I used to play in a jazz fusion band. The Drummer, I'll call her Sally, was an amazing character. Just a wild and crazy gal. Hard hitting, hard drinking, smoker, and she could out-cuss a sailor. I was never afraid to walk outside after a gig if she was there. She was from Austin Texas.

We played together for I dunno, a year? maybe two. It was a long time ago.

One day she calls me up and asks if I'd play guitar for gig she's got. "Something completely different." she tells me.

Sure. I'm in

I show up for rehearsal, and it turns out she's playing drums and singing lead for this one-gig wonder band. And man - can she sing. Bonnie Raitt if you closed your eyes. The amazing thing was that in all the time I had known her up to that point, she had never mentioned that she was a singer. We were playing Texas Blues-Rock for that gig.

At one point (still in rehearsal) we were doing an Allman Brothers tune. It came time for the solo and I waived it off saying I'd do it live, but there was no point having everyone listen to me do that during rehearsal.

Sally just about flew over the Drum kit. She got right up in my face.

"This ain't about you buddy. This is about the music. This is about the song. So you play the music, and you do justice to the song."

She spun around on her heel and sat down.
"From the top!"

Best 15 second lesson I ever got.

It was a great gig.

About a year later I ran into her at another gig. She was fronting the band on vocals and guitar. Texas Blues-Rock and slide and singing. When she sang or played that guitar - you'd swear you were listening to Bonnie again. And she was a stunning guitarist in every way. Up to that point I had no idea that she played guitar, she had never mentioned it.

About a year later I got a call from her. Would I help her to get her van on the road? Sure. That was 10 years ago.

Never saw her again.

I learned a lot from Sally.

Anybody out there got some lessons from the journey?

This message has been edited. Last edited by: ST,

Many many many years ago about a year before they got famous the Commodores (Brick House etc.) played at a local club here in town. It was the first night of a two week gig. They were an hour and a half late. Lionel Richie wasn’t there; he was taking exams back at college. It was raining so hard that we couldn’t leave. There were 15 people in a room that could easily hold a 100+. So we sat there and watched them get set up. Remember that at this time they were just another road band. They got their equipment up and did a quick sound check and said “we will be right back after we change our clothes”.
Fifteen minutes later they came out and hit that stage like there were 15,000 people in that room. They played a solid two hours before they took a break. That impressed me to this day. I do not take a small crowd for granted and make it a “practice night”.

Hey ST

We were playing a gig about 18 years ago and our sax player( let's call him Jack) had brought his wife to the gig.

This guy in the audience was being really rude to Jacks wife and she was visibly upset. While we were playing,Jack got off the stage grabbed the guy by the scruff of the neck and led him outside.

About 2 minutes later Jack returned red faced jumped back up on the stage and proceeded to laugh and make jokes as though nothing had happened.

He told me later that you don't bring your problems to the stage.People are here to forget theirs and we are here to help them do just that.

Gee, I miss that guy.
Starvin

Brings back memories! Year's ago while playing in a Chicago, BST Jazz Rock Group a fight broke out on the dance floor. I was playing drums and watched a beer bottle fly by my left ear and hit the wall behind me. The trumpet player ( band leader) yelled out "keep playin"!! Take the "second ending"!!!!!!! I hid behind a cymbal while still 'keeping the rhythm". "The show must go on! ( So did the fight) LOL!

I got my best 15 second lesson from no less than Chuck Berry.

I landed a college gig with him back in '91, with my friend John, the piano player from the Soul Hoosiers.

In the dressing room, pre-show, Chuck told us that "when I stomp my foot down, you all stop...and don't play until I put that foot down again".

Well, I thought I knew better, so when he put his foot down the first time, I stopped of course, but then I did a short fill to lead it back in. he shot me an over-the-shoulder glare I've never forgetten.

At the time however, in my excitement over playing to a crowd of thousands, I got over it pretty quick, and the next time he put his foot down, I did the same thing. Again...another deadly glare in my direction.

My wife, was sitting bug-eyed in the audience, front row, hand over her mouth, saying to herself "do what he say, do what he say!" (She didn't even know at the time that he'd said anything to us in the dressing room, but told me later that she knew I was doing something really bad wrong.)

The third time Chuck layed down his foot, and I came back in early with a fill, Chuck walked back to my drums, leaned in and calmly but firmly said "Keep your breaks clean".

Heart pounding...swallowing a lump in my throat, I said "Yes sir".

He walked back to his mic, and I played nothing but straight time for the rest of the night.

