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Worst Gigs |
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'Agents'
by Chris From AFGM |
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So, it’s the early ‘70s
and I’m playing in a 3 piece pre-punk band making a lot of noise in A major
and railing against the ‘man’, the machine and social iniquity. The phone
call comes from an agent – “Got a great gig for you tonight in London”. So
at the drop of a hat off we go. We arrive in our battered old van at the
stage door of a rather salubrious joint; suspicions are raised – this is
altogether far too glitzy. We are ushered to the ‘ballroom’ of (at the time)
‘The Premier Soul Nightclub in Town’; something (in truth, lots)
isn’t right here. |
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We track down the friendly DJ who
has obviously been enjoying the full benefit of some interesting
tobacco-mixed products. After relaying our anxieties that there seems to be
a mismatch between the musical expectations of the clientele and the band,
he begins to calm our nerves with “relax, man - everybody goes down well
here”. A little relieved we ask “like who” – “well” he replies lazily “last
week we had Gladys Knight and a bit before the Four Tops”. This did not have
the calming effect he had planned. We could scarper but then we would have
been out of pocket and hungry on the way back – so, (ah, the optimism of
youth) we decided to do the gig. |
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So, cutting to the chase. Imagine
the scene that evening: a packed, well-heeled, immaculately dressed audience
dripping with ‘70s chic and sophistication’ in a fabulously glitter-lit
nightclub and 3 terrified guys on stage. We start playing (a song about the
inadequacy of social security system as I recall – yes, in A). Almost
immediately the audience begins to ‘drift’ away (some actually ran as I
recall) into the multitude of bars, gaming rooms and discos and after 8
minutes we get a message from the management’s runner that we will be paid
if we stop playing immediately.
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We begin to pack up in the empty,
and now dark, auditorium – feeling rather down and a not a little
embarrassed. But wait … through the gloom there is a couple tucked away
sitting in a side alcove. Surely, they must have enjoyed the show and
appreciated the angst-filled cries of social injustice. I walked over and
introduced myself. “Thanks for staying – I’m glad you appreciated our
stuff”. Somewhat diffidently she replied “Well, its not really my kind of
thing and I’m afraid my husband is deaf and we’re just leaving as soon as he
has fixed his hearing aid”. |
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--- The agent got his fee. |
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