Any horrific tales ?

[E-minor7]

As a young man I played a lot on the pedestrian-street of this town (approx. 1 mill. citizens). We’re talking 80 - 81 - 82. Often during the weekends from midnight to maybe 3 AM. It took place in a gate between two streets, a passage with a good reverb where the case for coins - as some kind of ‘stage-edge’ indicator - was opened on the pavement some meters in front of us. Repertoire - the ordinary bunch, so to say : C S N & Y, Donovan, Dylan, Beatles, B. Joel, P. Simon and so. Most of the times I was not alone. We had a whole band goin’ and called ourselves Street Tigers. The members varied. Sometimes three, four, five people joined up - even a bass player with a little Pignose amp, had his place in the line-up. One night a fantastic girl singer - younger than us - drifted by and without knowing the songs, she just threw herself into blend. Made the harmonies 3-part-blossom like wild – (and everyone fall in love with her on the spot). Of course she had to hop on board and though living in another town, she took the train in every weekend to meet us gypsies in the midnight gateway. Eventually we got closer and became friends. She later signed a contract, then moved to New Orleans, returned, but never stopped singing. In fact we still see each other from time to time and always bring up a few tunes when it happens.

As you can imagine, this was very happy days. Guess none of us never ever got closer to ‘free zone’ and I look back at the period with a glowing heart and lots of smiles.

Now, one evening only two of us were in there. Eddie with his 70’ties hot sounding Yamaha and me carrying my brand new Gibson J-45 Square Shouldered, , , , , little did I know – Norlin model. Having played a lot over the teacups at home, we were able to perform as a duo and had great fun from this (remember Ed sometimes featured a six-string banjo). At some point he put away his instrument, leaning it towards a jewel-shop window and sat down on the granite stairs to light a cigarette. I sat down too, but played on alone. Then suddenly three or four guys turned around the corner. They were not punks, more like south-town blue denim rough types. They walked straight up around us and began talking. Eddie smoked speechless as I kept playing like nothing. One bigger guy stood right behind me. I felt him above. Then in a flash he kicked the guitar out of my hands, hitting it on the lower bout. As if in slow-motion, it rotated away, , , a couple of meters, , , straight over in the arms of Ed. He simply grabbed it in midair. This scared me shitless (as Stephen Stills would have said), and I froze down. I’m sure Eddie was rather paralyzed too, but this strange ring of apparent invulnerability around us, must have shone some power that scared them even more. For without a sound they disappeared like wolfs back into the night, leaving the two minstrels intact right there on the granite steps. The guitar - totally unharmed too. Not a trace was found on the Gibson flyer and after a sip of wine and another smoke, we played on.

This incident taught me a lesson : As your instinct tells, never bring your high end guitar into the savage zone.

Soon bought a street player instead. A much cheeper, rather rich sounding, too blond Japanese western. Ooooh, has it served me well. And here it is after all these years. It should have been shown under vilyfools ‘Mojo’ thread, but I felt like telling the tale. This is my homage. The baton is passed.

[Buc McMaster]

Spooky. With the flying guitar tranfer coming off like it was planned, perhaps they figured you two for off-duty ninjas or something......not to be f'd with. Other than that, it's a good story of street music.

 

Not so horrific, but an eye opener nonetheless. In the late 80s my 3-pc rock n' roll band played a medium-sized venue on the westside to great fanfare from the crowd and the club owner. At the end of the night we collected our share of the proceeds and were booked for another show the following month. Just what a band wants, right? Put on a good show, charge up the crowd, sell a lot of booze and come back for more. We showed up for the next gig and found that though the club name had not changed, the ownership had.....and so had the crowd. As we were loading in and setting up gear, the place filled up with serious cowboy and cowgirl types.....hats, boots, pie pan belt buckles.....you get the picture. Sure didn't look like the crowd we had played to before. My band mates and I looked at one another with those "uh oh" looks friends pass between themselves as we taped cable to the stage and tuned things. We struck up our first tune, probably something like The Authority Song by Cougar. Most of our set list was raucus, edgy rock n' roll, and we played loud, just as we had done the previous show at the same club. Well. The faces turned sour and the packed house began to thin.....quickly. Before we finished the first set there was one guy at the bar still sitting.....that and a half dozen bartenders and waitresses. Wow. It was really weird to watch that happen from the stage. Upon striking the last chord all three of us broke into loud laughter....it was like something out of a movie. The barkeep paid us for the whole night and said "go on home"......so we did. I still chuckle when I remember that night.

[rar]

Most of our set list was raucus, edgy rock n' roll, and we played loud, just as we had done the previous show at the same club.

 

I believe the standard protocol in this situation is to open with Rawhide, then do Stand By Your Man (introduced as "a favorite of the horn section"), and so on through the evening, winding up with a reprise of Rawhide.

 

-- Bob R

[BigKahune]

I believe the standard protocol in this situation is to open with Rawhide, then do Stand By Your Man (introduced as "a favorite of the horn section"), and so on through the evening, winding up with a reprise of Rawhide.

 

À la The Blues Brothers. Love that scene at Bob's Country Bunker with the broken glass flying through the chicken wire. B)

[albertjohn]

À la The Blues Brothers. Love that scene at Bob's Country Bunker with the broken glass flying through the chicken wire. B)

 

And the beer bill exceeeds the gig fee!

 

Sorry. No nightmares to report.

[zombywoof]

I busked in London and elsewhere during the mid-1970s and never really had any problem. I liked it over there and might have stayed longer but I really wanted a good cheeseburger so headed home.

 

Can't tell you why but in all the decades I gigged in places between roughly Boston and Baltimore we managed to avoid trouble for the most part. And during the late 1960s and early 1970s in particular we played some of the nastiest bars there were - those kind of places across the street from an bulding with a big neon sign saying "Jesus Saves." But nobody really messed with us. About the only thing we ran into was early on we got into a little tiff with the local clergy and town fathers in our hometown for playing "unsuitable" material but all that happened was we could not get jobs playing school dances or something the local rec department was putting on. It did wonders for our reputation though.

[DanvillRob]

Played a little Pizza joint back in 1965. We were kids and we sucked, but we were learing the trade. Started out as a 'once a week' gig, but eventually evolved into 3-4 nights, and even after hours, (in California that starts at 2 AM).

 

One Saturday night, (or Sunday morning), the Pizza joint was filled with a Motorcycle Gang called the "Banshees".... when the Hells Angles local chapter showed up. It didn't take 3 minutes before the whole place was a fistfight, with flying beer mugs, (Illegal after 2 AM).

 

Here we were...four kids on a stage not quite big enough for us with this HUGE fight going on. We weren't playing music as much as we were trying to protect our gear! But we were back the following Wednesday!

[E-minor7]

Thought that was the decade of good vibrations - what a horrendous story. Wish you'ld share more from those days.

I thank you, , , and promise not to analyze.

[DanvillRob]

Thought that was the decade of good vibrations - what a horrendous story. Wish you'ld share more from those days.

I thank you, , , and promise not to analyze.

 

 

I used to post here all the time, lately not so much. But I suspect the old timers have heard my stories ad nauseam.

And don't take my posts too seriously... almost everything I post is "tongue-in-cheek"