It's more difficult than I thought to begin this. It's probably a familiar story to lots of musicians but
it never stops hitting a soft spot anyway. Okay. I lost another gig. I've been performing here in the
Dive bars of Hell's Kitchen since the early nineties. Dive bars don't always have the longest life expectancies
so some gigs evaporate like that. But other Dive bars are more stable and have been around forever and
it is this situation of losing a Dive that just happened to me.
It is the constantly changing 'landscape' of people involved with these bars that brought this specific
ending down to me. A bar manager who I have had a good relationship with for several years has just
vanished. He would book me into this bar the third Sunday of each month; it was a paying gig too.
But this past Sunday as I walked into the bar, carrying my guitar and pushing my small amp on a
handtruck, I was struck with the hard news. The bouncer told me my manager friend is now fired, I would not receive my
fifty bucks for the gig, I would have to pay for the beer I drink and I was going to have to wait for the Sunday
night football game to end before I could begin. He was at least a foot taller than me, as if I didn't feel smaller already.
I wasn't going to cancel the gig because I wasn't getting paid. One the day of a performance I spend the
majority of my time rehearsing and focusing on performing. Preparing. I had also worked particularly hard
the week leading up to my date posting the gig on line and passing out flyers at all the neighborhood joints.
So then my son arrives pushing the PA in on another hand truck. We decide to begin the set up right away
regardless of the football game. Besides, none of my people had yet arrived, which plainly exposed only
the bartender and two other customers watching the game. After we had the set up prepared, which
doesn't take long because I am a solo act, the bartender began to warm up to the idea and so threw out
the part about waiting for the football game to end. It was still early in the third quarter. She was concerned
because she had only begun this job and had just finished a conversation with the owner when I arrived. It
was the owner who told her not to pay me or give me a beer. Not her idea. The owner never has spoken with me.
Now it's moving close to eleven pm. My people are coming into the bar and buying drinks. If I hadn't been
scheduled to play there would have probably been two people in the whole joint. I brought in about twenty,
which is a lot. I began my set. It was difficult in my head those first few songs. Everything seemed so
surreal; out of place. But the support from my friends helped turn my head around and so I was able to knock
out my usual high energy show. One of the best moments of the night, for me, was seeing that I had won
over the bartender as she threw a dollar into the tip pail we had set up. I decided during my set to just go ahead
and play one long extended show instead of taking a break in the middle. I didn't think it a good idea to stop
the train once it was rolling; I might receive another ultimatum.
Once the show had ended most of my friends went home. A couple remained to play a game of pool. I did too
because the bartender decided to buy me a drink. A big deal on a night such as this. My son and I then packed up
our stuff and headed for the door. The juke box hadn't come back on. It was so quiet now I could hear the cue ball
run on the table. I thanked the bartender for the beer but as we walked through the door to the sidewalk we cursed
the place. Another joint in the dust. Another time not knowing when the next gig will be and that's the feeling I
simply will never get used to. The never ending paying of dues.
I decided not to go with specific names and places in here because I wasn't quite comfortable with that idea.
But I wanted to tell this story; another day in the life of an independent player. I have to say though, it sure
would be nice if every now and then these 'surprises' turned out to be something good.
