What was your worst gig experience?

[NotScott]

This one resulted in a cancelled gig and getting banned from the club but is kind of funny.

Back in the day, my band at the time played at a restaurant/resort at the Jersey shore. Our first few shows there were great! We packed the house and always had a great crowd. There was this one hottie who tended bar who I always chatted up and hoped to hook up with.

We were booked there on the Memorial Day weekend and I found out my bartender was working lunch but would be off before 5. So I decided to come down early while the road crew setup and spend some time with her.

After a few drinks, she invites me into the hot tub out near the pool. The road crew had finished setting up and were lounging around in the pool with a couple of the staff.

Our soundman finished testing the PA and we all hear this cursing and swearing match going on between our soundman and the venue owner. Apparently our soundman took the liberty of moving some portable bars to better place the PA and then tested it at warp 10 volume which resulted in a screaming match with the owner and several F bombs being exchanged. The soundman then comes outside and said that's it, were out of here, while the owner follows him cursing and swearing in English and Greek. He immediately sees our crew in the pool with some of his staff and flips out. He grabs the pool net and starts swatting at them to get out.

He then spots me and my bartender in the hot tub. She immediately tells me in a terrified voice that I have to go right now. As the raving lunatic is waving a pool net around he looks at me and the bartender in the hot tub and says in his best Grenglish, "You some of a beach, you want to fook around with my daughter, eh?" When an angry man looks at you and says "my daughter", you understand what fear really is. Needless to say I garbed my clothes and ran my ass off with this crazy old Greek man chasing me and swearing at me while waving this pool net around.

Peter, our manager, was another Greek guy and he happened to arrive just as all of the fun was happening. Despite the gift of gab and Greek connection, Peter couldn't save the gig and we were told to leave and never invited back again. Although I wasn't too happy about losing a holiday gig that paid well at a primo club, I was really pissed off that I didn't even get a chance to leave my number with the owner's daughter and never saw her again.

This just reminded me of a few more stories...........

 

[NotScott]

There was this one club we used to play at that seemed to be a story magnet. The place was located in a not so nice city in the basement of an old office building. Load in was via a long, narrow staircase that everyone on the circuit hated.

We hired a couple of hippies as our road crew. These guys were stone cold hippies right down to the clothes, the language and the all-consuming passion for weed. Pat, the older one, had a mid 60s Chevy coupe that he painted in a psychedelic paisley scheme that covered every inch of the exterior. This car was insane and attracted attention wherever it went! He had lines from songs and poems painted in the swirly designs on the car. He welded some soup cans to the hood to simulate velocity stacks. The tire sidewalls were painted pink and had black labeling that said NARC STOMPERS. The interior was finished in white shag carpeting everywhere. He even had a name for the car, the snebalooch coupe. When I asked how he got the name, he told me about one of his favorite pastimes, offset punching records and playing them backwards at various speeds. He tried this with a Dead album and found one segment that kept repeating snebalooch over and over again so he named the car after it.

After we get done with sound check, Pat and Joe went out to smoke a few in the snebalooch coupe. However, when a cop pulled up alongside them, Joe ditched the roach as fast as he could and they managed to talk their way out of trouble. They came back inside and all seemed fine for a while.

Just as the bouncers started to open the doors, one of them comes up to us and asks if we knew who owned the crazy painted Chevy. Apparently Joe wasn't very careful disposing of that roach and the snebalooch coupe was on fire!

Needless to say, Pat and Joe were bummed beyond belief and left us to load out all by ourselves up those !@#$%^& stairs! Joe apologized the next day and came back to work for us but Pat was never seen again.

 

[NotScott]

Second story from that same basement club as above.

I used to bring my brother to some of my gigs even though he was only 15. He would help the road crew with setup and tear down and in that place, it was welcomed. This one particular night, I had a date with this new girl I met at a gig the previous night so I convinced my brother to go up with Matt, our lighting guy.

The night was going great and I was really enjoying my date when suddenly, the house lights came on, several sheriff's officers with dogs began to fill the place and the manager came up on stage to announce that the local police were conducting an investigation and that everyone was to have their ID available for inspection.

My brother, being underage, nearly had a stroke. I told him to go sit with Matt over by the sound console and act like he was part of the crew. He ran off and did his part well. However, my date was also petrified. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me that she had a fake ID and was only 16! Now I was on the verge of a stroke! Could you imagine explaining that to a judge! Regardless, I had her get up on the stage with me and hold a microphone like she was the singer. We then pretended to go over some songs.

