Good morning...

Quite a few years back I used to play guitar in many different bands. It was fun. I would get calls to play with the same musicians but in different configurations. This was at a time when PA systems were not small and very expensive for one individual to own so most groups would rent. Now a days you can go down to Guitar Center and buy something much better and much smaller for about $500. Back then it was more like $5000.

So I got a call to go play a Mental Health department (MHD) christmas party. The money was good even after the PA rental and the drive wasn't too bad. So I showed up for the gig and we setup all the equipment and as we were getting ready to start the director of the MHD came by to introduce herself. She was a little white headed lady who was about five feet nothing if she was that tall. A nice grandmotherly type. She informed us that there was a budgetary mix up and that they only had half the money that we were promised in the contract and that she would understand it if we left and didn't play. Well now the other guys wanted to play the gig anyway since we were already there and setup. I reluctantly agreed. But man I was pissed.

When we got up on stage I announced that the name of the band was "Peter and the Pedifiles" and that were were there for their dining and dancing pleasure. The drummer fell off his drum thrown with a crash. He was laughing so hard that he couldn't help but fall backwards. He gained some composer a little and got back on his thrown. I started playing the intro lick to a Sonny Boy Williamson song called "Good Morning Little Schoolgirl", the boys joined in after the first four measures and I started singing:

"Good morning little schoolgirl, can I come home with you
Tell your moma and your papa, I'm a little schoolboy too
Come on now pretty baby, I just can't help myself
You're so young and pretty, I don't need nobody else
Good morning little schoolgirl, can I come home with you
Don't you hear me crying"

The boys could hardly play because they were laughing so hard. But we made it through the song and onto the next and so on. All through the evening I did my best to torture those poor people. Singing wrong lyrics to the song and making up lyrics about people standing near the stage. The place was filed with young bohemian girls trying to save the world. At one point I was asked to announce that food had been served. (The band was not allowed to eat.) So in the PA I said "This one is for all you potato sack sandal wearing bitches in the back. The pulled pork is ready, fresh off the hog!" Knowing full well that most of them are vegan or vegetarian. I received ugly looks from the what was left of the crowd. Bummer.

During the breaks I would follow the director around ( you remember the nice little blue haired lady?) and made humping gestures when she wasn't looking so the boys in the band could see me. She caught me once and turned and shook her finger saying "your a very sick young man mister, a very sick young man. You need professional help." Thanks. That's when I informed her of her mistake of telling the band that you are cutting their pay in half BEFORE they play. Contracts are worthless anyway, you would only end up in small claims court and maybe win. They still don't have to pay you even if you do win. This seemed like more fun anyway.

I did other things that night, most of them I don't remember. There you have the sort of funny highlights.

We were never asked back. Well at least I wasn't. I know what I did was bad but I was young and man did they piss me off. If you were there in the audience, I am sorry. Sort of. :)

I will have to tell you about my experiences playing in a country band. Yee haw.