and tells us to help ourselves to the food. Yells to someone to help us with
power to the stage, by calling out someone who has a "nickname." Everyone here has a nickname, I find out. He puts
a wristband on us (how professional!) and tells us to "have fun."

By this time the drummer and singer-songwriter show up. The singer-songwriter is PISSED THE FUCK OFF! I can tell.
I am trying to hush him up. He just wants to leave. "Fuck this shit!" He is purposely talking loud and I am afraid the
folks in the Bike Club are going to overhear him. I also have the thought that, "People have died here. People have
never left here."

Since I have played a few shows supporting him, and he seems to like me, I am able to get him to calm down, I tell him,
"Hey, we came all this way, and I don't think we are just leaving without a fight (or some repercussions), so let's just do your
show, get paid, and leave."

He agrees. So we set up on this pavilion with bouncy plywood that looks like it has been there for 30 years with all
the wear and tear that being outside brings. There is a generator about 200 feet behind the stage that the dude with
the nickname (again, the all have nicknames like "Ace" and "Spike" and "Bulldog") puts some gas into and fires up
so we can get some power and do a soundcheck. There is a single extension cord running from the generator to the
stage and it is supposed to power an entire PA, and our guitar and bass amps. I just cross my fingers.

We get all set up and have an hour to soundcheck before we play. The bass player's amp immediately takes a shit.
No sound. Nothing. (Now I know it got toasted due to the shitty power situation). So we are suddenly trying to figure
out a way to run his bass through the PA solely. All of this gets the singer-songwriter going again, "This isn't fucking
worth all the hassle."

This time I am less able to calm him down and he literally starts tearing his shit down.

We are going to die! We are all going to die!

The entire time he is tearing his gear down I am talking to him. "We have to see this through. They are expecting us
to play now. You can't just leave and then not put us all in danger."

I am practically begging him to reconsider.

He does. He puts his shit back on the stage. We fire up, figure out a way to get the bass player's guitar through the
PA, and for the rest of the night when he plays a note the lights on the stage dim and flicker. We expect everything to
fail at any moment. Fun way to play the gig. :)

We actually make it through our sets, the singer seems to get into it a little (after some massaging with marijuana in the
Motorhome!!) and we end the night with the only issue being the generator running out of gas mid song. Not our fault!! :)

By the end of it everyone is ready to pack the fuck up and get out of there!! All except Tom the bass player who is still
going to spend the night here. :( I mean, he has the Motorhome.

During teardown the drummer slips on the steps leading off the pavilion stage, and later tells me that he broke his
wrist when he fell.

The singer-songwriter and drummer leave. Tom and I stay in the Motorhome, don't mingle with the crowd, and inside his
Motorhome listen to round after round of gunfire, loud voices, and visions of our impending death. Alcohol and a stray
bullet. What a way to go??

I don't sleep. At the crack of dawn the Club is still partying. I go outside to what looks like a warzone, people are passed out
around the massive firepit with ash from the bonfire on them, and I am waking Tom up to get the fuck out of here.

Tom's like, "I slept great. Wanna stop and get breakfast somewhere."

Sure, Tom. Sure. :)
 
Yeah.. I ain't beating that, lmao!

First thing that comes to mind was the show that my drunk bass player invited the stripper from the night before... she came on stage during the set and kissed him on the cheek... and then his girlfriend came on stage and slapped him in the face

Fun show!
 
Longest post ever. My bad. :LOL:


From around 2004 to 2016 I was hooked up with a booking agency that used to book bands I was
in, and also occasionally book me to support/back-up touring artists and local singer-songwriters. I
had a couple of sketchy gigs, but nothing like the one I am about to share. It was a hodge-podge band
thrown together to support a Roots/Americana/Blues singer who also played a Harmonica. I had played
with him before. He was fairly easy to work with, and fun. Not a lot of complicated material, and since he
strummed an acoustic and played harp I didn't have to carry many songs and could just fill and noodle.
I enjoyed the previous times I played with him, and was looking forward to this outdoor party that the
agency booked him for.

I spoke with the bass player for the gig (who was also paid to bring PA and run sound) a week or so beforehand.
He told me about this Motorhome he had and if I wanted to meet up and ride with him. He said rather than
drive home after the gig he was going to spend the night in his Motorhome and then drive back the next day.
"Hey, it's Summer!" I thought. This will be fun.

