Music-venue agents has threatened to cull the bung on me and accept told me “not to bother” on arena a additional set. That’s nothing.
But in all of these years of arena shows, the buyer of a bar-venue had never physically attacked me onstage during what was basically the complete check.
A few months ago, while visiting ancestors in arctic Texas, I was asked by some buddies to sit in with their improvised music project. I brought some beginning music bread-and-butter accessories to the gig – cassette tapes, a Walkman, bend pedals, a baby mixer – and set up the accessory on a bar table onstage.
The vocalist/keyboardist and guitarist belted me date appropriate as we approved to amount out the P.A. and soundboard aback the being active complete had bare his post. I beatific a arresting to the board, creating a simple two-second bend that articulate like it could’ve been the alpha to a Björk or Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti song. Annihilation too insane.
This went on for maybe 30 abnormal as the guitarist and keyboardist adapted their levels. Afresh a bandmate cranked up the aggregate on my loop, signalling that the wholly improvised set was about to begin.
What had to accept been 15 abnormal later, an angry-looking barbate dude was onstage and in my face.
“What is this? What the hell is this?,” he yell-demanded.
I blankly stared at him, accurately confused.
“What the fuck are you doing? This is fucking annoying.”
Huh? Who is this clown? I afresh noticed his atramentous T-shirt emblazoned with the bar logo. I additionally saw that one of his biceps may accept been as big as my head.
I ample he was a bartender or bouncer at this debris heap. This authentic town’s music area options had been afresh cut in bisected due to a array of factors, abrogation bounded promoters scrambling to book aberrant shows at any abode – alike if it was an billowing dump – that would say yes.
Turns out, he wasn't aloof a bartender. As I would acquisition out afterwards the fact, the guy absolutely owns the joint. An Internet chase of his LinkedIn and Facebook pages, calm with Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission records, confirms it.
I told the guy to allocution to one of my bandmates. He clomped aback over to the guitarist, who wouldn’t comedy a distinct agenda on this night, and afresh to the vocalist, who ashore the mike center into the owner’s aperture as he shouted at us to stop.
I laughed. The bar owner, who I still anticipation was an accustomed agents member, stormed over to me.
“Why are you laughing? Do you anticipate that’s funny?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did he stick that [the microphone] in my face?”
“Because he capital you to say article to the audience.”
Something about that animadversion angry his acrimony into fury.
He ordered me to stop playing. I refused. He went over to the guitarist and vocalist/keyboardist and accepted the same. They obliged.
“He’s an asshole,” the aggressive man said, pointing in my direction. “He’s a fucking asshole.”
Looking back, I apparently should’ve arranged up at the moment. I’m not decidedly abashed of ample humans, but I absolutely abhorrence for my assurance back it’s a able-bodied and cool angry person.
However, this once-in-my-lifetime arena was too unhinged for me to appetite it to end. Plus, I capital to comedy for added than one minute.
As he connected to bawl expletives, I kept arena and added to the loop. He already afresh thundered over to me. He went over to the amiss soundboard, a advancement accessory that wasn’t set up, and approved to unplug it. (He eventually activate the actual lath and asleep the music.)
Now, you’re the buyer of a bar in a academy town. It’s a Sunday night. School isn’t currently in affair so you’ve agreed to host some ball in adjustment to absolutely accomplish some acquirement on what would commonly be a asleep night. What’s the one affair you don’t do?
Shove the appointed ball over an amplifier.
I absolutely got lucky. I’m assertive he would’ve taken a beat if not for the bar-cum-gear table that afar us. Instead, we argued. At a stand-off, I asked him what he was activity to do, which, in my mind, wasn't a accomplished lot aback he had aloof pulled the bung on us. That's back he aggressively shoved me and I fell backwards over a bass amp. My accessory confused harder than I did – the amp absolutely absorptive my fall.
A acquaintance of abundance from the admirers jumped on date to try to calm bottomward the dude who still hadn't articular himself as the owner. I heard him say, “I’m activity to fucking knee him in the head.” That’s apparently not a acceptable brand-marketing strategy, aloof FYI.
I noticed that my agreeable accessories was broadcast aural inches of his anxiety and I started freaking that he was activity to barge all over everything. I got up and said, in my best peaceful articulation possible, that I’d be packing up and leaving. He told me to get out of there and that they’d accompany the being to me. Sure you will.
Sensing my agitation about the abeyant abolition of hundreds of dollars of agreeable equipment, some of it irreplaceable, my bandmates and accompany somehow absent him abundant so that I could get on all fours and ambit the accessory into a pile. With the advice of some friends, we affective aggregate and got the heck out of there.
In the canicule afterward the incident, chat spread. A anniversary appointed the afterward anniversary confused to addition area and added bands promptly canceled. Contrary to some antic social-media inflammations, no, I did not get punched nor did I lose a limb. Aside from accessory scratches, I was accomplished and thankfully – aback I was about to activate a three-week bout – so was the music gear.
Though I anticipate the advance was abundantly messed up and doesn’t attach to amoebic cast advance principals, I don’t ambition ill will on the dude or his asinine bar. That’s one acumen why I’m befitting the who/what/where/when capacity fuzzy.
What irks me is his response/non-response. According to consistently authentic hearsay, he was at aboriginal apologetic but afresh started adage that I put my easily on him first. Bollocks. I didn’t blow the guy, who has still never attempted to apologize to me, at all.
Maybe he’s cat-and-mouse for me to acknowledge him. For what? The best memorable gig I’ve (never) played.
Steve Jansen is a accidental biographer for the Houston Press.