A lesson I never forgot, and the reason I’ve since aimed at a *keep it simple* approach.

I love this stuff!

Anyone else out there with something?

starvin

I guess it was about 14 years ago or so. I had recently driven the last nail in the coffin of a reasonably successful Blues band. I took a job with a friend that was playing a duo and his guitar player had moved back home to Nashville. Not being a country picker I was stretched pretty thin and flying by the seat of my pants most of the first set. We were playing to a pretty good audience in a Ramada Inn lounge. We had just begun the second set, when these two huge weight lifter type dudes went at it. We both kept playing until the fight crossed the stage. I saw it coming and was able to dodge them. Unfortunately there's not much dodging a keyboard player can do. My pals keyboards went to the floor and the music ended.
The manager (a woman) was on the scene immediately and my bud started cussin' some blankety blank is going to pay for my blankety blank keyboards. The manager cautioned him to watch his mouth. Well! He repeated the same words again to which her response was a stare...a very spooky stare. The third time he said it, she said, "That's it".... "Out!" We got paid for that night but lost the next night not to mention the wedding party in the club the next afternoon. On the way home...(I had picked up one of the keyboard keys from the floor and slipped it into my pocket)I asked ( while holding the key up) "Hey man...What key was that last tune in?" He didn't think it was very funny to start with, but it did seem to lighten his mood a bit. I learned that night that it's best sometimes just to shut up and say "yes maam". It turned out that one of the fighting dudes was the national arm wrestling champion for that year. He was the one that took the first lick. Fortunately he paid for my partners repairs. Unfortunately though, we never played that place again...it was a good payer.

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The third time he said it, she said, "That's it".... "Out!"

Sometimes anger management and frustration is tough for some people to control.
Age (maturity) sometimes helps or makes it worse for a few people.
Unfortunately the 3rd time's a charm rule did you guys in. It is hard when your the injured party and temperament gets out of control. You usually do lose.
Tough lesson.

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Originally posted by Drumr:
I got my best 15 second lesson from no less than Chuck Berry.....

Regarding this- You're lucky he didn't tell you to get off the stage. I saw Chuck in Seattle about 20 years ago now. He had the members of a famous local band backing him up. At one point, Chuck walked over to the bass player and whispered in his ear. The bass player looked at Chuck like "What????". Chuck Nods. The Bass player takes off his bass (in mid song), walks off the stage, and doesn't come back for the rest of the set.

I've heard Chuck's a taskmaster.

In the nineties I played with a bluegrass band called Looking East. A steady gig we had every Sunday was in a bar in Jamestown R.I. that had a reputation as a rough-and-tumble place. But it was fun to play there just the same.

One night a Hell's Angel-type of guy was looking for a battle with people. Obviously drunk and angry. He looked at the band and started yelling for us to play Amazing Grace. Not a song we did and some of the band members said 'no way' but I knew the lyrics and launched into an average-at-best version. When the band finished I could see he was crying. He walked up to me and thanked me, saying that it was 'for Sally, my wife... she died." Then he left the bar. I think that sometimes what we consider performing might just be God's work.

quote:

Regarding this- You're lucky he didn't tell you to get off the stage. I saw Chuck in Seattle about 20 years ago now. He had the members of a famous local band backing him up. At one point, Chuck walked over to the bass player and whispered in his ear. The bass player looked at Chuck like "What????". Chuck Nods. The Bass player takes off his bass (in mid song), walks off the stage, and doesn't come back for the rest of the set.

I've heard Chuck's a taskmaster.

I heard similar stories about Chuck. I know he works with local talent rather than his own band. The fellow telling me the story said that when they were hired that they rehearsed as a band and were told there would be nothing new, just Chucks hits and in the key they were written.

They never met Chuck and didn't even see him till he came out on stage and that he would start playing without calling the song and everyone was expected to follow along even when he took an extra break or would add or leave out a verse.
Said it should have been a train wreck but somehow they pulled it off and Chuck left the stage without a word to the band.

www.leodean.com leo

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One night a Hell's Angel-type of guy was looking for a battle with people. Obviously drunk and angry. He looked at the band and started yelling for us to play Amazing Grace. Not a song we did and some of the band members said 'no way' but I knew the lyrics and launched into an average-at-best version. When the band finished I could see he was crying. He walked up to me and thanked me, saying that it was 'for Sally, my wife... she died." Then he left the bar. I think that sometimes what we consider performing might just be God's work.

What an excellent story that was, thank you.