All competition can be beat with passion...

All competition can be beat with passion...

This goes for all walks of life. Nothing new here.

So what, all you need to do is feel passionate about drumming, music, flipping burgers, etc and you'll beat your competition?

No...that's ridiculous. The thing is....passions make us do funny things.

I'm passionate about my wife...she's great. If I had to pick between her and sliced bread as being the greatest invention in the history of the world, she'd win hands down (and I love me some sliced bread). Having a passion for her isn't enough though. I've got to show her, work at our relationship, go the extra mile...

Same goes with business, or drumming, or whatever. If you have the passion for it, you'll do whatever it takes to make it happen. You'll put in however many long hours you need to, turn over every stone you find, take crap, give crap, FAIL, succeed, FAIL some more, practice and practice and practice, shed tears and blood...

...But the passion is where it all starts. If you don't have that, none of the other matters. That's why you get such lackluster service at the DMV...I've never met anyone that was passionate about the DMV. So you get what we all get...lackluster service, long lines, etc.

Don't ever be scared of your competition. Even if they're great at what they do, your passion can always lead you in a direction that will help you find your niche in life...the niche that was made just for you...the one that only you can fill. Once you find that, you're money. And you beat your competition at your game everytime.

It's all about putting the ball back in your court...it's all about beating them with passion.

Studio...

It's finally happened...I'm joining the infamous home studio crowd. Everyone in Nashvegas has one...just ask them...they're just as good as the big studios...just ask them...They can do everything a major studio can...just ask them...

...I have no misconceptions that my studio will rival the many $20,000 HD Pro Tool rigs that are here in town...not even gonna try. This is about what I need for my evil plan...

What are my needs?
What's the cheapest but most effective equipment I can buy that will satisfy those needs (Computers, mics, pre-amps, etc.)?
How can I utilize the room I have for maximum results?
What's the cheapest way to soundproof?


...and about a billion other questions, but that gives you an idea.

I'm simply wanting a killer setup that I can get great drum sounds out of. I'm also working on a budget, so I need to figure out how I can make my pennies scream in agony as I wring every last ounce of value out of them.

So what does this mean? Well, I've realised it means my gear won't be the newest and shiniest around (lots of it will probably be used). I probably won't have the top of the line mics that I want (I'm planning on borrowing some until I have my own...utilize favors). I'll probably not be able to finish out my studio (immediately anyways) in my dream fashion...

Again, I could go on but there's no need to. I'm simply wanting to get a good work space up and running, period. The goal is to keep my gear accumulation up front to about $3000 (computer, mics, interface, lines, software, and video...yes, video). The buildout in the room is going to be minimal. I'll be finishing out my garage (see pic above)...running A/C and heat in there, sealing it off, soundproofing, painting, etc...quite a job, but well worth.

So why do you care? I have no pretensions that you do. And I don't mind one bit if you don't read any of the posts about it...I'm just wanting to explain how you can take very minimal means and creat a great workspace. So if you're interested, keep an eye out in the near future. If you're not, go read the newspaper...fine by me either way.

If I Could Only Make Black People Dance...

People lose jobs everyday, especially in the market we're currently in. And they lose them for lots of reasons...maybe they show up late, don't perform at the desired level, take too many smoke breaks, watch porn at work, call the boss an idiot while simultaneously posting a twit pic of his head superimposed over a woman, spend too much on the company account, sleep with the boss' wife...you know, regular stuff.

I've never been fired...ever....but I came really close one time...really close. You would immediately jump to the conclusion that I had done one of the above mentioned tasks...if only it had been that simple.

You see, when you're the drummer for the house band in a dance club, one thing is important...you have to make people DANCE...otherwise, it's a stand club, and those can be real downers...standing and consuming alcohol isn't nearly as entertaining as doing the white mans underbite while awkwardly grinding on your favorite woman...or at least your favorite at that particular club...ok, it doesn't even have to be your favorite at this point, just one that lets you accost her with your "moves"...when you've got beer goggles on, it just has to lack an Adams apple and a bulge and we're good to go...then again, it was Bourbon Street, and those last two specifications didn't matter to some...Change of criteria: if it doesn't have chairs around it it's probably fair game.

