Musicians check in here. If you play, tell us about it!
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I spent the better part of the day listening to my "Stax Box" Amazon.com: The Complete Stax/Volt Singles: 1959-1968: Various Artists: Music
RIP Duck, he was one of the few founders that shaped what it means to be an electric bassist.
RIP Duck, he was one of the few founders that shaped what it means to be an electric bassist.
The Blues Brothers movie will always be in my Top Ten of all time. I still watch it when I catch it on TV. The BB movie reminds me so much of my early associations with forming my first band, riding around looking for the right guys, auditioning people, and working on getting those first gigs. We played some dives that resembled some of the BB gigs in my time. Those were funny to watch.
A good bassist is the heart of a good band. The bassist and the drummer need to be in close lockstep. That gives you a foundation for the rest of the group to settle into. If you go back and listen to Booker T and the MG's, you hear those little dead air moments between notes in the mix that make a tight band.
A good bassist is the heart of a good band. The bassist and the drummer need to be in close lockstep. That gives you a foundation for the rest of the group to settle into. If you go back and listen to Booker T and the MG's, you hear those little dead air moments between notes in the mix that make a tight band.
Well hell. This new band is coming along. I play my acoustic guitar for about 3/4 of the music. we were rehearsing wed night and I played the acoustic for almost 4 hrs. I noticed my arm was getting tender. this is my fender sonoran. I look at road rash on my arm... hmm. I get home and cleaning the guitar I noticed the binding had about a 2 inch area was a little rough. never noticed that before. it was carving my arm pretty good. it was very hot in the garage to boot, so didn't help. I ended up having to take sand paper to the guitar.
haha ya loved the blues brothers. I remember back when we got a new agent, and he tested us out on a B circuit. we played this club in Creston, BC. it was like a scene from a bad movie. the dance floor was cracked cement, walls at odd angles (sound was horrid and we heard reflections from all over). we entered the club early daytime to setup for our 2 or 3 day gig, and this heavy older native lady is sitting at the bench by the front door beside an older native man. she says something to me on entering. I say pardon me? comes back with, say good looking how about a quickie, I need to support me and my hubby. oh boy,what have they sent us into.... I declined and went to the bar.
we were given a key to our "room" and told go outside around the side of the building and the door to our room is there. well it's an old door into the basement. we went in, omg this was a cellar basically. a sign on the wall hand written by I imagine the last band, says "beware of unwanted guests". we assumed rats and such. nope, the locals know where the band stays and being an outside door, well ya. not much sleep in that town. sure was surreal. being a musician and gigging sure isn't the glamour some expect it to be LOL, but it's a memory that is still as vivid today as the day it happened. "shay good looking" haha never will I forget that.
haha ya loved the blues brothers. I remember back when we got a new agent, and he tested us out on a B circuit. we played this club in Creston, BC. it was like a scene from a bad movie. the dance floor was cracked cement, walls at odd angles (sound was horrid and we heard reflections from all over). we entered the club early daytime to setup for our 2 or 3 day gig, and this heavy older native lady is sitting at the bench by the front door beside an older native man. she says something to me on entering. I say pardon me? comes back with, say good looking how about a quickie, I need to support me and my hubby. oh boy,what have they sent us into.... I declined and went to the bar.
we were given a key to our "room" and told go outside around the side of the building and the door to our room is there. well it's an old door into the basement. we went in, omg this was a cellar basically. a sign on the wall hand written by I imagine the last band, says "beware of unwanted guests". we assumed rats and such. nope, the locals know where the band stays and being an outside door, well ya. not much sleep in that town. sure was surreal. being a musician and gigging sure isn't the glamour some expect it to be LOL, but it's a memory that is still as vivid today as the day it happened. "shay good looking" haha never will I forget that.
If you don't have a story like that, you haven't gigged! I bet a sub thread on "my worst gig" would be interesting.
oh ya. and that wasn't the worst 
... just very memorable. it's those "interesting" times that actually make me want to go gigging again. the money isn't even a big deal to me. I just miss the fun we had.
... just very memorable. it's those "interesting" times that actually make me want to go gigging again. the money isn't even a big deal to me. I just miss the fun we had.
Worst gig....hard to gauge that because things can be both good and bad.
I rather believe you enjoyed that one in your story on some level Pipeous. I probably would have at one time. Maybe even now!
One of my least favorites was just after moving to Los Angeles with a trio in '79 to become "discovered".
We quickly landed a gig at an upscale pizza joint in Van Nuys 5 nights a week for $50 each a night cash.
That's about $1K a month which in '79 was great considering my studio apartment cost $250 a month.
Come to think of it, adjusted for inflation and after taxes, I'm getting paid less than that now...but the tips are a whole lot better!