After about 20 minutes that seemed to last an eternity, the cops took away 3 guys and left everyone else alone. Apparently, the three arrested were local cops who were dealing drugs!

After several shots to calm my nerves, we finished the night but needless to say, it was a VERY quiet ride taking my "date" home as I wondered if I would be met by another angry dad with a shotgun.

But there is more from this place..............

 

[NotScott]

After the police raid of the basement club, the owners decided to bring in a new manager to clean up the place. The new manager hired straight laced bartenders and gorillas for bouncers. He also had a strict time limit for load outs and would dock the bands' pay if you couldn't meet the new load out times.

The place was no longer fun to play and I soon made an enemy of one of the bouncers. This guy was a 6'4" 300 pound dick and I don't even remember how we got off to such a bad start but we had some words before a show and this azzwipe then decided that he would stand on stage right in front of me all night! After the second set, Pete, our manager, had enough of the BS and has Mr. Bob (how the new manager wanted to be addressed) and the bouncer come in the dressing room and we clear the air. All that happened was the bouncer took a swing at me and then tried to close the stage door on me as I tried to get the hell out of there.

The next time we were there, I arrive for soundcheck and see several police officers hauling the dick bouncer away. Once inside, I was told that even the dick bouncer had enough of Mr. Bob's rules and attacked him. I can't say I felt sorry for either guy but I assumed Mr. Bob would have learned his lesson. Sadly, Mr. Bob became more of a pain in the ass, giving the road crews more and more shit about load out times. Our crew didn't want to work there anymore and then Mr. Bob started getting into it with me about why we needed so much gear and why can't we load out as fast as X, Y or Z band. Meanwhile, since I knew everyone in X, Y and Z bands, he was telling them the same crap and they were fed up with him too.

The place had a female mannequin dressed like a punk rocker in a cut off shirt and a short skirt that greeted everyone as soon as they walked downstairs. She was named Nu Wave Nancy by the bands that played there and was quite an iconic part of the local music scene.

As I walked in for one gig, Nancy was in her usual disarray as departing bands would often leave her in varying states of dress. Seeing her with her skirt lifted up, a grabbed a sharpie and wrote in big block letters right over her snatch MR. BOB'S FISH MARKET!

I left her half dressed with her new tattoo and waited for Mr. Bob to arrive. The bouncers and staff were all wetting their selves laughing at it and Bob went ballistic when he saw it. For the next month, he interrogated every band until he finally figured out it was me. When I knew he knew, I said, "Yeah, I did it. Nothing personal." The guys in the band busted out laughing as Mr. Bob turned all kinds of shades of red and then declared we would never play there again. That was fine by us and the place closed for good a few weeks afterwards.

A funny aftermath for all of this happened a few months later. I was working in Manhattan and was crossing 8th Ave near 48th Street and who do I see walking towards me but Mr. Bob! I almost didn't recognize him as he was all dressed up in suit and tie and carrying a briefcase. I said hello and asked him what he was up to. He told me that ha had trouble finding any work in NJ after the club closed and was looking for work in Manhattan. I could tell the guy was depressed and couldn't kick him while he was down so I wished him well and went on my way. But what were the odds that I would bump into him by chance on a Manhattan street? A fitting ending for a strange place.

 

[NotScott]

OK, final story before I bore y'alls.

We were playing at some huge club out in the woods and at the end of the night, I met this hottie. So we go out to find a quiet place where we could be alone. We ended up behind my band's truck. I leaned my guitar case against one side of the rear bumper and leaned her over............... well, that is not important right now.

The good thing was that we were really hidden from view so nobody saw what we were doing. The bad thing was that we were so hidden, when our roadie got in to move the truck, he didn't see us and proceeded to back up. I managed to pull her out of harm's way but my special ordered, Phil Kubicki/Zion guitar was not so lucky. The body was split in half and the neck cracked.

I couldn't really blame our roadie but I was heartbroken. That guitar was just so me. I eventually got the neck repaired and found a cheap Chinese body to put it all back together, but it was never right. After the replacement body started falling apart at the seams, I found a white Floyd Rose Strat for cheap and put the Kubicki neck with fresh stainless steel jumbo frets on it and some new pickups and it is back to being one of my favorite guitars again. It is the guitar I am playing in my profile pic.

