theclubsinger

Finally, I was on top of the world: all that practicing and rehearsing paid off — I was the lead singer in a rock band, working the circuit and doing a lot of gigs – some up to five nights a week. I was singing Pat Benatar stuff, Heart, Pretenders, Joan Jett, Quarterflash (remember them?) … my gig wardrobe was expansive and outrageous … life was pretty darned good.

The band seemed to be getting a lot of repeat work, which although flattering, was starting to get monotonous. The Station Tavern, our local regular spot, was becoming a chore. The same people came to see us, we’d have the same conversations, they’d request the same songs, they danced to the same stuff, the same way ….  I started to wonder about the next step for the band: where were the big money gigs or new opportunities?  When was ‘that guy’ going to walk in and discover us?

‘That guy’, I envisioned, would be an out of towner: some cool dude in a charcoal or black suit – no tie, but definitely put together – a real standout. He would be either from a record label or talent agency. I was expecting him at any moment to come into the club, bar or restaurant: his eyes would fixate on me, becoming awestruck as he found himself discovering pure genius at work.  He would then be waiting at the side of the stage to give me his card and inform me that I should prepare for superstardom.

Anyway, ‘that guy’ wasn’t going to stroll into the Station Tavern, that’s for sure.

Out of the blue, we got a call to do a job at the Crystal Bowl, an area Bowling institution.  Yes, that’s right: bowling. As in ten pins and a ball… with a liquor license.  Upon hearing this latest booking, I groaned. What was happening here? This wasn’t the road to glory I had imagined for myself.  The guys insisted it was a ‘step up’, claiming it was a place where ‘everyone played’ and the money was really good.  I guess the money thing was the reason I said I was in.  What the heck – it was somewhere different, and it could be just the place where ‘that guy’ would walk in and discover me.

So the Crystal Bowl was indeed a bowling alley. The place was huge – a great expanse of lanes that brought bowlers out from around the region. There was a fooderie of some type – their big seller was nachos and cheese. That’s all I smelled. Well, mostly.  Somehow they had an advertising budget highlighting their nightclub – I spotted an ad in an area College newspaper: CRYSTAL BOWL featuring Live “Rock” music.  I wondered why they put quotations around the word ‘Rock’. We don’t really mean Rock per se … The ad also highlighted some of the other festivities offered, including ‘Pitcher Beer Night’, and most notably, an ‘Eat The Worm Contest’.

Upon arrival, I was somewhat relieved to see that at least they had a bar with a wall separating us from the alley, as initially I was envisioning there would be a stage along side of the lanes, and we would be background music to the bowlers.  Based on the size of the room, however, the nightclub seemed like an afterthought.  Having a wall to separate the bar from the bowling alley helped, though, because those balls made a lot of racket. So did the people hurling them.  Many of them apparently hit the bar before hand.  They were rowdy and loud.  It was becoming evident that the real party was on the other side of the wall.

As I walked around to scope out the club, I noted how I didn’t see a stage anywhere. “Where’s the stage? Hey guys – there’s no stage here, you know.”  Then Slim points to behind the bar – “yes, uh huh – look! It’s behind the bar! HeeHee Heehee Heehee ah ha HeeHee HeeHee HeeHee!!!!!!”

 Yep – I wasn’t chuckling. Again.  Another miniature stage to deal with, yet this one was behind the bar – in a bowling alley. It was on risers, but geez, it was behind the bar!  The bartenders were the stars of this place. All their drink specials, magical elixirs, contests …  I was having trouble with this one.  What was happening to my career?  A freaking bowling alley?!  Nothing against bowling or anything, but it’s not a typical route to rock stardom. Ugh.  I predicted a very long night.

Even with their ‘Taquilla Shooters’ (yes, that’s how they spelled it) and the ‘Eat The Worm’ fun and games, this was, yet again, not a place for our type of band.   I don’t think music was really the focal point of this establishment.  Based on the number of people that were plastered before we even started, I believe alcohol was the main event at this joint, closely followed by bowling.

