Where Have I Been?
KDOG played a record number of gigs this summer. I spent my summer working on my book about all this, which will be called "Never Too Old, Always Too Loud: A Long-Haired, Pill-Popping, Guitar-Mangling Idiot at 50." Between May and October, I brought the manuscript to 40,000 words. Then I wrote a 150-page proposal and started trying to find an agent. This meant writing query letters and suffering rounds of form-letter rejections. I don't recommend writing a book while employing yourself as a professional writer. You're running everything off one set of batteries. Something had to go. That was the Geezer Rock Blog. Coming posts will feature audio clips of me reading excerpts from the manuscript.
I'll also recap the best and worst moments of our many summer gigs. We reached our goal of becoming a working band. We even made a little money, although not one dollar actually reached my pockets. It's been three years of stupid fights, seasoned with occasional moments of actual rocking.
News: the band now has a website with sound clips. Check it out here.
What have I learned about going from the garage to the stage in middle age?
Forget About Recapturing Your Youth
It’s impossible. And why would you want to be 17 again? You
were a dork with no money and a volcanic landscape of zits. Only join a band if
you want to live in the here and now. If you’re fat and bald, make it work in
your favor. Gain more weight and climax
your gigs by faking a heart attack. Have actors dressed as EMTs perform CPR,
then “come back to life” and do The Clash’s “Death or Glory” for an encore.
Rock is More Work Than Work
Plan on at least 50 rehearsals a year. The typical gig is
five to seven hours of lifting, loading, setting up, tearing down and
reloading. That leaves maybe three hours for rocking.
Nobody Hires You For Being Talented
Club owners only hire you so they can make money off of your
efforts. You can be the worst band in town, but if you bring 100 people to
every show, club owners will love you. Private parties want a human jukebox,
not an artist.
You’re Only As Good As Your Drummer
The typical club crowd can’t tell the difference between
Carlos Santana and the guitar-playing robotic rodent at Chuck E. Cheese. But
even the most inebriated barfly knows if “it’s got a good beat and you can
dance to it.” Kenton's operating under a lot of pressure, all the time.
You’re Supposed to Sell Out
Rock snobs whine about “authenticity” and the
soul-destroying effects of “selling out.” Any musician can be pure, obscure and
broke. What’s really hard is being wildly popular and profitable. Promoting
your band is even more important than practicing.
Entertain or Die
It is called “show
business.” But most middle-aged rock bands forget to put on a show. They dress
like slobs and exude the charismatic stage presence of Alan Greenspan. If
you’re too cool to put on a show, stay home. As Angus Young of AC/DC says, “If
nothing else works, you’ve go to try tap dancing.” Howling’ Wolf’s Coke bottle
trick is a cheap and effective gimmick. Shake up a Coke bottle and stuff it in
your pants. At the climactic moment of a song, pop the top and ejaculate “The
Real Thing” into the audience. What a crowd pleaser! The Long-Suffering Mrs. Chance informed me, "If you put a Coke bottle down your pants, I'm divorcing you."
Hell is Other People
A rock band combines the dysfunctional misery of your family
and work relationships. You name it, your band will experience it: power
struggles, inability to communicate, passive-aggressive retaliation, pouting,
sibling rivalry, ego clashes, whining, substance abuse, poor anger management,
finger pointing and all-around bad attitudes.
Rock is a Business
Rock stars aren’t rebels – they’re ruthless careerists. The
Rolling Stones know more about brand management than the CEO of Proctor and
Gamble. A rock band is a small business. Develop a marking plan. Draft a
mission statement. (The mission statement for my band is “Everywhere We Go
There’s A Party.”) Show up on time. Be prepared. Get a lawyer to draft
contracts. Think seriously about a urine-testing program. And always get paid in advance at clubs. Club owners are
sharp-dealing rascals who will try to short you $100 because “the door wasn’t
what we expected.”
You're Not a Rock Star
Most people simply ignore us at the typical gig. The band is like the free bowl of Goldfish crackers on the bar: something that goes nice with beer.
We Sound Better Playing Outdoors
No one ever complains that we're too loud when the band plays outside. Unfortunately, it's winter now.
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