So even though that gig ended in disaster, it eventually had a happy ending.

 

[Garagemonkey]

We were just another band out of Boston. No, really. Early '90s before cell phones and social media...hell, before Internet, we had amassed a pretty good following playing the New England college scene and local Boston area clubs. ("The Boston gig is cancelled, but don't worry about it, it's not a big college town." - Spinal Tap) The band was tight - we were all high school buddies - but the singer was from a couple town over and by all accounts a raging D-bag. When he joined our band about a year out of high school it was really the first time he had gotten any sort of positive attention - girls, accolades, etc. It completely went to his head and he really wasn't handling it so well. If it weren't for his voice, I don't think anybody would have anything to do with him. His power and range were phenomenal. I mean, annoyingly incredible. We could cover anything from then-new grunge to Van "Hagar" Halen, Damn Yankees, Extreme, Aerosmith. etc. You name it we were not limited by the vocals.

We had been sending out demo tapes to record labels and between the (admittedly pretty good) originals we had and our crowd following we finally got a scout to agree to come up from New York to watch one of our shows in Derringer's - a smallish club in Brockton, MA of all places. It's a few minutes to show time and we're all set up in front of our gear on stage. I look down and there's the guy from New York - literally with a notepad in his hand. No singer. Show time comes. No singer. Show time-plus 10 minutes I'm freaking out begging the bass player to sing since he had a pretty good voice. No dice. The rest of the guys just started breaking down their equipment right there in front of everybody and I'm still standing there in disbelief with my Les Paul hanging on my shoulder.

Finally, as the last cymbal stand made its way off stage right I took off my guitar, rolled my Marshall stack off the stage, packed it all into my Dodge Ramcharger, and went home to burn up the wall phone trying to get this guy to find out what happened. Maybe he was in a car wreck? Or choked on a chunk of steak? Kidnapped by Whitey Bulger's crew? Abducted by aliens? I was looking for any good reason for him to miss the most important show any of us had ever had! I finally called his girlfriend's house and got her on the line. She was the first real girlfriend he'd ever had and apparently she had gotten sick of his schtick and earlier that afternoon she dumped him.

He missed the show because he was curled up in a ball in her doorway crying and banging on the door pleading for her to take him back. I wound up being the guy who had to fire him. He cried again and then got mad at us, slamming the phone down - and that's the last time I ever spoke with him. Eventually we all sort of went our separate ways music-wise. The drummer got recruited by a band out in SoCal and after a year of not gelling with his guitar player they recruited me to move out to come replace him.

And that's the story of my worst show ever....and I guess also sort of the origin story of why I ultimately wound up moving to California.

 

[NotScott]

Who else believes @Tim Fezziwig is holding out and has to have some more stories? That dude should write a book or sell a reality show!

 

[Big John]

Playing a standard 4hr gig, South Pacific bar next to the Olympia Beer Brewery, a few decades ago. This all happens within 3 songs...

(1) Lost the power strip to the pedal wall warts, popped in all new batteries, up and running.
(2) Few mins later popped the mains fuse on a Marshall 30th combo, slapped in a back-up EL34 quad, new fuse, up and running.
(3) 10 seconds later lost all signal again, fuse ok, unplugged delay in loop, up and running.
(4) Blew 2 strings during a solo, swapped to back-up on the stand, up and running.

In the days following, I re-tubed/biased AND replaced the the cheap switching jacks in the effects loop. I couldn't sell that POS 30th fast enough. Then I vowed to ALWAYS put on new strings AND run on new batteries for every gig. I didn't want to re-live that nightmare ever again.

 

[Tim Fezziwig]

Where to begin? Believe it or not I was not embraced by local crowds,promoters,other bands during my " last ditch" attempt to be a " working artiste."

Freshly banned from Philly POETRY Society. Got my trio together at 25...clock ticking....going to " dethrone" Cobain......

Next several years were one BIG LETDOWN. I was " shutdown" my last 11 gigs....the guys in other bands who I lent my amps to...went behind my back and " pressured" sound guys to cut the power...