I've strayed...oh yea, back to the point of this quickly plummeting post...

In order to make someone dance a drummer must possess one thing...not killer chops, not cool hair, not the latest and greatest kit...yes, that's right...you must possess GROOVE (See "Steve Gadd" in the dictionary)...DUM-DUM-DUMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!

One problem...go ahead, ask someone how to get groove...

"You just gotta feel it man!"

Brilliant.

The drummer for the night band, Jeff, (we played 4-9, they were on from 9-whenever people passed out and were dragged back to their hotel rooms) came over to my house one night...he was also my teacher at the time. Yes, I had pretty much the best learning setup ever...but he came over to give me a heads up...I was fixin to lose my job.

"Why?!"

"People ain't dancin'...you've gotta get people to dance."

"How?!"

"Groove man, you gotta get your groove on."

"How do I find my groove?!"

"You just gotta feel it man..."

Brilliant.

I was freaked out...I had moved to NOLA by myself, I was 19 and only knew one person there (and he was telling me I was fixing to lose my job, so I wasn't particularly fond of him at the moment), and didn't really have the gig knowledge, connections, or experience to go out and land another gig by myself. I was tweaked...I didn't know what to do.

I lay awake all night that night...thinking, turning things over in my mind, trying to find my groove...

With his help I started on a journey I'm still participating in now...the journey to groove. I began to completely emerse myself in the music we were performing...I listened to it over, and over, and over, and over, and over...I listened to the hi-hat only, then the bass drum only, then just the snare...why were they doing the things they were doing? What made people want to dance to "Brick House" everytime it came on but when I played no one danced? Why couldn't I have been born an African American, therefore being given unlimited natural groove powers that I could use at my own discretion?

I would mimick these recordings repeatedly...I would play "Funky Music" all the way through with only my hi-hat, then just the bass drum part...I had to find out why this groove was universally danceable.

At the same time I was also having to continue to play these songs live five hours a day, 5-6 days a week...do you even know how discouraging it is to perform a job everyday with the knowledge that you're doing it wrong and having no idea how to fix it? Not to mention if I lost this gig I had NO money...I was going to starve for lack of groove...This seemed ridiculous...

Then one day I devised a plan...an evil plan...one that just might work...

"Black folks have rhythm...If I could just make them dance I'd know I was onto something..."

I would watch the black patrons we had come in...they were like rocks when I played...take the same person and come back that evening when Jeff was playing and they'd be laughing and drinking and...DANCING! I couldn't get them to move if I picked them up and shook them...it was horrible.

Day in and day out I would single them out...I'd change something I was doing and pay attention to their reactions...were they tapping their foot? Were they nodding their head? Swaying back and forth? Throwing up while having to watch this white kid try to play the drums...

And then one day it happened...the guy started moving a bit...what was I doing?! How could I replicate it on every song?!

As I emersed myself in the style of music we were playing and watched the crowds, things began to change. I began to change. My playing began to change. The things I worked on at that time were very small in comparison to what I normally practised...but they revolutionised my playing.

I wound up never losing my job...I found a groove, my groove. The key was that I accepted the criticism and ran with it. I wanted to figure out how I could fix it. And it helped that I wouldn't be eating if I didn't fix it. That's a different kind of urgency.

So here's to the black man. Here's to their rhythm. And here's to them saving my job by helping me find my groove...

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Why I Don't Want to be Called Catalina...

"I don't need cocaine to make life go by any faster"...at least that's what I thought walking back to my car from the gig that night.

It's no secret...you hang around the music "scene" long enough and you're gonna run into situations where the "hard stuff" is present (Forgive the excessive use of quotation marks). They don't tell you about that in college. At least that's been my experience. If you've gone through a career in music and never had to deal with it, kudos. I've been playing clubs since i was 16...and it seems to be a recurring theme.

I'll try to keep this from sounding like a PSA announcement...

I'm sure you've heard me say...I moved down to NOLA about as green as a person can be. Bourbon Street was a rough place. I guess it's fun...if you come in for a weekend trip, party hard, throw some beads and go home.

