I don't know the name of the venue. And I didn't want to turn this into the public shaming of a business. My goal is to highlight the fact that musicians deal with these situations all the time—in some ways, this is the new normal. (In fact, within five minutes of publishing this, somebody emailed me an even worse example of exploitative terms.)
I have played around the San Francisco Bay Area for about 20 years, and I have seen a few venues with similar. In general, if the first question from a booker at a new venue to us is "What's your draw?" I look for gigs elsewhere. I have tried explaining why this was wrong-headed a couple of times, but I think unsuccessfully. The essence of my argument is that venues succeed by being places that their guests learn to trust for their booking acumen. The band most likely to sign up to this kind of commitment is one that plays once or twice a year, doesn't care about the money, and can persuade their friends, family and work colleagues to attend. Since they don't play out much they are probably not that good, and anyone not in their group of friends will not be impressed and not return to the venue. Also, that band's group of friends will likely not come to the venue again. What makes a venue successful is the steady building of a base of people who like the place, trust their booking skills, and return regularly.
A good booker doesn’t book, they curate! If they curate well, they become a reliable destination with regular clientele. If you book a so-so act, even if they have a loyal following, you will alienate your regulars. In Minneapolis, there was a bluegrass venue called Dulonos who for decades always had decent bands booked by a reliable bluegrass musician and barely advertised. I almost never looked to see who was playing that weekend, because I knew it would be a decent band and I was hungry for pizza.
As bad as this is, and it’s bad, I’ve seen worse. I’ve had clubs ask my band to “pay to play.” In other words the band puts up a non refundable deposit recoupable from the door. Unbelievable! I don’t understand why a chef, for instance, isn’t required to guarantee a certain number of patrons but a musician is. I think the bottom line, so to speak, is that music (and arts in general) is really not valued in a capitalist economy. It pisses me off.
I started running a twice-monthly music series at the request of a local bar this year. We're located on the outskirts of downtown in one of the largest cities in the US. They support my efforts in many ways, but the finances are left for me to manage. The only way i'm able to do it is as a donation at the door gig - but thanks to the venue i'm able to distribute all the door $ to the musicians.
Here are some things i don't do: schedule my events on weekends when folks might have better paying gigs; ask musicians not to play in the area for *any* length of time proximate to our events (note - i actually see a spike in our attendance when musicians have other local gigs close to ours); worry about booking the same musicians too frequently in our series (note - how the f*** are musicians supposed to survive, let alone grow as artists if they can't play more than once a month in a wealthy city of 4 million people?!?!).
The bar does well on my nights, and they're happy to have me booking. My case might be special, because i have no overhead to worry about personally; I just have to keep the bar owners happy. On the other hand, my limited experience so far indicates to me that you can be artist-centric and still survive economically.
Which is not to say that the musicians make what they deserve: it pains and confounds me that I'm able to book world-class performers for the amount of $ that we're able to pay. In a just world, they would take home 10xs what our donations bring in. But I'm able to offer musicians a supportive and dignified environment in which to perform, which should be the minimum standard for any venue; sadly, most of them fail in this regard.
That email is clearly over the top. But as the former owner of a venue that booked musicians I can definitely see where that guy was coming from. For example, it sucks when you book a musician and they don't bother to reach out to their audience to let them know that they're playing. It also sucks when musicians play a show the following night and for whatever reason everyone goes to that one, I've had that happen multiple times. It never occurred to me to make demands out of these because (hopefully) I'm not a jerk.
From my perspective, the audience kept shrinking. When I started doing shows in about 2005, we'd do almost no promotion and fill the coffeehouse up. It didn't seem to matter what it was and there was enough money to go around that I felt generous with my guarantees. By the time I stopped in about 2019, the audience had shrunk—young people disappeared. So what I did in the end was make it clear to musicians that a show was very much a joint venture. I gave them 100% of the door and guaranteed a minimum. So, if the door was under that amount, I'd make up the difference. That seemed the best way to minimize risk. Which is good, because putting original, live music in front of an audience who is unfamiliar with it and expecting to make money is often a losing bet. So I definitely agree that the email is exploitative. But let's not pretend that this is an easy business for venues.