We played mostly originals back then and I knew the audience (mostly over 30 crowed) hated us!
Fortunately or unfortunately the management loved us. I got into the bad habit of looking at the ground or anyplace other than the audience it was so uncomfortable for me. I was just dying to get in front of an appreciative audience. I finally got my wish but the money ended. There was no money to be made playing at the Troubadour in the '80s or any of the other dozen "pay to play" venues that cropped up then. We weren't the only new band in town trying to get discovered as it turned out.
One night at the sister restaurant over in Century City an old couple came up to my end of the stage and the wife says to me. "You know our son is a musician also. He'd really like you guys. Have you heard of Jeffery Baxter? He's our son!".
That was precious. They were so proud and so grandma/grandpa looking like straight out a Norman Rockwell painting.
I rather believe you enjoyed that one in your story on some level Pipeous. I probably would have at one time. Maybe even now!
One of my least favorites was just after moving to Los Angeles with a trio in '79 to become "discovered".
We quickly landed a gig at an upscale pizza joint in Van Nuys 5 nights a week for $50 each a night cash.
That's about $1K a month which in '79 was great considering my studio apartment cost $250 a month.
Come to think of it, adjusted for inflation and after taxes, I'm getting paid less than that now...but the tips are a whole lot better!
We played mostly originals back then and I knew the audience (mostly over 30 crowed) hated us!
Fortunately or unfortunately the management loved us. I got into the bad habit of looking at the ground or anyplace other than the audience it was so uncomfortable for me. I was just dying to get in front of an appreciative audience. I finally got my wish but the money ended. There was no money to be made playing at the Troubadour in the '80s or any of the other dozen "pay to play" venues that cropped up then. We weren't the only new band in town trying to get discovered as it turned out.
One night at the sister restaurant over in Century City an old couple came up to my end of the stage and the wife says to me. "You know our son is a musician also. He'd really like you guys. Have you heard of Jeffery Baxter? He's our son!".
That was precious. They were so proud and so grandma/grandpa looking like straight out a Norman Rockwell painting.
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I have a personal "Duck" Dunn story too but I can't bring myself to tell it. It's not an amusing story to me now. Suffice it to say that I met the man, spent some time with him and liked him very much.
That's about the gist of it anyway.
That's about the gist of it anyway.
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Coming in contact with musicians who went on to achieve fame is something that you don't appreciate until years later. Yesterday on the CBS morning show, they had Greg Allman as a guest. Greg was always the quiet brother and while he didn't come across as a strong interviewer, he told the story about 11 times in rehab where he always went in with the attitude that he would play their game and then get on with his life. Then, he talked about his liver transplant and how it made him realize how fragile life really was. That was the point where he did something for himself and not for others and got off the drugs.
Greg always lived in the shadow of Duane. Duane was the outgoing extrovert who had life and vitality spilling out all over. He was the ultimate front man. He was the guy who could relate to everyone and keep a radio disc jockey on his toes during an interview. I wasn't close friends with those guys, but got to spend some time playing in the same club for a while before they got famous and spent most of their time on the road.
Our group, as teenagers played a lot of teenage haunts where beer was out in the car and people made frequent trips back and forth. We did a lot of college frat parties. As I got older, we found that the money was made playing for adults who had the funds to write a big check!
Golf and Country clubs were soon our targets. We found out that the money was where the high rollers hung out. Playing country clubs got us exposed to people who would pay $500 (in the 70s) for a 3-4 hour gig that included a lavish buffet style party with an open bar and exposure to more people who could fork out cash for a band. The people at those parties hired us for more parties and it soon turned into a profitable venture. In 1973, I was making $125 a week for 40 hours at work and $75 to $100 on the weekends. By the 80's, we were each getting $100 - $150 a night apiece on the average playing gigs on Friday and Saturday. We got $3000 on New Year's Eve at the local AFB Officer's Club. It was a standing gig on NY eve as long as we played one weekend a month in the bar to maintain contact. I always looked at that weekend as a sleeper. It took little energy, but was enjoyable and led to more private parties that paid well.
These days, the same band that reformed under the drummer with new people is getting around $3000 a night with 6 players! The drummer called me when he reformed, but I declined. I'm good these days playing the church gig and practicing on Monday night. Gigging is a young man's pastime. I'm not into crawling into bed at 4am anymore!
Greg always lived in the shadow of Duane. Duane was the outgoing extrovert who had life and vitality spilling out all over. He was the ultimate front man. He was the guy who could relate to everyone and keep a radio disc jockey on his toes during an interview. I wasn't close friends with those guys, but got to spend some time playing in the same club for a while before they got famous and spent most of their time on the road.
Our group, as teenagers played a lot of teenage haunts where beer was out in the car and people made frequent trips back and forth. We did a lot of college frat parties. As I got older, we found that the money was made playing for adults who had the funds to write a big check!
