Ouch. This really has to hurt.
AP - Police say a woman singing karaoke in a Connecticut sports bar was attacked by six other women who didn't like her performance ...
That's a tough audience.
In my "other life" I'm a musician. Been doing that for a while, nearly 25 years. I've fielded bands that ranged from the really good to the downright awful. I mean some of these bands -- particularly in the early days -- sounded like geese farts on a muggy day. We've been fired from plenty of gigs back in the old days, been shorted on the cash a time or two, seen the tip bucket get stolen a couple of times, and had a lot of fun in the process. Playing music is, well, nice work if you can get it.
David Owens, a singer/guitarist I've had the privilege of working with a few years ago, brings a sunny disposition to the gig. Always upbeat, always in a good mood, and he tends to spread it among the band members and the audience. He does a few odd jobs here and there, but he plays music for a living and he loves his lot in life. What other job is there, he asks, where you can work 45 minutes then take a break? Go three or four hours and call it a day? Do those things you love to do and call it work?
Even if you have to "do Freebird" an awful lot.
Now, that's a joke among musicians. Freebird is southern rock band Lynrd Skynrd's most popular song, and every band in the world knows it. It's guitar-driven, with a twin guitar lead for the out solo. And when you're playing in public, you can almost guarantee someone will ask for that song. Doesn't matter if your band doesn't even have a lead guitar player, folks will still ask.
You remember the movie "Road House" (with the late Patrick Swayze), where the band is playing from behind chicken wire? I've never seen that in real life; the club owner usually won't go to such great lengths for the band's welfare. But I keep flashing back to some scary venues where I've plied my trade ...
... like the club in California that had an armed, uniformed security guy at the door. He was tougher than tough. Carried a .44 mag on one hip, a stun gun on the other. I watched from the stage as he applied the stun gun on one bar patron. It wasn't pretty.
... like the bar that had dartboards on the wall behind the stage. More than once I caught myself looking between songs to make sure the darts hadn't moved.
... like the outdoor street festival a few years ago, on a rainy day. We stood under a canopy, had the sound equipment in the covered bed of a truck, and we got a few songs out before we started hearing ominous crackling sounds coming from the speakers. Rather than fry the sound system, we terminated the performance.
... like the all-black club in San Bernardino. The only people I knew were in the band, and the patrons initially viewed me as someone who, well, didn't belong there. I was given this look like, you'd better sound real good if you want to live. I must have sounded all right -- as David would say after a particularly good gig, "tricked 'em again."
... like the bar that had a stage big enough for three people, and we ran a 10-piece band in there a few times. To go to the bathroom you had to squeeze between the guitarist and the horn section.
Sometimes the venue is OK, but the band itself is scary...
... like the time my vocalist got drunk and began waving a gun on stage. We hit the floor real fast.
But none of us ever got attacked by a bar patron, not for sounding bad anyway. Of course, if a band member makes a move on some fella's girl, all bets are off and none of this counts anyway.
With a band you're getting paid for all this so expectations are higher. Karaoke is a whole 'nother thing. Many of the singers are doing this on a whim, fueled by that high-octane social icebreaker, and if it sounds good it's purely accidental.
But a tough audience is still a tough audience.
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