(Of course, if I knew that the musician would draw X amount of people, then I'd sometimes just make a guarantee. We had some musicians who would play once or twice a year and it had become almost routine).
I would also make a distinction between venues that have musicians as expected, routine background music and venues that have musicians more as discrete concert events—which is what we were. In my view, the former should be treated like freelance employment with a guaranteed payment and the latter should be treated more as a partnership.
This started a long time ago. Broadway Show musicians who love to play jazz, went to club and restaurant owners and offered there services free. Soon after the club, restaurants and venues realized they could take advantage of this and Jazz musicians who really need to make a living got screwed and still are.
I never do door gigs. I rather stay home and practice or watch TV
Ted, I am not an attorney but have worked as both an employee and as a contractor and that difference is why a revenue share arrangement that wouldn't work for a cook at a restaurant is perfectly legal for a band gig. (Not commenting on whether it should be acceptable to a musician and certainly this situation falls way outside the lines of acceptability.) A company employee falls under regulations including minimum wage, overtime, and related things that make revenue share not workable. A contractor does not fall under those rules, so a revenue share is perfectly fine - an example of this is a royalty, which is common with published books, games, records and the like.
Mike LeDonne should not take a door deal from a new club in Brooklyn that also wants a two-week radius clause. And I agree that the club is better off doing as many shows as possible with adventurous up and coming talent than restricting itself to desperate types or those who are certain they can draw 50 people any given Tuesday.
Being a four-wall promoter in Palo Alto, CA is three thousand thousand miles away from owning a club in Brooklyn but I would report, in comparison that I produced 29 jazz shows this year and paid as scale $400 per player guarantee for co-led combos, more for headliners, whether negotiated by an agent or directly with self-booking acts. And three-fourths of my shows were free and outdoors at one of three different parks and plazas here, owing to the concerns over transmission of virus at indoor shows. (At the indoors shows, I pay the band, rent the room from city of Palo Alto —called Mitchell Park Community Center or Palo Alto Art center—contract for sound and generally have one or two staff on payroll, too; I charge $20; I've done two shows in the last year that were in clubs that also had bars, beer and wine or a kitchen).
I have to admit I was not familiar with Mike LeDonne but can report that a talent buyer can, within five minutes, qualify him or not for his programming: Downbeat rising star in organ, 19 albums as a leader, 100 albums as a sideman, played with Sonny Rollins, did a Downbeat Blindfold test, et cetera. NB: I did actually book an organ trio this year, Adam Klipple with Josh Thurston Milligram and Dan Adams — their debut; Adam I met thru Will Bernard; plus I rented a Wurlitzer for a guy named Zacchae'us Paul who played with Melanie Charles. I certainly did not ask how old they were but guessed that someday they could fill such clubs and rooms and wanted to start the relationship, burden on me. Not sure if I’m an impresario or taste-maker, but out of respect for music and musicians, I’ll give it a try.
I guess we’re talking about this from two different angles. And yes this not only happens to musicians. But musicians have been exploited historically. In my scenario, and it’s common, the musician has little to no leverage. But I think really it’s a gripe on my part about capitalism in general. Workers tend to get exploited. The incentives are built into the system to favor owners over workers. Regarding the power to say no, it only exists when the person saying no can afford to turn down work. When your near the bottom that’s not an option. And I know everything you say sounds perfectly reasonable until you try to make a living at it and are faced with such onerous hurdles. A problem with your argument is how do you value worth? A musician works their entire young life to get good enough to be a pro. They then go out and try to get a gig only to find that they have no leverage. Is their worth the ability to play music at a high level or to sell booze in a dive bar? How is a musician supposed to eat while they try to build that leverage? These are the practical problems we face as artists.
It would be easy to blame the club promoter, the talent booker, the agent, but in reality I feel that there are a variety of conditions that fuel this reality. There is the socio-economic conditioning that causes people and institutions to undervalue artists’ work and the fact many musicians have a default orientation towards under-earning, perhaps internalizing this societal construct.