As we started our first set, hand signals by the bartenders started flying wildly our way:  we were too loud.  Hands over their ears, squinting, and mouthing the words ‘turn it down’ after just five minutes, we soon learned that volume, or too much of it, was serious business here.  It was absolutely essential that we keep the sound down because the BOWLERS COMPLAINED.  Since it was a bowling alley, we had to defer to their rules. Once again, our front stacks were off and the only sound emanating from the stage was via our stage monitors and equipment amplifiers. Nothing like doing a Judas Priest song, hearing the cracking of the strikes and spares through the walls, louder than us…

Just ridiculous, I thought.  Why even bother having a “Rock Band” play “Rock Music”??  I couldn’t even sing normally – I’d be too loud. I opted for a quasi-falsetto …harkening back to my semi-operatic techniques I learned from Anna Maria Lochetto, this night was becoming stupefyingly lame. I now understood the “quotations” in the ad.  It’s “almost” rock music – not quite:  if you listen real close, you might hear it – over the freaking bowlers!  No one was dancing here; they were unable to walk. There was professional drinking going on here, by golly.   Oh, occasionally a patron would stumble to the restroom, but that was a major undertaking and by the time they returned, they had worked up a great thirst.

In between sets, the band typically attempted to ‘make the rounds’;  engage the crowd and work on building a following. I noticed that all that Pitcher Beer swilling, Taquilla contests and worm eating had taken its toll: with our rockin’ lullabies we were doing, this crowd was really dopey and sleepy.  We all made valiant efforts to mingle with completely incoherent people.  Many of them had their heads resting comfortably on the bar. I noticed people splayed out along the walls, unable to move.  Someone was snoring in a corner. The winning worm eater sent me a semi incoherent note via his semi sober messenger, requesting my presence for a chat.  He drew a diagram on his cocktail napkin pinpointing his location at the bar.  I passed.

The night couldn’t end fast enough for all of us.  We were ticked we were even there, let alone all that sound equipment we had to lug in for the gig– and the bowling balls on the other side of the wall were still louder than us!  What a night.  Finally it was last call, and I quickly announced, ‘Thank you everybody, have a good night and drive home safe!’  The somber heads on the bar jolted up: “Haaaaay!  Nooooooo!  Come onnnnnnn!! Do some more!”

Say what?!

 Didn’t they have homes?

  Did the worms just kick in?

Our jaws jointly dropped in disbelief, muttering a collective  ‘yeah, right’…  I don’t know, but this gig, the audience – all of it — really pissed me off. ‘That guy’ in the suit definitely wasn’t showing up here, and I just had enough of these lame bunch of bored, boozers. I flipped on my microphone and blurted ‘look – I’m tired and so are you!  Good night!’

 I guess it was the first time I saw an audience in that way. Definitely the first time I insulted an audience – actually, the only time, really.   They were tired!  They were boring!  Did we suck?  I don’t think so. It was tough to compete with ‘Taquilla’, cheap and plentiful beer, and worms. Maybe if we had the opportunity to pummel them with some volume we could have jolted them out of their stupors, I don’t know.

But they sure likied all that booze. They were a worm-eating, pitcher swillin’ bunch of folks who liked to take a nap at a bar. I didn’t get it. After my insult, I turned around and started to gather up my percussion equipment, shaking my head, thinking ‘if you’re going to sleep, why not just go home? Why go to a bar, pay money for drinks and then go to sleep – in public? How can you even fall asleep in public? Why didn’t someone wake up the dude who was snoring?  Man, our “rock” music couldn’t even wake him up!  Who ever thought to put a worm in a bottle of booze?  What kind of worm was that and why on earth were they eating it? How much freaking beer can you possibly swill down in a couple of hours? With all the boozing going on, you’d think they’d know how to spell Tequila …’  

 And then I noticed it was still loud and rowdy on the bowling alley side … maybe it was those nachos and cheese. How demoralizing. Upstaged by a bowling alley.   Just thinking about this old gig at the Crystal Bowl is depressing… like I said before, I’m tired and so are you…Good night.