It's a completely different animal when you work in it. You're the life of the party...you're the energy. If the clubs not full, managers are lookin' at the band. If the people aren't dancin' and partyin', managements lookin at you...etc. Even if you don't party hard every night, the energy and appearance of a good time should still be portrayed. Easy trap to fall into...drink a few too many every night...smoke a lil too much...just try it one time...need the energy...

...and before you know it, you're a fifty-five year old, cross dressing, cracked out keyboard player. You laugh...I knew one......

Anyways, back to that night I was talking about. I was in between house gigs and was doing a good bit of pickup work. I had picked up a night shift with a band at the Krazy Korner. A finer lineup of personel could be found nowhere...I had pet names for them all (none of which i called to their faces...)

Crackhead Chris: Guitars...he wasn't all there. That's what crack does to you.

Cocaine Hank: Fearless Bass player...had this nasty habit of hanging over my hi-hat and staring at me intently. Serious encroachement of the personal space...Really unnerving...Suffered from frequent nosebleeds...

Crosseyed Willy: I didn't make that one up...he was really crosseyed and that's what some folks called him. I'm not pokin fun, just stating the facts. He was a short, perverted black guy with horribly crossed eyes. To cue me he would look at the side bar (I was behind him)...It took me weeks to figure out he was trying to get my attention...

and me on drums...

Anyways, we were on the second break. I had wandered to the stock room where the band hung out to get away from the crowds. I was sippin' on some of my tonic of choice (Diet Coke at the time) when I noticed Crackhead Chris and Cocaine Hank huddled in the corner. I figured they were busy rolling a joint...they had that look about them. For some reason I hollered over at Cocaine Hank to get his attention about some inconsequential thing...

He looked up at me...he had some white stuff smeared below his nose...

"Hey Hank, you've got somethin' on your face man," I said... Wait. So that's what that looks like.

"You want some of this? It'll keep ya up during the next set."

It was my first encounter with it. I'd been around weed, X, alcohol...granted I never took part...For some reason I was always a little scared to touch any of it. I think I knew deep down I might actually like it, like the feeling it gave me...best to just steer clear.

"Nah, I think I'm good. Maybe I'll just chug a Red Bull"

I wandered off to the bar to refill my Diet Coke.

The next set was fast...really fast. Every song was about twice the album tempo. What would you expect? I had a rhythm section that had just snorted a bunch of cocaine...life was flyin by for them. All I can remember is being in the middle of "Sweet Home Alabama" with Cocaine Hank hangin over my hihat screaming "It's too slow...we've gotta pick it up!" It wasn't too slow...that's the fastest i've ever played that song...but then again, I've never played that song on cocaine.

I left Hank in an empty bar that night. They had closed down and the barbacks were cleaning up from the festivities. He was pacing back and forth the length of the bar, playing store licks at lightning speed through the PA, completely coked out of his mind, talking ninety miles a minute...

The next gig I played with him he was wiping a nosebleed the whole night.

I moved back home to finish college and came back one weekend to visit. Stopped into the Famous Door to see who was on the afternoon shift...it was Hank and his band. He looked awful. He must have dropped 20-30 pounds since I'd seen him last...sunken eyes, dazed look...

All of the cliche D.A.R.E. sayings were coming to mind..."Crack is wack"...etc.

I wish I could say he was the only friend I had that was messed up in some stuff. Wish I could say that. I'm trying to think back to how many there were...I don't remember...

...we'd have to go get them out of their apartments from a weekend binge just so they'd make the gig...go look for them and find them in a parking lot somewhere, wife and kids worried and waiting at home...they'd come in with their face all busted up from a run in with one of their "buddies"...Asking bandmembers follow them home to make sure they wouldn't stop at their favorite corners...

You get the picture. It's why I left NOLA. I didn't want to wind up age 55 with a crack habit, sporting an orange dress in my free time, with a nickname like Catalina (I really wish I was makin this stuff up...)

And that's what I've always thought, the same thought I had that night walking to my car...life goes by quick enough. I don't need anything to speed it up. I already feel like I'm missing some of it, why would I want to blank out and miss some of the best experiences?

If that's what it takes to be creative, I'm out. But it's not necessary...you know that, I know that, the people that are involved in it know that...they're just caught up in a vicious cycle.

Do yourself a favor...steer clear of it...

