adouglas
Well-known member
I know that some out there are not and have never been in a gigging band.
My current band had its first gig last Saturday. It's been quite a while since I gigged, and it reminded me of what it's really like.
Before I say anything further, despite what it sounds like IT'S WORTH IT. This is really, really big fun.
So for what it's worth to those who haven't had the pleasure...picture this.
- You do your best to sleep late and/or take a nap Saturday afternoon so you'll still be conscious at the end of the gig. Good luck with that.
- In late afternoon you head to the practice space and haul anywhere from a quarter to a half-ton of gear out of the basement and load it into your vehicle. You pray you haven't forgotten anything. Then you go eat if you can manage it, because you won't have time later on.
- You head to the venue to scope it out and then wait around, chewing your nails and still worrying about having forgotten something important, until they let you bring your gear in. If it's a bar/restaurant where people are eating near the stage, you might get an hour to get everything out of your vehicle, hauled into the venue and set up before you're expected to be ready to play.
- You hump like crazy to do this, working as fast as humanly possible and probably forgoing any sort of sound check for lack of time. Along the way you need to change out of your work clothes and into whatever you're wearing for the gig.
- You play two or three sets that can't be beat, giving it your all, jumping around like crazy and having a terrific time, utterly exhausting yourself.
- At 2 am the bar closes. You're drenched in sweat, you're nursing blisters and you're about to collapse from exhaustion. After uttering the traditional "Where are the roadies?" line, you get to reverse the whole process, tearing down that same quarter- to half-ton of gear, carting it back outside and loading it into your vehicle. You pray you haven't forgotten anything. By the end of it all you're thinking you should call George Romero because you KNOW you'd make the perfect zombie.
- You're home by 4 am. Your spouse may very well be pissed off at you for being so late. Deal with it.
- The next day you feel like you've been in a rugby match, even if you weren't drinking the night before.
- You smile quietly to yourself all day long because it was SO MUCH FUN!!!
- At some point you take all that gear back to the practice space and haul it back into the basement.
My current band had its first gig last Saturday. It's been quite a while since I gigged, and it reminded me of what it's really like.
Before I say anything further, despite what it sounds like IT'S WORTH IT. This is really, really big fun.
So for what it's worth to those who haven't had the pleasure...picture this.
- You do your best to sleep late and/or take a nap Saturday afternoon so you'll still be conscious at the end of the gig. Good luck with that.
- In late afternoon you head to the practice space and haul anywhere from a quarter to a half-ton of gear out of the basement and load it into your vehicle. You pray you haven't forgotten anything. Then you go eat if you can manage it, because you won't have time later on.
- You head to the venue to scope it out and then wait around, chewing your nails and still worrying about having forgotten something important, until they let you bring your gear in. If it's a bar/restaurant where people are eating near the stage, you might get an hour to get everything out of your vehicle, hauled into the venue and set up before you're expected to be ready to play.
- You hump like crazy to do this, working as fast as humanly possible and probably forgoing any sort of sound check for lack of time. Along the way you need to change out of your work clothes and into whatever you're wearing for the gig.
- You play two or three sets that can't be beat, giving it your all, jumping around like crazy and having a terrific time, utterly exhausting yourself.
- At 2 am the bar closes. You're drenched in sweat, you're nursing blisters and you're about to collapse from exhaustion. After uttering the traditional "Where are the roadies?" line, you get to reverse the whole process, tearing down that same quarter- to half-ton of gear, carting it back outside and loading it into your vehicle. You pray you haven't forgotten anything. By the end of it all you're thinking you should call George Romero because you KNOW you'd make the perfect zombie.
- You're home by 4 am. Your spouse may very well be pissed off at you for being so late. Deal with it.
- The next day you feel like you've been in a rugby match, even if you weren't drinking the night before.
- You smile quietly to yourself all day long because it was SO MUCH FUN!!!
- At some point you take all that gear back to the practice space and haul it back into the basement.