An interesting case in point, I have a friend who earns $5,000 a week playing gigs with accompaniment tracks at five star hotels. Most musicians would go into the hotel and consider getting $300 for a three hour steady a great accomplishment. This person went in with $850 as his base rate. He works four or five steadies a week in addition to single events. Now this is commercial work, not artistic work (concerts, or jazz clubs), but the economic point is clear. He got clear how much he needed to make,.asked for it and didn't settle for less. Call it what you may - chutzpah or cojones - but he doesn't lack either.
It happens in the literary world, too. I received a solicitation from a bookstore to do an author event. The email specified that I would have to apply to do an event, and, if I was approved, there would be fees that I (the author) would need to pay to the bookstore.
Thanks so much for sharing this. Unbelievable that a venue would require this. That link to the sizzling club date was terrific.
I sometimes wonder what would happen if people, all of us, were deprived of music for just 24 hours. Not a note on your computer, TV, at the movies, shopping at the supermarket, in a drug store, in a department store, in your car, on your phone, at your barbershop or beauty shop. Nowhere. Not a single note of music. For just 24 hours.
Within an hour we'd all be staring at each other like zombies. We can't live without music. And yet only a handful of us are truly talented musicians, in any genre, from jazz, to pop, to classical. We should treasure all musicians. They don't prevaricate. They simply play or sing notes. Ask politicians or almost anyone else to offer that same fealty to the human spirit.
Truth is larger than fiction when it comes to these kinds of stories. My "Gig From Hell" was back in 2008, after we practiced for 6 months (after finding a keyboard player who could play Steely Dan) we had our first show Downtown Flint. Self-promotion is something I'm trying to do more of (right?), and I invited my friends and family, and 90% of the audience was 'mine' and it's how we were paid. Tickets were either $5 or $10, and the house kept the first $50 or $100, and then everything else was split 50/50. And this is on Memorial Day, where many Michiganders go "up north" into nature for the weekend before coming back to a false reality. Twenty minutes before show-time, the manager had told me it was the largest audience for a Memorial Day weekend, which I forgot, since the guitarist booked the show a couple of months in advance. We weren't ripped off too bad financially, but we played three sets with 15 minute intermissions, and did an encore, a 4-hour show. After paying off some help (a musician friend of ours who 'volunteered' some space in his truck, sat in, and got paid, which was not a big deal), we each made about $70, and I spent $10 on the fish and chips, since we did a soundcheck much earlier in the day. It was our first gig, and I recorded most of it.
But our singer/keyboardist, Greg, was drinking. I didn't really notice until the 2nd set. And he kept playing and sounding worse, and I was the guy who brought him in. The previous keyboardist was tardy the first time, and was an hour late on the second rehearsal. Third time, he didn't even tell any of us he wasn't coming. I wasn't sure if my next-door neighbor, sometime best-friend, and first band-mate at the age of 11 was up to it. We started together in 1994, and by 2008, he hadn't progressed much, playing the condescending "what the people want" and never giving them credit. Well, this band wasn't about that. We felt the audience loved music just as much as us, had the same invested stake, and we'd never talk down to them, and we played what we wanted.
But my 'friend' kept drinking, but I'm on drums in the back, and focused on keeping time, not how much he's drinking. I especially hear it on record.
As we're loading up all our gear, I see everyone is dejected. The bass player says, "All that for 70 bucks?". Greg added, "Yeah, I'll never do anything for under $100" and I agreed, but didn't say anything. The gig just ended, and I didn't want to add any fuel to the fire. This was the brain-child of the guitar player, so I didn't think the money mattered to him. His aspirations seemed to be to play as many unique chords as possible in one song (which is why we played over 20 Steely Dan songs out of a set-list of 32), and to play Red Lobster, I guess, because his parents ate there, and it was a form of sophistication for him.