A FAIL Story...

I was thinking about my most embarrassing moments on stage a few days ago, and remembered one I had tucked way back into the deep recesses of my mind...

I'm 19...Bourbon Street in NOLA...I had been with this band for a couple of weeks. It was a full 7 piece band (bass, guitar, vocals, drums, and 3 horns) and we played alot of top 40 schlock (EWF, James Brown, Gap Band, etc...). Great group and I was the youngest BY FAR...next closest to my age was mid twenties and the oldest was 50-something...and I was GREEN...so green...we're talkin' neon-too-green-to-look-at green...it was bad. But I was learning.

The biggest deal for me was knowledge of the set list. most of the songs we were playing had been hits before I was even a twinkle in the eye of my parents. Lots of catchup for me...the list was roughly 50 tunes deep and I knew maybe 5 coming into it.

Anyways, back to the memory...we played a version of "Smooth" by Carlos Santana. In the middle we went into a horn break and the rhythm section went into a Samba type feel...simple, right? I had never rehearsed it with them, they just told me about the section on the break and we were gonna go into it live...

Middle of the second verse...palms are sweaty...hearts racing...

That particular section comes barreling at me and I throw in a fill to lead into the Samba section...uh-oh...something is horribly wrong...the horns are falling out one by one...the bass player is hollering something at me...everyone's glaring at yours truly...this went on for roughly 3 hours. Ok, maybe about 5 seconds...nonetheless, it was a long time in my mind. Finally the guitarist kicked his amp and crashed into the chorus....slowly everyone stumbled back into the tune...

What happened?

I had committed the carnal latin sin...I had REVERSED THE SAMBA!!! (cue dramatic music and gasps)

Instead of boom-chick-boomboom-chick-boom...it was chick-boomboom-chick-boomboom...that's what they were yelling...the horns thought they were lost, the bass player was trying to get me to turn it back around, and the guitarist probably would have shot me had the opportunity presented itself.

I slithered defeatedly out the door on our break to assume my spot on the outside wall...that's where I watched all of the street craziness happen...

Bobby O (sax player...he used to run a few big bands at Disney World) came outside after a while and leaned on the wall next to me...silent...saying nothing...or was he yelling? The silence was quite loud, having trouble remembering...

I stumbled through some sort of an apology. He kindly (which wasn't his nature) said,"Don't worry about it. That happens. You wanna know what the worst part was?"

There was a worse part than the embarrassment I was feeling at this moment?!

"What?" I asked slowly...

"Raymond Weber had just walked through the door to check us out."

This was bad. This was real bad. I knew for a fact that Raymond had heard about the new kid on the street and had come to check me out...why this night? Why that song? WHY?!?!?!

Raymond was a local drumming god...played with Harry Connick Jr, Dave Matthews, lots of others...I had been planning on impressing him since I had moved down.

Impress I did...I mean, not a good impression, but I'm sure I made some sort of impression on him...

I was embarrassed for weeks...The whole time I lived in NOLA I never got the courage to strike up a conversation with Raymond because of that moment.

And what did I learn?

Work on your samba?

I probably learned what every other musician, or artist, or businessman, or entrepreneur learns...mistakes happen...sometimes in front of important people. Always have, always will. Accept it. Learn what you can from them. Drown your sorrows in twinkies and chocolate milk for a few days and make sure THAT mistake never happens again, then hold your head up high...

...and don't let past mistakes affect future relationships and progress...yea, I guess that's what I learned...

...and the Samba...I also learned my Samba inside and out the next day...

Video of the Week (or Month...it's been a while...)

This is just funny...that's all...

Starving Artist Denial Syndrome...or the SADS...

I was thinking about this the other night for some reason...It happened a few years back when I was playing for my church...I do this often. Keeps me grounded, let's me give some of my talent back, and is part of my threefold philosophy with drumming...

PHILOSOPHY:

There are 3 types of gigs that you should be involved with at all times...

1) Paid (The most popular by far)

2) Experience (These are sometimes paid, but oftentimes when they are it's not much...these are the learning times. That group you took on because the music was really challenging or you saw it would give you the chance to stretch out a bit in the music...yada yada yada...)