It was 70 miles south to the gig, and he lived on the way there, so I went to his place and loaded all of our gear
(and the PA) into the Motorhome. The PA was not the best and knowing "outdoor" gigs tend to require more
power/wattage I was kind of concerned. Too late to look back now so I knew we had to roll with it. My suspicions
were confirmed when "Tom" told me that he told the agency he would also haul the PA and run sound for an extra
$100.

Ok.

So we roll south on two lane highway and ask him if he knows where he is going. He says, "I kind of know where it
is at." Comforting. Another reason I seldom ride with other's at the last minute.

He has some scribbled directions on a piece of paper and NO ADDRESS. None! He says, "I guess it is just in the woods
someplace." So over the hill after the Big Oak tree on the left we turn right down a sandy road. In a Motorhome. He
says there are "supposed to be signs." I can't tell you how many times I thought that Motorhome with the dualies in
the back was gonna bury itself in the sand. It must have been 5 miles to the West of "we aren't gonna make it."

Somehow we did, though. We found the signs, and also a bunch of Harleys. We found the entrance to a piece of property
owned by a notorious and legendary Biker Gang. A conveniently concealed fact that the agency told none of us about,
as we would all find out later.

Tom and I were the first to arrive. The two-track trail leading back into the woods was NOT made for a Motorhome.
There were people all along that trail with their bikes and tents pitched in openings. There were burned out and
shot up old cars and trucks. Even a trailer or two that came there to die.

We still gonna spend the night, Tom? ;)

We get back in the woods with the Motorhome and see an opening, a partially covered stage, and a few outbuildings
were people are BBQ'ing and making food. Ok, maybe this won't be so bad. We park, get out, and go look for someone
in charge to tell them "We are the band." As if it is not already obvious.

We see this rather large man with a shaved head commanding what looks to be the "bar." We go up and introduce
ourselves, as I notice that he has swastikas tattooe'd on him and is wearing a T-shirt with Hitler on it.

So, where's the food?

Actually, I am queasy to my stomach. I am obviously not going to confront anyone surrounded by their "family" and
in their 'playground." This gig is going to SUCK!!!

In spite of his attire he is friendly enough and tells us to help ourselves to the food. Yells to someone to help us with
power to the stage, by calling out someone who has a "nickname." Everyone here has a nickname, I find out. He puts
a wristband on us (how professional!) and tells us to "have fun."

By this time the drummer and singer-songwriter show up. The singer-songwriter is PISSED THE f**k OFF! I can tell.
I am trying to hush him up. He just wants to leave. "f**k this s**t!" He is purposely talking loud and I am afraid the
folks in the Bike Club are going to overhear him. I also have the thought that, "People have died here. People have
never left here."

Since I have played a few shows supporting him, and he seems to like me, I am able to get him to calm down, I tell him,
"Hey, we came all this way, and I don't think we are just leaving without a fight (or some repercussions), so let's just do your
show, get paid, and leave."

He agrees. So we set up on this pavilion with bouncy plywood that looks like it has been there for 30 years with all
the wear and tear that being outside brings. There is a generator about 200 feet behind the stage that the dude with
the nickname (again, the all have nicknames like "Ace" and "Spike" and "Bulldog") puts some gas into and fires up
so we can get some power and do a soundcheck. There is a single extension cord running from the generator to the
stage and it is supposed to power an entire PA, and our guitar and bass amps. I just cross my fingers.

We get all set up and have an hour to soundcheck before we play. The bass player's amp immediately takes a s**t.
No sound. Nothing. (Now I know it got toasted due to the sh*tty power situation). So we are suddenly trying to figure
out a way to run his bass through the PA solely. All of this gets the singer-songwriter going again, "This isn't f*****g
worth all the hassle."

This time I am less able to calm him down and he literally starts tearing his s**t down.

We are going to die! We are all going to die!

The entire time he is tearing his gear down I am talking to him. "We have to see this through. They are expecting us
to play now. You can't just leave and then not put us all in danger."

I am practically begging him to reconsider.

He does. He puts his s**t back on the stage. We fire up, figure out a way to get the bass player's guitar through the
PA, and for the rest of the night when he plays a note the lights on the stage dim and flicker. We expect everything to
fail at any moment. Fun way to play the gig. :)

We actually make it through our sets, the singer seems to get into it a little (after some massaging with marijuana in the
Motorhome!!) and we end the night with the only issue being the generator running out of gas mid song. Not our fault!! :)

By the end of it everyone is ready to pack the f**k up and get out of there!! All except Tom the bass player who is still
going to spend the night here. :( I mean, he has the Motorhome.

