We had heard it would be great exposure for the band if we did a Benefit. Zero money for it, but since we had zero gigs booked, we jumped at the opportunity to get some exposure. It was a Benefit for a local boy with an affliction that no one knew how to pronounce – everyone was calling it the ‘allergic to everything’ disease. We were psyched to get involved. This Benefit was at a popular regional bar and it was being held on a Saturday in the middle of the summer.
A couple of days before the event, we learned there were several other bands participating –nine more… kind of bummed by that, but we would be the last to perform. That was exciting – we were finishing the night! We were the headliner! The hype from our previous job was spilling over into bigger and better things – we were a rock band on its way!
Then we heard the first band started at noon, and our time slot was one… a.m. I was getting the impression this whole affair was slapped together in 3 days.
“You in a band? You are? Sure – come on down!”
“What time do you want to start? No problem – come on down – we’ll get youse in there!”
It turned out to be more like multiple ‘jam sessions’ with guys who barely knew how to play. One band had 11 people milling around onstage: 3 were on guitar and there was a guy walking around in circles banging a tambourine. Most songs were unrecognizable. By the time we went on stage, people were slap happy – including the club owner. I think we got to rock out two songs. No one noticed: everyone was absolutely slobberknockered. The club owner stumbled on stage and asked me to announce the winners of the evening’s prize drawings, including a ten dollar gift certificate to Geronimo’s Tattoo Parlor. TEN WHOLE DOLLARS! What sort of tattoo can you get for ten dollars? The club owner was feeling generous that night, as he pulled a clock off the wall for another drawing. Then he yanked a picture down for another and finally, he unplugged a lamp from behind the bar. I looked around and it was clear he was running out of furniture. Thankfully it was last call for alcohol. I was surprised there was any left. We were hoping to get some notoriety and name recognition for participating in this worthy cause, but were fairly certain nobody remembered anything at all the next day. It was time to get a paying gig.
Within weeks, we hooked up with a real agent. Buddy Cook was the agent all the bands wanted to be associated with – he was the dude who got bands gigs. Soon enough he hooked us up with a weekend gig in Philadelphia at a place called the Porpoise Pub. We thought things were really happening now!
As I walked in that Friday with my equipment, I couldn’t believe my eyes… The stage was a 5 foot by 15 foot RUBBER MAT. We knew right away we wouldn’t be using our own sound system – our speakers couldn’t fit in the door. There was a ‘house sound system’, so we had to take our chances with that. The rubber mat (stage) was situated on one side of ‘the dance floor’… a checkerboard pattern of wacky colored lights. The ENTIRE floor. So were the walls. And the ceiling. Not so bad, I guess… it was bizarre yet colorful – it would be fun. The ‘stage’ was a little tight, but what the heck -we’d muddle through– we were getting money for this gig!!
As we set up our stuff, I heard disco music through the house sound system. I looked around in the dimly lit Pub and noticed there were a few girls dancing on the bar … in their underwear. What were they doing? Were they drunk? I’m pretty sure it was still light outside, how could they be drunk already … No, good lord – this was a titty bar! They were wearing tassles! I then learned we would start when the girls’ ‘set’ was done. Just great. My parents would be so proud of me. The thousands of dollars of piano lessons, all the rehearsing – refining our material — and look at me now- I’m in showbiz! So when the girls finished up their set, we did ours, and that’s how the night went – we alternated with go-go dancers…
The Pub patrons were mostly middle aged men…and women. I am still trying to figure out what kind of woman goes to a go go bar for a night out on the town. They were a happy lot, and most of them not sober. Since the ‘stage’ was adjacent to the dance floor, my mic stand was constantly getting bumped by dancers, but at least they had their clothes on. Fueled by the music and the liquor, these folks became maniacal as the night wore on. With those mesmerizing lights everywhere, programmed to do this checkerboard-style flashing thing—they were stomping on the boxes when they lit up like some sort of game, as if they were trying to stomp on a bug. The band was irrelevant – we could have played Mary Had A Little Lamb; as long as there were drums, they were good – we were background music to their stomp the bug light game.
I soon learned this type of stage setup was downright hazardous. You had to learn to protect yourself and your equipment – holding onto it all when you saw a drunky drunk lurching your way. I was stationary the whole night, hunkered in with my mic stand– there was no moving around or I’d lose a tooth.
As the night was winding down, one of the guys in the band took a shining to one of the dancers, noting how she liked to bend way down in his face and show him the red welts on her duff. He got all of that enchantment for a dollar. This place was interesting and revolting at the same time. Strange place, stranger people and the strangest dance floor –ever. This isn’t what I was envisioning for my career as a future rock star, but they paid us very well that weekend …it was sleazy money.
theclubsinger 