More Bass Players Than Knucklehead
20 January 2007
Guess where I played this weekend?
If you guessed Baha Rock Club in St. Charles, MO, then you win a great big smile from me the next time I see you! (Yes, I do occasionally smile, in spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.)
While it may seem like the only place we play any more, a glance at the newly-revised BenWahBob website will correct this obtuseness. Carlos has apparently been a busy little boy in the scheduling department, as there are many more dates on there already with the promise of more to come. Not to worry, kids…BWB is not going away. I, on the other hand, may be going away sooner than even I thought.
As the witching hour approached Saturday afternoon, Dawna called and informed me regretfully that she would not be going with me to Baha as originally planned, as she had familial obligations to fulfill. Bummer. I was really looking forward to spending some time with her. The weather had been taking a turn for the worse, and as much as six inches of snow was expected. Driving to St. Charles in this didn’t exactly tickle my fancy, either. As it happened, though, the snow held off until after I had arrived at the Club.
Upon loading in my gear, I was informed that there were indeed three bass players coming out to sit-in and audition with the band…very cool. They had all three arrived before we began playing at 21:00, and we all stood around in front of the stage yakking like a bunch of musicians. They all seemed like pretty decent guys.
We played the first set through with virtually no interruptions in the flow. That was a nice change of pace from our recent trend of goofing around between songs. There’s nothing wrong with that, unless you consider loosing the crowd’s participation wrong. We even ended the set on time. Wow! Dale must have read my last blog…or, more likely, Chris read it to him (thanks, Chris!). Whatever was happening, or for whatever reason(s), I thought we came off a lot more professional this way.
I snuck outside – as usual – during break to call my sweetie (go ahead and make the whip-cracking noise…I’ll wait until you get it out of your system). It was cold, and the snow was coming down pretty good by that point, so I didn’t stay out there too long. It was when I went back into the Club that I realized there was quite an exceptional crowd there…not too bad for a snowy night in January. They stayed with us most of the night, too.
The second set started out normal for the first two songs, and then the auditions took over. Two of the guys played three songs each during this set. As I walked off of the stage for the first guy, Jim, the Club’s Manager, started immediately giving me grief about not playing, saying he would dock my pay at the end of the night. As the second guy went up to play, Jim feigned disbelief at me still not playing. I was standing next to the sound board talking to the crew, and getting guff from pretty much everyone. It’s nice to be so loved.
The third set went pretty much the same way, except only one bass player was left. Again, I was assaulted with verbal tirades about my alleged sloth. We did, in all of the offensive banter, find time to actually listen to the three bass players, though. The first guy was OK, but apparently mentioned some issue he has requiring a 12-step intervention program. The second guy seemed extremely uneasy on-stage, and his playing was very timid. The last guy seemed like the best of the three to all of us at the sound board. Of course, this will ultimately rest on the three guys in the band to decide.
I finished the third set, and played all of the last one, mostly to alleviate the pressure mounting in Jim’s head as he figured the amount he would be docking me (I think it was at about $20 at this point). We even played War Pigs early in the night for those who always complain about missing it at the end of the night.
During one of the breaks, when I wasn’t outside, I was standing on the stage talking with Carlos. We were approached by a couple of young ladies, one of which handed me a card. Apparently they were playing some sort of bachelorette party game that required them to fulfill the task on the card. I read the card and snickered. It said, “Get a guy to take off his shirt and flex his muscles in front of a crowd.” Now…what made her think I was the one to do this, I have no idea. I tried to engage her in a conversation aimed at revealing the aforementioned thought processes, but was getting nowhere quick. Carlos seemed to be enjoying the show, though. We negotiated back and forth for a bit, and in the end determined that shirts would only need to go up high enough to see nipples. OK…sure…why not. I lifted my Lynn Swann Pittsburgh Steelers jersey, flexed my arms, and said, “There…are you happy now?” She went away with a smile, so I guess she was. I should probably be offended that they were only interested in seeing my body, but, hey…I’m a guy. Besides, at my age, I really just don’t care.
At the end of the night, we broke down the stage, packed up our stuff, got paid (my full amount, no less), and wandered off to our respective homes. We had only received a couple of inches of snow, so the driving wasn’t too bad. My new truck has all-wheel drive, so even the slippery hills of old-town St. Charles were no problem. I did see quite a few accidents on the highway, though. Judging by the way many people were driving, that came as no surprise to me at all. One word of advice…if you drive a rear-wheel drive Mustang on I-270 with freshly packed snow and slush, don’t be so surprised when you end up smashing the front end of it into the concrete median, and don’t blame it on anyone but yourself. Most of the rest of us were doing just fine. The roads got remarkably better once I got into Illinois…which was odd, as it is usually the other way around. I drove on wet pavement from the river to St. Jacob. Even IL-4 was clean.
Unfortunately, as I write this on a Tuesday evening, I am preparing to drive Wednesday morning to the Chicago area to clean and repair an organ. I’m told they’ve had a bit of snow up there this week. Great. I guess it can’t be any worse than the 10°F it will be here in St. Louis tonight, with a wind chill well below 0°F. Thank goodness for global warming, eh?