Most gigs I would play one song,then LIGHTS OUT....my worst? I guess DelHaven in Delaware. I promoted real big for the show...handed out over 100 cassettes....I got REALLY drunk, put on my Casper Ghost mask.....first song broke a string on my 74 Custom,plugged in my 86 Sg....went out of tune IMMEDIATELY....I got frustrated.....decided to bleed all over.....went behind my amp and " nicked" my forehead with a razor...went too deep...HEAVY BLOOD.....the 22 people there....left while cussing me out....shut down lights.....a bouncer took a punch at me....grazed my shoulder.....


bassist and drummer got into a fist fight....had to have my roadie load up all our gear as patrons pelted us with bottles....almost passed out due to booze od and blood loss... crazy glued the cut.....and drove our van back to Pennsy as my roadie broke up my still fighting R section..

...van broke down near Philly airport....had to walk and walk until I found a pay phone....got towed to a shithole motel. Refused entry because I was covered in blood and bassist and drummer were STILL fighting! Roadie ended up punching out BOTH OF THEM! We all ended up sleeping in the van.......woke up to BLAZING heat....my head still bleeding.....got van towed home....had girlfriend pick us up in her new car and bassist vomited all over the interior....had gal yelling in my hungover face as we smelled warm puke all the way home....
Band broke up three weeks later.


Wait,,,,,,this was actually a GREAT gig....blood...vomit....fist fights...clearing room...van breaking down.....

I miss those days...
I was in my mid-late twenties....REAL aggro flowing through my veins.......good time was had by NONE! Perfect PHILLY loser band ......
Here is vid from those days...I sing with my friend's band ....then the MIGHTY FEZZ BAND wows the crowd!

Who else believes @Tim Fezziwig is holding out and has to have some more stories? That dude should write a book or sell a reality show!

It was my Birthday.....I was 27....I had been " shut down" 3xs by the Dugout bar in the last two months...the year 1993...

Rrrrrrriiiinngggg..

" FEZZ?"
" EVERY SECOND!"
" This is CHUMP...from Dugout."
" Yeah CHUMP?:
" I want you here,Saturday night...BATTLE OF THE BANDS!"
" You realize you keep turning out the lights on me?
" Ummmm....well,we love you..

They used me to make their SHIT METAL COVERS BANDS look good? I was " easily" the most "compelling " band there,original and MEAN.


"OK,I will be there."
"Thanks FEZZ."
" KISS MY FEZZ.....

................

I go onstage. Sandwiched between two CRAP BANDS.....they brought all their DOPE friends and idiot stepmoms....usually when I plugged in EVERYBODY left...not this time...HEAVY RAIN...no smoking cigs outside....I decided to not bleed until last number....I would punish them with feedback ..I made sure my drummer was DRUNK...I still do this....makes for excitement....also I made sure my tuning was " sour."


Put on Casper mask and RAPED THEIR MINDS......why didn't they shut me down? ????? I guess because it was my birthday.....so many people were unhappy....Milf mommies were sour....WHAT IS THIS?

So,last number,go behind my Dual Showman,cut my forehead...SWEET PAIN....blood pouring all over....OH MY GOD!..........

Captive audience.
We left stage to utter silence. Booker comes over.....

YOU WILL NEVER PLAY HERE AGAIN! I shook my head and got blood on his shirt......

We lost BATTLE OF THE BANDS.....some " thrill seeking" step mom tried " shining up to me after......GO AWAY LITTLE GAL....back then I would not break my frustration with SEX...no....keep it......I went home and took LSD...


Several weeks later..


Rrrrrrriiiinngggg

" FEZZ?"
" EVERY SECOND."
" Dugout needs you....

Yes,charisma is a curse....repulsion...attraction....

 

[Big Dik]

We played at a clothes optional apartment complex. As I was bringing in my gear, with my wife in tow, a naked girl stood in her doorway and asked if we were having a party. We were getting pretty wasted and it showed in our poor performance. I usually just drink water when performing, but not that night. I learned a valuable lesson.

 

[SteveGangi]

I was in a band (very briefly) and we did a wedding. The father of the bride was a total wanker, a real Chad (or karen?). To top it off, all the equipment (except for MY amp) quit. I guess no one knew how to maintain their gear and keep spare fuses/tubes?

We decided on the spot to rename ourselves Three Mile island.

I quit when the "leader" got snotty and gave me the "are you doing me a favor" crap.

Well, I was. I was only there (as an amateur and on VERY short notice) until he could get someone else, so yeah I was doing him a favor. He pulled that card and I walked.