During teardown the drummer slips on the steps leading off the pavilion stage, and later tells me that he broke his
wrist when he fell.

The singer-songwriter and drummer leave. Tom and I stay in the Motorhome, don't mingle with the crowd, and inside his
Motorhome listen to round after round of gunfire, loud voices, and visions of our impending death. Alcohol and a stray
bullet. What a way to go??

I don't sleep. At the crack of dawn the Club is still partying. I go outside to what looks like a warzone, people are passed out
around the massive firepit with ash from the bonfire on them, and I am waking Tom up to get the f**k out of here.

Tom's like, "I slept great. Wanna stop and get breakfast somewhere."

Sure, Tom. Sure. :)
Holy Hell.

We have a winner.
 
Longest post ever. My bad. :LOL:


From around 2004 to 2016 I was hooked up with a booking agency that used to book bands I was
in, and also occasionally book me to support/back-up touring artists and local singer-songwriters. I
had a couple of sketchy gigs, but nothing like the one I am about to share. It was a hodge-podge band
thrown together to support a Roots/Americana/Blues singer who also played a Harmonica. I had played
with him before. He was fairly easy to work with, and fun. Not a lot of complicated material, and since he
strummed an acoustic and played harp I didn't have to carry many songs and could just fill and noodle.
I enjoyed the previous times I played with him, and was looking forward to this outdoor party that the
agency booked him for.

I spoke with the bass player for the gig (who was also paid to bring PA and run sound) a week or so beforehand.
He told me about this Motorhome he had and if I wanted to meet up and ride with him. He said rather than
drive home after the gig he was going to spend the night in his Motorhome and then drive back the next day.
"Hey, it's Summer!" I thought. This will be fun.

It was 70 miles south to the gig, and he lived on the way there, so I went to his place and loaded all of our gear
(and the PA) into the Motorhome. The PA was not the best and knowing "outdoor" gigs tend to require more
power/wattage I was kind of concerned. Too late to look back now so I knew we had to roll with it. My suspicions
were confirmed when "Tom" told me that he told the agency he would also haul the PA and run sound for an extra
$100.

Ok.

So we roll south on two lane highway and ask him if he knows where he is going. He says, "I kind of know where it
is at." Comforting. Another reason I seldom ride with other's at the last minute.

He has some scribbled directions on a piece of paper and NO ADDRESS. None! He says, "I guess it is just in the woods
someplace." So over the hill after the Big Oak tree on the left we turn right down a sandy road. In a Motorhome. He
says there are "supposed to be signs." I can't tell you how many times I thought that Motorhome with the dualies in
the back was gonna bury itself in the sand. It must have been 5 miles to the West of "we aren't gonna make it."

Somehow we did, though. We found the signs, and also a bunch of Harleys. We found the entrance to a piece of property
owned by a notorious and legendary Biker Gang. A conveniently concealed fact that the agency told none of us about,
as we would all find out later.

Tom and I were the first to arrive. The two-track trail leading back into the woods was NOT made for a Motorhome.
There were people all along that trail with their bikes and tents pitched in openings. There were burned out and
shot up old cars and trucks. Even a trailer or two that came there to die.

We still gonna spend the night, Tom? ;)

We get back in the woods with the Motorhome and see an opening, a partially covered stage, and a few outbuildings
were people are BBQ'ing and making food. Ok, maybe this won't be so bad. We park, get out, and go look for someone
in charge to tell them "We are the band." As if it is not already obvious.

We see this rather large man with a shaved head commanding what looks to be the "bar." We go up and introduce
ourselves, as I notice that he has swastikas tattooe'd on him and is wearing a T-shirt with Hitler on it.

So, where's the food?

Actually, I am queasy to my stomach. I am obviously not going to confront anyone surrounded by their "family" and
in their 'playground." This gig is going to SUCK!!!

In spite of his attire he is friendly enough and tells us to help ourselves to the food. Yells to someone to help us with
power to the stage, by calling out someone who has a "nickname." Everyone here has a nickname, I find out. He puts
a wristband on us (how professional!) and tells us to "have fun."

By this time the drummer and singer-songwriter show up. The singer-songwriter is PISSED THE f**k OFF! I can tell.
I am trying to hush him up. He just wants to leave. "f**k this s**t!" He is purposely talking loud and I am afraid the
folks in the Bike Club are going to overhear him. I also have the thought that, "People have died here. People have
never left here."

