My 2nd gig last weekend was at “Tattoos-R-Us” club. We had an opening band so I didn’t have to show up until about 10:45. When I got there I noticed that they screwed up again and didn’t have our band name on the marquee.
I got in the club and grabbed my usual cranberry juice. I checked out the opening band and they were pretty good. They were a surf band and the guitar player had a Theremin.
When I walked back stage to open the back door and load my gear, I noticed another drum kit. I started adding up things in my head and went to talk to the sound guy. I asked him how many bands were playing and he said two. I asked who the 2nd band was and he pointed at a table in the audience and said “them.”
My band wasn’t playing.
I called my singer outside and he confirmed that we were not playing and apologized for forgetting to call me. It appears our bass player’s father had a heart attack and she canceled. It’s nice to drive 189 city blocks just to go drink a f’n cranberry juice and breathe a bunch of 2nd hand smoke. How considerate.