 

[P-Nutz]

Who else believes @Tim Fezziwig is holding out and has to have some more stories? That dude should write a book or sell a reality show!

Fezz is good, but your chit holds up!

 

[Tim Fezziwig]

Fezz is good, but your chit holds up!

P- Nutz,remember I'm a " ringer" ALMOST POET OF YEAR 1987...I was paid $33 monthly here...BEFORE I GOT FIRED!

 

[P-Nutz]

20 + years ago, when my current long-time band was starting, we played two high school after proms. I the first one we played in the auditorium of the school. One person in the audience (there rest I'm sure were off doing teenager/prom things). Clap, clap, clap ...

The second was in the double gym, where in the other half they were playing basketball and chit ... balls and whatnot whizzing by our heads as we played ...

Both paid well ... never again ...

 

[P-Nutz]

OK, @wildhawk1 story about the piano player jumping in ...

Playing a bar gig and covering Pick Up the Pieces when some chick from another local band jumps on stage and starts singing vocals ... think about it ...mostly unintelligible rambling mutant noises ... then, and I chit you not, a dude jumps up and starts playing washboard ... to Pick Up the Pieces ... turns out he was "family" of the owners ... and the assistant fire marshall, so I guess we had that going for us ...

 

[dspelman]

We had a 48 passenger school bus with most of the back seats removed. A Hammond B3, some serious guitar/bass amps and a monster PA system shoved in the back. We were heading for Beaver Dam, Wisconsin in January in a blizzard when the bus conked out about 30 miles from the school where we were supposed to play. The school sent out two school buses for us and we loaded from our bus into the other two in the middle of the blizzard, called a tow truck and then played the gig from there, with no idea what we were going to be faced with afterwards.

In another instance, I was working with a little fledgling band that needed a LOT of rehearsal because only two of us were really professionals. The "bandleader" decided (without consulting anyone) that we were going to do an introductory gig for a bunch of his friends in his back yard with a cobbled together PA system. It was a total disaster, and the bass player and I walked out afterwards and the band collapsed.

 

[NotScott]

Fezz is good, but your chit holds up!

Thanks but Fezz is always funny and entertaining. I am just a guy that has been around the block a few times.

 

[Tim Fezziwig]

Last gig at Sabbatinos Pizza up near Lancaster PA. My band " stiffed" me 5 hours before gig....FEZZ MUST GO ON!.

I was washed up at 27,still,I played FAST...so I " recruit" John and Chris from SpaceChrist,the guys I was singing with in prior vid.

John is BEST bassist ,Chris a BADASS guitarist,not a drummer,he was winded in 5 minutes,I needed a drummer! Funny thing,after washing up second time in 2010,I " forced " John to play drums for me in a Super Power DUO....he stunk to...tap tap tap..no worries,I have talent to burn.....John,took over the stool from Bob,my guitar tech who I FORCED to play....he went mad...stopped showing up...moved to Ohio...John had heart problems after playing with me..also went blank on me for 3 years...now we talk..



So,last show. TONS of kids. I had a clown use my rig to play a metal solo as a warm up,he messed with my settings I had NO sustain.....no matter,I was UTTER SHIT...band was sluggish....no matter PEOPLE LOVED the slop,had 80 people moshing bleeding,even the owner,57 or old patted me after...Great a Jobba...Sad you are Ahhh retiring.

.kids chased the car after. Was I happy? HAIL NO! Lost all respect for audiences, which continue today....I often " quit" on solos....why bother? Just to be a STINKER....


Then returned in 2007 after 14 years...that blew up in a year...here's Johnny....fartttt in 2011 before he went missing ...

 

[Chango Malo]

one band that crashed and burned hard:

I was playing trumpet/fluegelhorn in a neosoul band a few months after I moved out west to Seattle. Everyone was solid, but the 'chick singer' was bangin' the drummer behind the scenes. Only way she could keep a gig; she was pitchy at the drop of a hat and had a bad case of CLSD. I even heard her say "I don't carry gear, I'm a diva" a couple of weeks before this gig.

rhythm section had a bad pot habit but didn't think it affected their playing at all. Anyways, the band was headlining the Chop Suey and there was a pretty good crowd that night. We got there on time and did the usual set up and sound check shenanigans. Then grabbed a bite and a a wash for the back neck and headed back to the green room to listen and wait. The drummer, guitar player, bass player, and chick singers all smoked about a half pound of BC hydro while the time went by. The KB guy, sax guy, and me couldn't take the smoke so we hung at the back of the main floor to watch the other bands.
It came time for us to play and the opener was shit. Sloppy, shit meter, and the chicks were flatter'n roadkill. Second tune wasn't any better. The sax guy was giving me some serious side eye and was lookin' nervous in the service. He looked like he wanted to disappear into his Italian suit and hide.
So the third tune kicked off.