3) Unpaid/Charitable (Church, Christmas volunteer stuff, etc...)

I was playing with a bass player I had played with once before and I couldn't remember his name. After rehearsal we exchanged niceties and I got his name again...we'll call him Fluff...and asked him what he did for a living, to which he replied, "Well, I'm a bass player...you know, lots of studio stuff, some live stuff..."

Cool, great work if you can get it, albeit rarely stable work.

So here's the problem I had...I knew for a fact that playing wasn't all Fluff did for a living. How, you might ask, did I know that?

Rewind a few weeks...I was working my cash job (go here to see what that means). I'm a personal trainer and not ashamed to say it. That brings in the majority of the cash money at my house. Music brings in some too, but as you know, I re-vamped how I'm doing things a couple of years ago...

Anyways, I was working my cash job...and Fluff was working out in the same room I was training my client in (I casually brought my gym up in conversation later just to make sure this was the same guy...). I guess he overheard us talking about my kid. He grabbed one of his business cards and popped over to tell me how I needed to get my son some of whatever it was he was trying to sell me (it was some useless commodity that no child really needs...like a life insurance plan or something like that...life insurance for me, check. Life insurance for my 2 year old, probably not...)...it was obvious this guy sold a good bit of this stuff, he had cards, an office, yada yada...

So why did he tell me he played music full time? Why was he afraid to tell me he sold such and such commodity as well as played music?

Seems I run into alot of folks like this in Nashvegas...



They're in the second stage of what I like to call the Starving Artist Denial Syndrome...or the SADS (the first stage is when they are actually in fact starving from lack of work and unwilling to get a job that will allow them to eat anything besides ramen noodles)...they can't face up to the fact that they haven't positioned themselves within the musical market well enough to have a steady stream of income from it, so they go get a "real" job and convince others that they really are , in fact, working full time as a musician, this other work is just extra.



Rock on Kennedy.

They're scared too...they have no clue how they'll be able to ever get music to be a full time thing. Only thing they can come up with is maybe they'll land that dream road gig...or become "the" session player in town...or whatever...and this job will just "get them through the lean times"...all of which they have no actual control over.

So what did I say when he asked what I did?



I told him I was a personal trainer. Period.



Do I play music for pay? Sure. Do I make well at it? Some months more so than others. Do I have a game plan for increasing my capacity and pay in the musical arena? You freakin' bet I do (Watch this space...)

I gave up a long time ago trying to convince people that I played full time when in fact I didn't. What was I gaining from lying? Absolutely nothing...it just made me feel like a moron for not having more gigs. The real problem was that I didn't have any sovereignty over my work...I didn't say when I played, for how much, for whom, etc...I was waiting on the calls, and that sucks and is never steady.

So 2 years ago I took on personal training.

One of the best things I've ever done. I say who I work with, when I work, when I'm off, how much I work for. And that goes for music now as well...if I don't want to take a gig because I don't like the players or it doesn't pay quite enough for me to "want" to do it, I don't. Period.

It was a huge ego hit at first...I went through some mad depression about it...all because I tied my self worth to my playing.

YOU'RE WORTH MORE THAN HOW WELL YOU PLAY OR HOW MUCH YOU'RE PLAYING.

The sooner you get that through your skull the better.

So why did Fluff's denial bother me so much? Because I don't think he knows HOW to make the music thing work. I don't think he's figured out how to gain sovereignty over his playing and career. Have I? Not fully, but I've got a better idea than 90% of the folks out there waiting for gigs...

and how do I know that?

I'm way happier than most of them. Very content with where my career is and where it's headed. In no rush to get there because I want it to look just like the image of my career I have in my head. I love my original project I'm involved with...I love playing at the church I do (they have so many killer players there!)...I dig the session work I've been doing...the road work and live gigs I've been doing have been top notch on so many levels...etc...

So when should you face up to the fact that your career isn't what it should be and start taking steps to fix that?



I don't know...I'm still figuring things out for myself...it's different for everyone...it's a huge step, but one well worth taking. You owe it to yourself ...and to the rest of the world... to reach your full potential.



It's like George Bernard Shaw said:


"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man."

I've decided to be the unreasonable man nowadays...

Failure Is The New L.A...