This gig is from hell, because I forgot the worst part, until after my second sentence. That was bad enough, but it kept getting worse.. I couldn't find my keys, so I ended up staying at Greg's house. I could only muster to sleep a couple of hours. In the morning, I called the venue, and they said they hadn't found anything, but I left them my number and information. Greg was complaining about time, having to get to his future (temporary) mother-in-law's place, and when I got to the office to notify them I lost my key, they told me because it was being sub-let to me, they couldn't let me in. They asked for the name of my friend who owned the apartment. I gave them all of Anthony's information. He didn't pick up the phone. I was taking a strong medication, and was feeling withdrawals. I was losing my mind, having trouble breathing... I told them "Fine. Here is my ID. Can you please just get the two pill bottles on top of the TV - they have my name on it". They said no, and repeated their Apartment Terms of Service. In frustration, I called them 'fascists'.
Greg and I got to the door. I thought, "Maybe I forgot to unlock it". Yeah right. I just said there, even half-punched the door.
"Do you want me to break it down?"
I was out of my head. I was in a panic. "Sure", and he did, and he left me immediately, with a door pressed against the frame.
The girl I was "seeing" (rarely because of distance) had called me to say how much she loved the concert, and suddenly, I see the police at my door. I could literally see them because there was a huge gap, since the door was off the frame.
"I have to go. The police are here". Minutes later, Anthony comes over! If Greg could have waited another 10 minutes, I wouldn't have been in this mess. Today, he's a lawyer, playing the same songs.
They searched everything. Made a mess. I got into a ton of legal trouble for having 14 grams of pot. It took me back fifty years. With the place a mess, and nothing for me to do, I found some weed they didn't find, smoked it..
Then I put in the performance I had recorded. It still haunts me, despite the great set-list, and the few instrumental moments that did sound good.
I was a professional musician (rock not jazz) in the late-80s and 90s. The things being demanded in this email were entirely "normal" at that time as well -- particularly the non-guarantee, the demand for extensive promotion (back then we were expected to go around stapling up posters), and the demand the the artist not perform anywhere else within a certain period. On the Toronto music scene, c. 1988 -- 1996, these things were entirely standard.
I don't know the name of the venue. And I didn't want to turn this into the public shaming of a business. My goal is to highlight the fact that musicians deal with these situations all the time—in some ways, this is the new normal. (In fact, within five minutes of publishing this, somebody emailed me an even worse example of exploitative terms.)
I have played around the San Francisco Bay Area for about 20 years, and I have seen a few venues with similar. In general, if the first question from a booker at a new venue to us is "What's your draw?" I look for gigs elsewhere. I have tried explaining why this was wrong-headed a couple of times, but I think unsuccessfully. The essence of my argument is that venues succeed by being places that their guests learn to trust for their booking acumen. The band most likely to sign up to this kind of commitment is one that plays once or twice a year, doesn't care about the money, and can persuade their friends, family and work colleagues to attend. Since they don't play out much they are probably not that good, and anyone not in their group of friends will not be impressed and not return to the venue. Also, that band's group of friends will likely not come to the venue again. What makes a venue successful is the steady building of a base of people who like the place, trust their booking skills, and return regularly.
A good booker doesn’t book, they curate! If they curate well, they become a reliable destination with regular clientele. If you book a so-so act, even if they have a loyal following, you will alienate your regulars. In Minneapolis, there was a bluegrass venue called Dulonos who for decades always had decent bands booked by a reliable bluegrass musician and barely advertised. I almost never looked to see who was playing that weekend, because I knew it would be a decent band and I was hungry for pizza.
As bad as this is, and it’s bad, I’ve seen worse. I’ve had clubs ask my band to “pay to play.” In other words the band puts up a non refundable deposit recoupable from the door. Unbelievable! I don’t understand why a chef, for instance, isn’t required to guarantee a certain number of patrons but a musician is. I think the bottom line, so to speak, is that music (and arts in general) is really not valued in a capitalist economy. It pisses me off.
I started running a twice-monthly music series at the request of a local bar this year. We're located on the outskirts of downtown in one of the largest cities in the US. They support my efforts in many ways, but the finances are left for me to manage. The only way i'm able to do it is as a donation at the door gig - but thanks to the venue i'm able to distribute all the door $ to the musicians.
