Confessions of a Road Band…Vol. 2…

Monday morning…

I think Keith Richards is tougher than Lance Armstrong. I think Mick Jagger is stronger than A-Rod and I think Charlie Watts could break Brian Urlacher over his knee. The Stones are inhuman. What they’ve done over the last 45 years is most likely the most difficult human achievement on the planet. Everest? Please. The Iron Man? A Joke. These guys are immortals…

We had the opportunity to play four nights in a row this last weekend, and honestly, it’s already getting easier. Like dogs peeing on the floor we’re learning what we can and can’t get away with on these runs and sitting here this morning trying to make sense of it all I can’t help but marvel at the strength of the people who tour relentlessly for a living. Obviously I don’t know a damn thing compared to the guys on the level above us, or have even a clue at what its like to survive on the Superstar level, though I have to assume it’s gotta be utter chaos. The lifestyle these guys have maintained over the years is so impressive it just wears me out sitting here thinking about it!! Pro athletes are extremely talented people in amazing shape for a brief period in their life. The Stones have been Tiger Woods on Sunday at the Masters everyday since before the Vietnam War. So who’s tougher?

With that in mind I’ll offer some thoughts on our week…keep in mind if the Stones are the Tiger Woods of rock than we’re the little league team from Canton, Ohio that lost to Akron in extras at the regional final…keeping us from an opportunity to play on ESPN at 8:30 on Saturday morning…

Wednesday afternoon we played a corporate party as a favor to two of our closest friends. The word favor in our world simply means, “Hey I need something and you can help me with it so we’ll do this for you so we can guilt you into helping us.” The gig was in a corporate park in Oak Brook, IL behind a sprawling mansion that overlooked a huge field and pond and was absolutely majestic. It was also 50 yards from where our trailer was parked and as this is only week two with the trailer, we had yet to discover the need for a dolly. Carrying an 80 pound amplifier 50 yards in 90 degree heat is not cool. It’s not rock n roll and its not even good exercise. It’s pure hell. In fact its worse than that because at any given time half the band is doubled over holding their sides and claiming dehydration…before the show…and so those of us who can make the run without breaking for smokes or whining end up doing double duty. CHURCHILL: “If you’re going through hell…keep going…

SIDE NOTE: If you’re one of those people who reads something like this and feels the need to comment afterwards, “WAA WAA poor baby! An unsigned local band has to carry their own gear to play a show for free…stop whining!!” then I suggest you hurl yourself into traffic. I’m not looking for your sympathy…though we’ll take it…I’m simply trying to paint a picture of our nice little Wednesday. We know the hardships of the business and probably know them better than you (lets face it if you are the guy I described above your probably reading this in an office somewhere wondering why the club never called you back after that stirring rendition of Wonderwall….and the dudes in the cog above us don’t have the time to read this dribble)

Anyhow midway through our set up the short gay guy overseeing the event from the corporate park blows a fuse at the site of our amplifiers. He says to our friend whose running the event from the client side, “Um, hello!? We said only acoustic acts were allowed to play here!” Meanwhile at this very moment 50 feet away our sound guy is assembling a full PA system designed to provide sound to a 200 person outdoor event and BOTH of our drummers are assembling their full kits…all while Swedish and myself are tuning our electric guitars. Well needless to say the situation is explained to me and so we make the necessary adjustments. I switch to Acoustic, the guys switch to brushes on the drums and we employ our kill switch on Mike’s amp and ask him to go sit by the Margarita machine…speaking of…

Never have a machine like this available to a band before a show. Most of the people we associate with will take a Margarita machine over a pack of blessed virgins. In fact our sound guy blew such a gasket at the site of this machine he introduced himself to the vendor as a potential client, and explained that we were currently SERIOUSLY considering putting a machine on our tour bus (which we don’t have) for the upcoming tour (which we haven’t booked). Needless to say our sound was amazing…Gload for president…

Playing a corporate party at 10% volume in the sun hammered on Margaritas for 200 people who don’t give a rat’s ass about you is pretty much the best gig on the planet. We played a grand total of seven songs in an hour and a half, every song was improvised and most of them had stream of conscious lyrics revolving around the shrimp that were being boiled close enough to the stage so that we could hear them cry out as they were immersed into a steaming cauldron along side 500 feet of Kielbasa sausage (our bass player later told us this is exactly how he wants to go). Despite the issues we were fed like kings, picked up a little cheddar in the form of 25 dollar gift cards (everyone in the band took the AMEX gift card as it was the same as cash…I took the BESTBUY one…idiot) and we got a lead on a maggie machine so I’ll go ahead and call it a success.