And shit the bed. Drummer and bass guy fell out and stopped.
AND RESTARTED THE SAME TUNE. And shit the bed again.

They started the tune for a third time.
And the sax guy, without any warning, said "fuck this shit" and walked off stage left. I saw him grab his case as he passed the hall table and keep walking out the door onto the street.

I said to myself "self, you have three seconds to get the fuck out of here before anyone notices the horn section has turned into a smoking ammonia hole, so get to steppin' "

So I exited, stage left, grabbed my case as I hot footed it out onto 14th St. I could see the sax guy making a left onto Pike a half block away. I start warming up the shoe leather and follow Justin down Pike St. to the Comet. He goes in so I goes in.
He sits down and orders a double scotch neat.
I hold up two fingers to get the same.
He doesn't look at me, just says "don't say a fucking word".
So I keep the yap shut and we drink the drinks.
We get two beers.
We drink the beers.

The funk band on stage takes a break and the guitar player wanders over and says hi to Justin. Turns out they played in a band or two before.
New guy says "uh, thought you were playing Chop Suey tonight, dude?"
Justin says "you will never speak of that ever again"
New guy looks at me. I say me."Don't look at me, I don't know nuttin' "
New guy says "well, you guys got your horns with you, we've got space up there if you want to play. We'll put you on the band tab..."

So we played with those cats for the next 7 months.

 

[simon connor]

Oh My God. Four years ago my band played a bar at a ski area for the weekend. I've played there a bunch of times and it is a great gig because everyone is staying there overnight, ie, no one is driving, so they just get hammered, cheer, dance on tables etc. A couple months before the gig there had been some trouble with two newish members about who was "running the band." It had always been me selecting the songs, making the chord charts, running the rehearsals, and all of it. So I said "I don't want to be the leader if other people don't want me to be that," and I stopped doing all the stuff.

So we get to the gig, and there is literally no set list. These two guys set up in the front row (the two complainers, actually) and proceed to butcher whatever we were playing: way too fast tempos (I mean almost double time), taking requests and then attempting to play songs we didn't even know. It was bad. We had to stop a couple songs we knew well because no one could play the song at that speed. Eventually the bartender came over and said "Look guys, this is not the place to rehearse new material..."

I quit the band shortly afterward, and then just reformed with some of the original players, and not the troublemakers (and they were super hurt.) But what a disaster that gig was! It also made me think a lot about what went wrong. One of my conclusions was to be very careful about new members, because they might try to take over. Another conclusion was bands just collapse. A lot. It really sucks when it is at a gig though.

I was thinking further about what I learned from that particular gig from hell. The guy who wanted to take over the band was the new singer. I had arranged for him to join so that I could focus on playing guitar, and not also singing. And it all went wrong. I ruminated about it a lot afterwards (why did that happen, why was that guy such a dick, who tries to take over someone else's band etc, etc) and my conclusion was that singers are sometimes just not really musicians, I mean they are musical in the sense that they have a natural ability to do music - they can sing, and sometimes even sing really well - but they have not put in the enormous amount of time learning and practicing their instrument (Apologies to any singers present who actually are "real" musicians, ie, who have spent years practicing singing.) But there is a sort of paradox in that the singer is naturally the front person of the band. It doesn't have to be a problem, but it can be: They are the face of the band, the person the crowd is paying attention to, but they sometimes don't have anywhere near the musicianship that the other musicians in the band have. And sometimes that front-man role leads to them wanting control of the band, but they don't know how to do that and/or have not earned it.

After that fiasco (the guy was a great singer, too, but he had no business trying to organize and run run a performing band) I just thought "I guess I am going to go back to being the singer" - and I can sing reasonably well and sing the right parts in the right places and stay in tune and all. I'm not strikingly great though.

So that's what I did. The band has been stable and fine ever since. Sometimes those gigs from hell can actually lead to better things.