Guess where I played this weekend?
If you guessed Baha Rock Club in St. Charles, MO, then you win a great big smile from me the next time I see you! (Yes, I do occasionally smile, in spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.)
While it may seem like the only place we play any more, a glance at the newly-revised BenWahBob website will correct this obtuseness. Carlos has apparently been a busy little boy in the scheduling department, as there are many more dates on there already with the promise of more to come. Not to worry, kids…BWB is not going away. I, on the other hand, may be going away sooner than even I thought.
As the witching hour approached Saturday afternoon, Dawna called and informed me regretfully that she would not be going with me to Baha as originally planned, as she had familial obligations to fulfill. Bummer. I was really looking forward to spending some time with her. The weather had been taking a turn for the worse, and as much as six inches of snow was expected. Driving to St. Charles in this didn’t exactly tickle my fancy, either. As it happened, though, the snow held off until after I had arrived at the Club.
Upon loading in my gear, I was informed that there were indeed three bass players coming out to sit-in and audition with the band…very cool. They had all three arrived before we began playing at 21:00, and we all stood around in front of the stage yakking like a bunch of musicians. They all seemed like pretty decent guys.
We played the first set through with virtually no interruptions in the flow. That was a nice change of pace from our recent trend of goofing around between songs. There’s nothing wrong with that, unless you consider loosing the crowd’s participation wrong. We even ended the set on time. Wow! Dale must have read my last blog…or, more likely, Chris read it to him (thanks, Chris!). Whatever was happening, or for whatever reason(s), I thought we came off a lot more professional this way.
I snuck outside – as usual – during break to call my sweetie (go ahead and make the whip-cracking noise…I’ll wait until you get it out of your system). It was cold, and the snow was coming down pretty good by that point, so I didn’t stay out there too long. It was when I went back into the Club that I realized there was quite an exceptional crowd there…not too bad for a snowy night in January. They stayed with us most of the night, too.
The second set started out normal for the first two songs, and then the auditions took over. Two of the guys played three songs each during this set. As I walked off of the stage for the first guy, Jim, the Club’s Manager, started immediately giving me grief about not playing, saying he would dock my pay at the end of the night. As the second guy went up to play, Jim feigned disbelief at me still not playing. I was standing next to the sound board talking to the crew, and getting guff from pretty much everyone. It’s nice to be so loved.
The third set went pretty much the same way, except only one bass player was left. Again, I was assaulted with verbal tirades about my alleged sloth. We did, in all of the offensive banter, find time to actually listen to the three bass players, though. The first guy was OK, but apparently mentioned some issue he has requiring a 12-step intervention program. The second guy seemed extremely uneasy on-stage, and his playing was very timid. The last guy seemed like the best of the three to all of us at the sound board. Of course, this will ultimately rest on the three guys in the band to decide.
I finished the third set, and played all of the last one, mostly to alleviate the pressure mounting in Jim’s head as he figured the amount he would be docking me (I think it was at about $20 at this point). We even played War Pigs early in the night for those who always complain about missing it at the end of the night.
During one of the breaks, when I wasn’t outside, I was standing on the stage talking with Carlos. We were approached by a couple of young ladies, one of which handed me a card. Apparently they were playing some sort of bachelorette party game that required them to fulfill the task on the card. I read the card and snickered. It said, “Get a guy to take off his shirt and flex his muscles in front of a crowd.” Now…what made her think I was the one to do this, I have no idea. I tried to engage her in a conversation aimed at revealing the aforementioned thought processes, but was getting nowhere quick. Carlos seemed to be enjoying the show, though. We negotiated back and forth for a bit, and in the end determined that shirts would only need to go up high enough to see nipples. OK…sure…why not. I lifted my Lynn Swann Pittsburgh Steelers jersey, flexed my arms, and said, “There…are you happy now?” She went away with a smile, so I guess she was. I should probably be offended that they were only interested in seeing my body, but, hey…I’m a guy. Besides, at my age, I really just don’t care.
At the end of the night, we broke down the stage, packed up our stuff, got paid (my full amount, no less), and wandered off to our respective homes. We had only received a couple of inches of snow, so the driving wasn’t too bad. My new truck has all-wheel drive, so even the slippery hills of old-town St. Charles were no problem. I did see quite a few accidents on the highway, though. Judging by the way many people were driving, that came as no surprise to me at all. One word of advice…if you drive a rear-wheel drive Mustang on I-270 with freshly packed snow and slush, don’t be so surprised when you end up smashing the front end of it into the concrete median, and don’t blame it on anyone but yourself. Most of the rest of us were doing just fine. The roads got remarkably better once I got into Illinois…which was odd, as it is usually the other way around. I drove on wet pavement from the river to St. Jacob. Even IL-4 was clean.
Unfortunately, as I write this on a Tuesday evening, I am preparing to drive Wednesday morning to the Chicago area to clean and repair an organ. I’m told they’ve had a bit of snow up there this week. Great. I guess it can’t be any worse than the 10°F it will be here in St. Louis tonight, with a wind chill well below 0°F. Thank goodness for global warming, eh?
posted by Paul J. Smith | 21:02
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home