Thursday we played our monthly blues gig at our local watering hole and if you haven’t been to one of these yet you’re truly missing out. This last weeks was punctuated by a close friend of the band planning her birthday party for this evening and so to say the event was drunken would be an understatement. Try to imagine playing a gig you’ve played 30 times before with no one in the crowd but your friends and all the locals you drink with everyday…oh and everyone has the day off tomorrow and the trailer only needs to be moved 500 yards and doesn’t need to be unpacked after the show…BLACKOUT. In a limo at 2am on my way to one of the worst shit holes in all of Chicago I had a chance to sit and analyze the groups performance and I realized the key to our success this particular evening was having not one, but TWO sound guys…

Sound guys are like hot chicks in small town bars. They love knowing that they’re the hottest thing in the room and HATE when someone rolls in who may just have bigger cans or a better smile. Well, our sound guy has bigger cans and a better smile than pretty much anyone on the planet so the chemistry between these two guys was HOT. We had mics for every drum within a mile of the bar and a monitor mix for the back bartender…all set up for 75 drunk ass people who’ve heard us play 100 times before…hell of a nite…oh and we had a beat boxer open up for us that was a poor mans dude from Police Academy…awesome…

Friday we trucked out to the burbs for a lucrative gig at one of the best spots in the state to see a show. The venue also happens to be located in the very town where Pat and I grew up so we always take full advantage of this opportunity to invite all of our friends and family from the hood. This crew consists of two types of people:

1. Parents/family friends: These are people who are either related to you in some form or another or friends of your family who still live in the burbs. For example at this show I had both my parents at the show (not on the guest list) and my dentist from 3rd grade (not on the list). This is the group of people you don’t see very often and so when they have the opportunity to get a quick chat in they ask you questions like, “So are you married yet?” “Aren’t you tired of the city?” “What’s you’re REAL job?” “Have you met my daughter Audrey? She LOVES your band!! She’ll have the neck brace removed next month and then you two should totally have dinner!!” Fortunately for Pat and I our parents have an amazing group of friends who support their children’s wild fantasies and so I’m proud to say we have the strongest suburban draw of 50+ rockers in the Midwest…rock.

2. Suburbanites: These people are the fabric of society. They are the glue that keeps our country together, and they are the pistons that keep America’s engine running so smooth. They are some of my closest friends and coolest people I know and they are without a doubt some of the hardest binge drinkers on earth. Nobody sings T.G.I.F like a guy living in the burbs with his old lady and kid, and nobody anywhere offers to buy the guy in the band a shot faster than these people. I didn’t even finish hugging an old friend of mine before her husband threw his arm around me and barks, “What are we shootin!!” The look in this kinda guy’s eye is similar to that of a castaway’s eye when Angelina Jolie washes up on shore and asks him for something to drink. And I think I’ve had it hard…These are the people who’ve decided family is more important than fun (and I think they’re right I’m just not man enough to admit it) and so they’ve committed themselves to living a life free of all the burdens of the city and instead enjoy sprawling homes in the forest and being chased by psychotic local cops who live to ruin the lives of hard working family people. Fridays for these people are about getting the chance to grab a babysitter and getting after it. Is there anything in the world better than seeing the look of horror on a woman’s face when her husband has reverted back to his frat days and is blindly slamming shots with his buddies in the band!? No there isn’t.
Needless to say the show was a total blast and with two 90 minute sets we had the chance to do some really wild stuff (though no one saw most of it as suburban women take their men home at half time of these events knowing full well that if they stay the lawn will not get mowed the next day and there is a 0% chance the cabinet with the loose door above the toilet is getting fixed) with a great sound system in a cool room…thanks Cubby…

Finally Saturday rolled around and we were asked to participate in a showcase sponsored by a local promoter in the city. We weren’t really sure what to expect and even told the guy we had shows all weekend and couldn’t put our full promotional weight behind the show but he insisted and so we said why not. The gig was a 45 minute set with FOUR OTHER BANDS at 10:30 at a club we’ve played dozens of times before and most importantly, it was after a five hour BBQ for the air and water show…BLACKOUT. The show itself was a blast as it seemed like it was five minutes long and we had a ton of energy (the night before we were responsible for entertaining people from 10pm to 1:30am…lets just say that’s a HUGE adjustment to make in terms of a live show) but it was the party during the day that got me thinking about the comments I made at the beginning…

See you gotta figure that there is a “five hour BBQ” EVERYDAY before a Stones Show! I milled around the party sipping on Mikes Light Hard Lemonades (I know, I know, save it…I figured it better than pounding beer all day…little did I know these are almost twice as strong as beer) thinking to myself that Keith has probably sat through ten thousand of these parties and then had to go on stage in front of thousands and be on point (or close…or Keithian) only to get off stage and head to another “five hour BBQ” after party!! The ability to do this kind of thing everyday for decades is precisely what makes me think these guys are so impressive and leads me to believe they’re “tougher” than athletes. Sure Michael Jordan was great but he…you know what forget that…Jordan could’ve been Keith….Sure A-Rod is great but these guys aren’t partying all day before the game and then all nite after, and then getting up again to do it all over again…its just amazing…And I’m so jealous it sick.

Here’s to the real world champs…May you live forever…

Just like the Sugar…

GS-