Here are some things i don't do: schedule my events on weekends when folks might have better paying gigs; ask musicians not to play in the area for *any* length of time proximate to our events (note - i actually see a spike in our attendance when musicians have other local gigs close to ours); worry about booking the same musicians too frequently in our series (note - how the f*** are musicians supposed to survive, let alone grow as artists if they can't play more than once a month in a wealthy city of 4 million people?!?!).
The bar does well on my nights, and they're happy to have me booking. My case might be special, because i have no overhead to worry about personally; I just have to keep the bar owners happy. On the other hand, my limited experience so far indicates to me that you can be artist-centric and still survive economically.
Which is not to say that the musicians make what they deserve: it pains and confounds me that I'm able to book world-class performers for the amount of $ that we're able to pay. In a just world, they would take home 10xs what our donations bring in. But I'm able to offer musicians a supportive and dignified environment in which to perform, which should be the minimum standard for any venue; sadly, most of them fail in this regard.
That email is clearly over the top. But as the former owner of a venue that booked musicians I can definitely see where that guy was coming from. For example, it sucks when you book a musician and they don't bother to reach out to their audience to let them know that they're playing. It also sucks when musicians play a show the following night and for whatever reason everyone goes to that one, I've had that happen multiple times. It never occurred to me to make demands out of these because (hopefully) I'm not a jerk.
From my perspective, the audience kept shrinking. When I started doing shows in about 2005, we'd do almost no promotion and fill the coffeehouse up. It didn't seem to matter what it was and there was enough money to go around that I felt generous with my guarantees. By the time I stopped in about 2019, the audience had shrunk—young people disappeared. So what I did in the end was make it clear to musicians that a show was very much a joint venture. I gave them 100% of the door and guaranteed a minimum. So, if the door was under that amount, I'd make up the difference. That seemed the best way to minimize risk. Which is good, because putting original, live music in front of an audience who is unfamiliar with it and expecting to make money is often a losing bet. So I definitely agree that the email is exploitative. But let's not pretend that this is an easy business for venues.
(Of course, if I knew that the musician would draw X amount of people, then I'd sometimes just make a guarantee. We had some musicians who would play once or twice a year and it had become almost routine).
I would also make a distinction between venues that have musicians as expected, routine background music and venues that have musicians more as discrete concert events—which is what we were. In my view, the former should be treated like freelance employment with a guaranteed payment and the latter should be treated more as a partnership.
This started a long time ago. Broadway Show musicians who love to play jazz, went to club and restaurant owners and offered there services free. Soon after the club, restaurants and venues realized they could take advantage of this and Jazz musicians who really need to make a living got screwed and still are.
I never do door gigs. I rather stay home and practice or watch TV
Ted, I am not an attorney but have worked as both an employee and as a contractor and that difference is why a revenue share arrangement that wouldn't work for a cook at a restaurant is perfectly legal for a band gig. (Not commenting on whether it should be acceptable to a musician and certainly this situation falls way outside the lines of acceptability.) A company employee falls under regulations including minimum wage, overtime, and related things that make revenue share not workable. A contractor does not fall under those rules, so a revenue share is perfectly fine - an example of this is a royalty, which is common with published books, games, records and the like.
Permit me:
Mike LeDonne should not take a door deal from a new club in Brooklyn that also wants a two-week radius clause. And I agree that the club is better off doing as many shows as possible with adventurous up and coming talent than restricting itself to desperate types or those who are certain they can draw 50 people any given Tuesday.
Being a four-wall promoter in Palo Alto, CA is three thousand thousand miles away from owning a club in Brooklyn but I would report, in comparison that I produced 29 jazz shows this year and paid as scale $400 per player guarantee for co-led combos, more for headliners, whether negotiated by an agent or directly with self-booking acts. And three-fourths of my shows were free and outdoors at one of three different parks and plazas here, owing to the concerns over transmission of virus at indoor shows. (At the indoors shows, I pay the band, rent the room from city of Palo Alto —called Mitchell Park Community Center or Palo Alto Art center—contract for sound and generally have one or two staff on payroll, too; I charge $20; I've done two shows in the last year that were in clubs that also had bars, beer and wine or a kitchen).