Have you worked on your FAIL today?

Sure, alot of times it is the best that succeed. But you know what I find? Most of the "best" are really just the most persistent that kept at it until they were perceived by the rest of the world as the "best". Thomas Edison was the best...and he was also the most persistent...and he was one of the biggest failures ever...he failed thousands of times...and you know what he said when asked how it felt to fail at something over 10,000 times?

"I didn't fail 10,000 times, I simply discovered 10,000 ways that it wouldn't work."

So he was the best...and the most persistent...but I guess if you look at it in that light (no pun intended) he was also a FAILURE.

Hmmmm...

I think this pertains to drumming and music in the biggest way...

What else are we doing with our practice time? We find something that we are failing at (i.e. single strokes, funk grooves, stick twirling...you know, the important stuff...) and then we set about fixing the FAIL.

Do you know how long it took me to play 5 over 4 smoothly? MONTHS! And what was the payoff you might ask? When I started I had no clue...I just knew I had heard something in my head, couldn't play it, and that needed to be fixed. After I established that I could in fact play 5 over 4, it was only then that I realized what it had done for me. All of a sudden my subdivisions were coming easier to me...the ones we use all of the time... My independence was going through the roof...my thinking was more precise and accurate...

I've used 5 over 4 in a playing situation maybe four times in the 5 years since I learned how to play it...but who cares. I took something that I FAILED at and turned it into something that I was good at...only after I did that could I see the applications available to me for using it. Do you think that Edison knew all of the applications for the light bulb when he made it? Absolutely not! He just thought it would be cool to have some safe light once the sun went down!

We all too often see failure as a negative, and I'm suggesting that you start to view that word in the positive category. Once you FAIL you know what needs work...

ALMOST EVERY GREAT SUCCESS IN LIFE WAS PRECEEDED BY A FAILURE.

If you know of one that wasn't, please enlighten me.

You don't really have to be the best..you just have to be the most persistent. Persistence takes alot more time...and patience...and planning...and waiting...and work...

Being the best is hard too, but give me a decent player with lots of FAIL in their past and a killer work ethic anyday over a GREAT one with a lackluster approach to life, a lethargic nature, and no FAIL.

So go ahead...why don't you go FAIL at something today? It would be alot more interesting and productive than spitting out some garbage you've been rehearsing for the past 4 years...to be the best you have to make yourself the worst...you have to push yourself to the places you haven't been...

YOU HAVE TO GET BETTER AT YOUR FAIL!!!

I've got a few new rudiments that I need to go FAIL at for a while actually...

Seth's Thought's On Your Hat...

This is Seth Godin's (he has one of the widest read marketing blogs in the world) latest blog entry...I love his stuff. When I post stuff that doesn't seem to directly pertain to drumming or music, it's because I'm wanting you to THINK. Open up your mind, explore possibilities...I don't know many musicians in Nashville that wear just one hat...it takes several to make things work...and sometimes those hats don't have anything to do with drumming (GASP, HORROR, SCREAMS!!!)...

Ms. In-between
The either-or world continues to decay, confronted by a shifting economy and the tools of the net.

It used to be easy to tell if someone was a journalist. Either you were or your weren't. So giving special privileges to journalists was easy. Parking permits, press badges, first amendment protections... no problem, you're a journalist. Everyone else? No way.

It used to be easy to tell if someone was an entrepreneur. Either you had a full-time job or you ran a business. So we could treat employees the same (health insurance, no moonlighting) and assume that the few that didn't have jobs were full-time freelancers or entrepreneurs.

It used to be easy to figure out who did the buying at an organization. The purchasing department did. So we knew who to call on.

Now, of course, it's all jumbled up. Everyone is a journalist, of course, but just a few do it for a living. Everyone is a freelancer, or, at the very least, always looking for the next gig. Everyone with a credit card can do the purchasing, they just expense it.

Society hates this. It means we need to make up new rules, FTC disclosures, legal principles, safety nets and more.

Marketers love this, because it means change and that means opportunity.

If the only reason you're only wearing one hat is because you've always only worn one hat, that's not a good reason.

Bourbon Street, Bands, and Deuschbags...