Golf and Country clubs were soon our targets. We found out that the money was where the high rollers hung out. Playing country clubs got us exposed to people who would pay $500 (in the 70s) for a 3-4 hour gig that included a lavish buffet style party with an open bar and exposure to more people who could fork out cash for a band. The people at those parties hired us for more parties and it soon turned into a profitable venture. In 1973, I was making $125 a week for 40 hours at work and $75 to $100 on the weekends. By the 80's, we were each getting $100 - $150 a night apiece on the average playing gigs on Friday and Saturday. We got $3000 on New Year's Eve at the local AFB Officer's Club. It was a standing gig on NY eve as long as we played one weekend a month in the bar to maintain contact. I always looked at that weekend as a sleeper. It took little energy, but was enjoyable and led to more private parties that paid well.
These days, the same band that reformed under the drummer with new people is getting around $3000 a night with 6 players! The drummer called me when he reformed, but I declined. I'm good these days playing the church gig and practicing on Monday night. Gigging is a young man's pastime. I'm not into crawling into bed at 4am anymore!
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My worst gig story is really an after gig story. We played at a GA College frat party. I was 16. On the way home, it was me and the drummer in a Ford Econoline station wagon with gear from the tail all the way up to the front seat. The rest of the guys had to drive their own cars. We ran out of gas about 10 miles from the nearest town. It was a 30 degree night. We ran the heater fan until it got cold and then wrapped up in padded blankets we took off the equipment. Then we dozed off.
About 7:00 in the morning we heard a horn blowing. It was a guy in a truck that pulled up next to us. We rolled down the window and asked us if he could help. He took us down to a little store with one gas pump. The owner washed out a large gallon pickle jar and we bought a gallon of gas. The guy drove us back to our station wagon, we poured in the gas, and went back to the station to get some more.
When we got home, our parents had called the police to look out for us! That was the days when cell phones weren't even thought of yet ...
About 7:00 in the morning we heard a horn blowing. It was a guy in a truck that pulled up next to us. We rolled down the window and asked us if he could help. He took us down to a little store with one gas pump. The owner washed out a large gallon pickle jar and we bought a gallon of gas. The guy drove us back to our station wagon, we poured in the gas, and went back to the station to get some more.
When we got home, our parents had called the police to look out for us! That was the days when cell phones weren't even thought of yet ...
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Here's a fuzzy photo of my band playing just such a gig at pro-golfer Jerry Heard's house in '74.
That's me, far left, playing a '64 Fender Jazz bass. Yeah, baby. Wish I still had that. It was stolen.
I don't remember how much we got paid but it must have been good.
The drummer still has those Altec A7 speakers.
worst gig for me was more about being embarrassed. the grand forks hotel. my mother had made a big batch of baked beans. I went for a visit and ate tons. so good. well we got to the gig and first set was started. I couldn't help letting a fart go... I was on the right side of the stage (playing bass) rythm guitar player to my right, lead singer to my left, lead player, then the keyboardist. Art, beside me notices the smell first and runs across the stage to stand by the keyboardist... then the lead singer screws her face and runs across, she was gagging while singing... then the lead player did the same. the drummer had a fan mounted to blow air to his face and he was trying to kick the fan off... man the whole band was opposite side of the stage, then the dance floor cleared....
we had to end the song and open the doors to air the place out. and ya everyone in the place knew who did it. bet I was purple from embarrassment
we had to end the song and open the doors to air the place out. and ya everyone in the place knew who did it. bet I was purple from embarrassment
Worst gig for me would violate about a dozen of the TOS rules if I described it. Suffice it to say, my house burned down that night with me unconscious in it. I would have died if not for the small explosion in the next room when the fire engulfed the electrical box. I lost everything that night and nearly died. It was a major bummer.
Great story, Pipeous! It's pretty bad when you clear the dance floor! You could be a bouncer with sound effects.
"Alright, everybody outside ... now! RIIIIIPPPPPP!"
It gives new meaning to the phrase "Tear gas".
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I have more but want to see other people's.
I'll share this one, not bad for me but scared the band. we were playing in a well known bar in castlegar. I had been teaching our light man, Dave again, to play bass. we played an easy song, Greg Khin, break up song (we all know that one right?). well Dave had never been on stage yet. and I am doing the introduction over mic. Introduce Dave and say, well he's going to come up and play a song for you guys... oh man the band was mad at me haha. what are you doing, we've never even practiced this with him... trust me, he'll be fine... does he know it, sure...
I stepped down and ran the lights. it was so awesome to see him up there playing. he had so much fun, the crowd went nuts after for him... the band freaked on me after the gig and I just said, come on, he works for peanuts and busts his .... always. we gave him a couple minutes of something to remember and he felt more a part of the band than he ever did before...
he eventually became our sound engineer as he learned from the guys we hired to do the job. that wasn't a bad story but sure one of the fondest I have in all my gigging.