I have to admit I was not familiar with Mike LeDonne but can report that a talent buyer can, within five minutes, qualify him or not for his programming: Downbeat rising star in organ, 19 albums as a leader, 100 albums as a sideman, played with Sonny Rollins, did a Downbeat Blindfold test, et cetera. NB: I did actually book an organ trio this year, Adam Klipple with Josh Thurston Milligram and Dan Adams — their debut; Adam I met thru Will Bernard; plus I rented a Wurlitzer for a guy named Zacchae'us Paul who played with Melanie Charles. I certainly did not ask how old they were but guessed that someday they could fill such clubs and rooms and wanted to start the relationship, burden on me. Not sure if I’m an impresario or taste-maker, but out of respect for music and musicians, I’ll give it a try.
I guess we’re talking about this from two different angles. And yes this not only happens to musicians. But musicians have been exploited historically. In my scenario, and it’s common, the musician has little to no leverage. But I think really it’s a gripe on my part about capitalism in general. Workers tend to get exploited. The incentives are built into the system to favor owners over workers. Regarding the power to say no, it only exists when the person saying no can afford to turn down work. When your near the bottom that’s not an option. And I know everything you say sounds perfectly reasonable until you try to make a living at it and are faced with such onerous hurdles. A problem with your argument is how do you value worth? A musician works their entire young life to get good enough to be a pro. They then go out and try to get a gig only to find that they have no leverage. Is their worth the ability to play music at a high level or to sell booze in a dive bar? How is a musician supposed to eat while they try to build that leverage? These are the practical problems we face as artists.
It would be easy to blame the club promoter, the talent booker, the agent, but in reality I feel that there are a variety of conditions that fuel this reality. There is the socio-economic conditioning that causes people and institutions to undervalue artists’ work and the fact many musicians have a default orientation towards under-earning, perhaps internalizing this societal construct.
An interesting case in point, I have a friend who earns $5,000 a week playing gigs with accompaniment tracks at five star hotels. Most musicians would go into the hotel and consider getting $300 for a three hour steady a great accomplishment. This person went in with $850 as his base rate. He works four or five steadies a week in addition to single events. Now this is commercial work, not artistic work (concerts, or jazz clubs), but the economic point is clear. He got clear how much he needed to make,.asked for it and didn't settle for less. Call it what you may - chutzpah or cojones - but he doesn't lack either.
It happens in the literary world, too. I received a solicitation from a bookstore to do an author event. The email specified that I would have to apply to do an event, and, if I was approved, there would be fees that I (the author) would need to pay to the bookstore.
Thanks so much for sharing this. Unbelievable that a venue would require this. That link to the sizzling club date was terrific.
I sometimes wonder what would happen if people, all of us, were deprived of music for just 24 hours. Not a note on your computer, TV, at the movies, shopping at the supermarket, in a drug store, in a department store, in your car, on your phone, at your barbershop or beauty shop. Nowhere. Not a single note of music. For just 24 hours.
Within an hour we'd all be staring at each other like zombies. We can't live without music. And yet only a handful of us are truly talented musicians, in any genre, from jazz, to pop, to classical. We should treasure all musicians. They don't prevaricate. They simply play or sing notes. Ask politicians or almost anyone else to offer that same fealty to the human spirit.
Truth is larger than fiction when it comes to these kinds of stories. My "Gig From Hell" was back in 2008, after we practiced for 6 months (after finding a keyboard player who could play Steely Dan) we had our first show Downtown Flint. Self-promotion is something I'm trying to do more of (right?), and I invited my friends and family, and 90% of the audience was 'mine' and it's how we were paid. Tickets were either $5 or $10, and the house kept the first $50 or $100, and then everything else was split 50/50. And this is on Memorial Day, where many Michiganders go "up north" into nature for the weekend before coming back to a false reality. Twenty minutes before show-time, the manager had told me it was the largest audience for a Memorial Day weekend, which I forgot, since the guitarist booked the show a couple of months in advance. We weren't ripped off too bad financially, but we played three sets with 15 minute intermissions, and did an encore, a 4-hour show. After paying off some help (a musician friend of ours who 'volunteered' some space in his truck, sat in, and got paid, which was not a big deal), we each made about $70, and I spent $10 on the fish and chips, since we did a soundcheck much earlier in the day. It was our first gig, and I recorded most of it.