When I was 19 I landed a gig with a band on Bourbon Street in New Orleans (Check out some pics of the street here)...We played 5-6 nights a week, 5 hour shifts, 3 hour and a half sets with 2 thirty minute breaks. This was THE gig that got me together as a player and put me on the level I wanted to be at...and did I mention it was on Bourbon Street? If you've never been there, and you'd like to take a break from reality, by all means...be my guest...

I grew up a pastors son in deep South Mississippi...if you want to call it sheltered you could...oh yea, and I was home schooled most of my life also? Ok, I lived a sheltered childhood, whatever. Bourbon was about as far removed from what I'd grown up with as I could have gotten. People came there to lose their minds at the airport and then picked them up on their way back to their "normal" life. One of the club managers asked me one night after a week long break what I had been doing..."Just normal stuff...just being normal..." To which he replied "what's normal?" And I just thought "Not this buddy, not this..."

Anyways, it was a wild ride...lots of beads, boobs, alcohol, debauchery, etc...I was only 19, so I had a first class sober seat for this ride...which is the difference between me and 99% of the other folks on that street...I remember it all...

I was on the 4:30-9:30 shift one day at the BBC (Bourbon Street Blues Company)...the band was called RTL (it stood for Redneck Trucker Love...I'll delve into the story sometime about how I had to learn 64 songs in 2 and a half days for that audition...)...good group, played everything from classic rock to current rock, blues, whatever...At this time in the day we played to a mostly seated crowd that just wanted to get away from the oppressive cajun heat and humidity.

Out of the right corner of my eye I caught them coming in...we'll call them Deuschbags 1, 2, and 3 (DS for short)...all of them were pretty muscular guys, the kind you might run into at any of the identical frat parties happening across college campuses, and they were dressed accordingly...

DS1 was wearing an American flag bikini top with tight daisy duke American flag bottoms, tennis shoes, lipstick, sunglasses, and topped it off with a curly blonde wig...he was also carrying a large jar of pink liquid with bright red chunks floating inside. More on this later...

DS2 was the most conservatively dressed, or so it seemed...He had on full face makeup (think your everyday, run of the mill streetwalker)and a conservative bright red minidress with red high heels...not too bad...

DS3 was the "man" of the group...he was out caveman style...Had on a Tarzan suit, leopard print, barefoot, and was using one of the cups from a local bar that served a drink they called the "Hand Grenade" (a highly potent green concoction of liquor poured into a glass with a skinny neck about 2 feet in length...pic here) as a caveman club...

Keep in mind it was 4:30 in the afternoon...hardly late enough for these types of shenanigans...

They were a loud group, much to the chagrin of the calm folks seated at the bar...jumping around, hollering, jumping on stage, flashing the audience (apparently DS2 had forgotten that proper ladies wear underwear underneath their dresses...our female lead singer was having fun with him...thank God I was at the back of the stage and he was facing the other way. I missed his "show"...)

The next few minutes were a blur...

we kicked into AC/DC's "Back in Black"...and they kicked into overdrive...

I was looking down for some reason when I heard the crash...I looked up to see what had happened and was suddenly transported into some sort of GWAR type ordeal. Our singer was holding onto his mike for dear life, his feet slipping out from under him due to the thick coating of broken glass and slime that now covered the floor...the bass player was hollering for the doorman and pointing towards said deuschbags...my guitarist was screaming profanities at DS1, 2, and 3 and kicking large, soft reddish chunks out into the audience while trying to keep his footing. And then the smell hit me...it was like rotten pickles mixed with decaying flesh and feces...

...we're still playing "Back in Black"...

The loud music, the smells, the deuschbags going crazy


...It was pickled pigs parts...the jar I mean.

It was full of pickled pigs parts and pickled slush juice...and DS2 had decided to launch it onstage. We ended the song, all 3 deuschbags were kicked out, and we took a break.

So what did I learn from this?

I don't know...don't let 3 guys exotically dressed up carrying jars of pickled pigs parts into your club? Maybe I wasn't supposed to learn anything. That was actually not too suprising of an afternoon on Bourbon Street. And I played there for 3 years...I have ALOT of these stories...

So even on my worst gig, I always think "At least no one's got a jar of pig..."