I'll share this one, not bad for me but scared the band. we were playing in a well known bar in castlegar. I had been teaching our light man, Dave again, to play bass. we played an easy song, Greg Khin, break up song (we all know that one right?). well Dave had never been on stage yet. and I am doing the introduction over mic. Introduce Dave and say, well he's going to come up and play a song for you guys... oh man the band was mad at me haha. what are you doing, we've never even practiced this with him... trust me, he'll be fine... does he know it, sure...
I stepped down and ran the lights. it was so awesome to see him up there playing. he had so much fun, the crowd went nuts after for him... the band freaked on me after the gig and I just said, come on, he works for peanuts and busts his .... always. we gave him a couple minutes of something to remember and he felt more a part of the band than he ever did before...
he eventually became our sound engineer as he learned from the guys we hired to do the job. that wasn't a bad story but sure one of the fondest I have in all my gigging.
Back around '69 in my (then) small home town of Visalia CA bands would get a couple of big flatbed trailers, wheel them into the local city park to be used as a stage and hold outdoor concerts in the summer. These bands were GOOD! For some reason the area spawned a bunch of good musicians for being such a back-water, area hundreds of miles from L.A. or SanFran.
I had helped form a band which had guitar, bass, sax, trumpet, drums, percussion, and organ. We had been rehearsing and I was really excited to be playing the style of music. I must have been about 16. That one summer in '69 we got invited to play in the park opening up for "the big guys". I was really excited at first but when I saw all of my local hero musicians hanging around, I got major cold feet. I told the guys I wouldn't be getting up on that stage. The sax player, about 2/3 my size, told me if I didn't get up there and play he was going to kick my ... and he looked like he meant it.
I got up and played with the worst case of stage-fright imaginable. I was spitting-cotton. I played it the way we rehearsed it and it was all over before I realized it. When I got off the stage I got sincere compliments and encouragement from the older musicians, especially one bass player in particular that really mattered.
I haven't had a case of stage-fright since. A few butterflies maybe but not fear.
I had helped form a band which had guitar, bass, sax, trumpet, drums, percussion, and organ. We had been rehearsing and I was really excited to be playing the style of music. I must have been about 16. That one summer in '69 we got invited to play in the park opening up for "the big guys". I was really excited at first but when I saw all of my local hero musicians hanging around, I got major cold feet. I told the guys I wouldn't be getting up on that stage. The sax player, about 2/3 my size, told me if I didn't get up there and play he was going to kick my ... and he looked like he meant it.
I got up and played with the worst case of stage-fright imaginable. I was spitting-cotton. I played it the way we rehearsed it and it was all over before I realized it. When I got off the stage I got sincere compliments and encouragement from the older musicians, especially one bass player in particular that really mattered.
I haven't had a case of stage-fright since. A few butterflies maybe but not fear.
My first gig was in front of my Mother's little neighborhood coffee klatch. They met at different homes on Tuesday mornings for coffee, sweets, and to catch up on the neighborhood gossip. They decided to have an annual dinner at a local restaurant and invited us to play for free. I got through that one just fine. We played Ventures instrumentals.
The one that struck me with cold ice water in my veins was a concert that our Boy Scout troop put on at a local gymnasium/meeting arena. They invited the community and charged them a couple of bucks a head to see a talent show consisting of bands made up from our Boy Scout troop, along with a couple of comedy acts and skits put on by the scoutmasters. I was fine until I walked out on the stage and realized that there really were about 500 people, most of which I could see staring at me around the edges of a spotlight!
I shivered and shook and nervously managed to get through singing, "Ticket to Ride" by the Beatles. I was backed up by two other guitar players in my "band" and a drummer from another band who graciously stepped out to play behind us. When we got off stage I was both thrilled and in a cold sweat!
That was when I knew that I wanted to do that some more. It became a 25 year weekend gig.
The one that struck me with cold ice water in my veins was a concert that our Boy Scout troop put on at a local gymnasium/meeting arena. They invited the community and charged them a couple of bucks a head to see a talent show consisting of bands made up from our Boy Scout troop, along with a couple of comedy acts and skits put on by the scoutmasters. I was fine until I walked out on the stage and realized that there really were about 500 people, most of which I could see staring at me around the edges of a spotlight!
I shivered and shook and nervously managed to get through singing, "Ticket to Ride" by the Beatles. I was backed up by two other guitar players in my "band" and a drummer from another band who graciously stepped out to play behind us. When we got off stage I was both thrilled and in a cold sweat!
That was when I knew that I wanted to do that some more. It became a 25 year weekend gig.
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