But our singer/keyboardist, Greg, was drinking. I didn't really notice until the 2nd set. And he kept playing and sounding worse, and I was the guy who brought him in. The previous keyboardist was tardy the first time, and was an hour late on the second rehearsal. Third time, he didn't even tell any of us he wasn't coming. I wasn't sure if my next-door neighbor, sometime best-friend, and first band-mate at the age of 11 was up to it. We started together in 1994, and by 2008, he hadn't progressed much, playing the condescending "what the people want" and never giving them credit. Well, this band wasn't about that. We felt the audience loved music just as much as us, had the same invested stake, and we'd never talk down to them, and we played what we wanted.
But my 'friend' kept drinking, but I'm on drums in the back, and focused on keeping time, not how much he's drinking. I especially hear it on record.
As we're loading up all our gear, I see everyone is dejected. The bass player says, "All that for 70 bucks?". Greg added, "Yeah, I'll never do anything for under $100" and I agreed, but didn't say anything. The gig just ended, and I didn't want to add any fuel to the fire. This was the brain-child of the guitar player, so I didn't think the money mattered to him. His aspirations seemed to be to play as many unique chords as possible in one song (which is why we played over 20 Steely Dan songs out of a set-list of 32), and to play Red Lobster, I guess, because his parents ate there, and it was a form of sophistication for him.
This gig is from hell, because I forgot the worst part, until after my second sentence. That was bad enough, but it kept getting worse.. I couldn't find my keys, so I ended up staying at Greg's house. I could only muster to sleep a couple of hours. In the morning, I called the venue, and they said they hadn't found anything, but I left them my number and information. Greg was complaining about time, having to get to his future (temporary) mother-in-law's place, and when I got to the office to notify them I lost my key, they told me because it was being sub-let to me, they couldn't let me in. They asked for the name of my friend who owned the apartment. I gave them all of Anthony's information. He didn't pick up the phone. I was taking a strong medication, and was feeling withdrawals. I was losing my mind, having trouble breathing... I told them "Fine. Here is my ID. Can you please just get the two pill bottles on top of the TV - they have my name on it". They said no, and repeated their Apartment Terms of Service. In frustration, I called them 'fascists'.
Greg and I got to the door. I thought, "Maybe I forgot to unlock it". Yeah right. I just said there, even half-punched the door.
"Do you want me to break it down?"
I was out of my head. I was in a panic. "Sure", and he did, and he left me immediately, with a door pressed against the frame.
The girl I was "seeing" (rarely because of distance) had called me to say how much she loved the concert, and suddenly, I see the police at my door. I could literally see them because there was a huge gap, since the door was off the frame.
"I have to go. The police are here". Minutes later, Anthony comes over! If Greg could have waited another 10 minutes, I wouldn't have been in this mess. Today, he's a lawyer, playing the same songs.
They searched everything. Made a mess. I got into a ton of legal trouble for having 14 grams of pot. It took me back fifty years. With the place a mess, and nothing for me to do, I found some weed they didn't find, smoked it..
Then I put in the performance I had recorded. It still haunts me, despite the great set-list, and the few instrumental moments that did sound good.
My life seems to be one gig from hell.
The only bands that will sign up for such a thing are so desperate they'll beg or even pay 20 friends to show up ...
I was a professional musician (rock not jazz) in the late-80s and 90s. The things being demanded in this email were entirely "normal" at that time as well -- particularly the non-guarantee, the demand for extensive promotion (back then we were expected to go around stapling up posters), and the demand the the artist not perform anywhere else within a certain period. On the Toronto music scene, c. 1988 -- 1996, these things were entirely standard.