Since I have played a few shows supporting him, and he seems to like me, I am able to get him to calm down, I tell him,
"Hey, we came all this way, and I don't think we are just leaving without a fight (or some repercussions), so let's just do your
show, get paid, and leave."

He agrees. So we set up on this pavilion with bouncy plywood that looks like it has been there for 30 years with all
the wear and tear that being outside brings. There is a generator about 200 feet behind the stage that the dude with
the nickname (again, the all have nicknames like "Ace" and "Spike" and "Bulldog") puts some gas into and fires up
so we can get some power and do a soundcheck. There is a single extension cord running from the generator to the
stage and it is supposed to power an entire PA, and our guitar and bass amps. I just cross my fingers.

We get all set up and have an hour to soundcheck before we play. The bass player's amp immediately takes a s**t.
No sound. Nothing. (Now I know it got toasted due to the sh*tty power situation). So we are suddenly trying to figure
out a way to run his bass through the PA solely. All of this gets the singer-songwriter going again, "This isn't f*****g
worth all the hassle."

This time I am less able to calm him down and he literally starts tearing his s**t down.

We are going to die! We are all going to die!

The entire time he is tearing his gear down I am talking to him. "We have to see this through. They are expecting us
to play now. You can't just leave and then not put us all in danger."

I am practically begging him to reconsider.

He does. He puts his s**t back on the stage. We fire up, figure out a way to get the bass player's guitar through the
PA, and for the rest of the night when he plays a note the lights on the stage dim and flicker. We expect everything to
fail at any moment. Fun way to play the gig. :)

We actually make it through our sets, the singer seems to get into it a little (after some massaging with marijuana in the
Motorhome!!) and we end the night with the only issue being the generator running out of gas mid song. Not our fault!! :)

By the end of it everyone is ready to pack the f**k up and get out of there!! All except Tom the bass player who is still
going to spend the night here. :( I mean, he has the Motorhome.

During teardown the drummer slips on the steps leading off the pavilion stage, and later tells me that he broke his
wrist when he fell.

The singer-songwriter and drummer leave. Tom and I stay in the Motorhome, don't mingle with the crowd, and inside his
Motorhome listen to round after round of gunfire, loud voices, and visions of our impending death. Alcohol and a stray
bullet. What a way to go??

I don't sleep. At the crack of dawn the Club is still partying. I go outside to what looks like a warzone, people are passed out
around the massive firepit with ash from the bonfire on them, and I am waking Tom up to get the f**k out of here.

Tom's like, "I slept great. Wanna stop and get breakfast somewhere."

Sure, Tom. Sure. :)

Oh dude, I didn’t know you gigged in Maine!!

That sounds nearly word for word our experience in high school playing at what was presented to us as “Beerfest ‘99, they’re going to have a pig roast!”, even getting to the place, which was off the road that was off the road that was off the road that was by the left turn by the lake but not past the Old Man tree, bout 200 yards down from where Bob fell down the mountain that one time…

We finally pull in and see bikes everywhere, I look over and see a Saracens patch on the back of a vest and gulped. Fortunately(?), my stepfather grew up with a bunch of them and after a few of them found out who I was they treated us like gold.

That pig roast was something else; they pulled up the lid and just told people to come and get it, no utensils, no one carving it up, people were breaking bones out of it and using them to tear the meat up. It was one of the most primal things I’ve ever witnessed in my life. Hahahaha by that point, growing up in Maine, you get kind of used to drunk people firing guns in the woods, well, I was, my buddies weren’t. We started “For Whom The Bell Tolls” and every Da da da da DAAAAAAA, a dude would fire a shotgun and my buddies almost flew off the stage to duck for cover. :rofl

Hahahahah that’s the night they both learned what an ‘oulie’ was when someone asked if they wanted to go smoke one, they thought it was just a joint, it felt like the scene in Almost Famous where the mom tells her son “Don’t do drugs!” as I yelled to them while they walked away “That’s crack and weed, don’t smoke it!!!” :ROFLMAO:
 
@la szum I wanted to react with laughing, crying, terror, sweating and everything else emojis. Wow. What a story!

I definitely needed an hug once or twice during that experience. :LOL:

I have another playing for a Bike Club (ak Gang!) gig story where they all laughed
and made us play 2 more hours beyond our scheduled time just because they could.

Go to get paid, "Oh, you guys aren't quite done just yet."

gang motorcycles GIF by South Park


So we did. :rawk
 
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