A month or so ago, we decided to accept a few show offers that conventional logic would have suggested we reject. However, we’re not exactly a household name in Portland and we decided we could use a few dry runs with our new material before playing any shows of consequence. Here are the results so far.
The first was a day-after-Christmas show during a snow storm at Kelly’s Olympian. Kelly’s used to be a great place to play because it was always free at the door and packed with weird cocaine people that would ignore the bands for a while, but eventually come around with crazy eyes and tell you at length how they were going to join your religion. Pretty much just what a local band hopes for. That all changed with the club’s attempt to become a legitimate music venue- they bought the knife shop next door and turned it into their venue room, accessable only through a small door at the front of the bar. Now, all those cocaine people sit in the packed bar area with no idea that there are even bands playing, while the bands play to a room of significant others and parents. Even the sound guy, after making sure that all the instruments were way too loud, disappeared into the bar to drink.
Christmas morning, the day before our show which, incidentally, had been booked exclusively via gramatically poor text messages, we recieved a text from the booker informing us that he had neglected to book any other bands. This was just great- our only chance for a show on the day after a major holiday amidst bad weather was that the other bands would draw too, but now due to a lazy booking agent, there were no other bands. We had already invited people to the show, so we went to play anyway. We loaded the Hammond organ in, which really wasn’t too bad to move, and set up. As an instrumental band in a small room, we really didn’t even need to use the PA, but the soundguy had to look busy, so he made us blaringly loud. Adam asked about a strange feedback on his bass, and the response was “there is a subwoofer right under you.” By under you, he meant the stage.
When 9:30 rolled around, we played all of our songs for Adam’s sister and her friends, our old friend Ericka and her friends, and Dave’s fiance Kate and her coworker. Just as we were finishing up, one of those aforementioned cocaine people stumbled into the venue area and listened to our last song. “You’re done,” he asked with energy shooting out of his eyes, “what if I get all of my friends to come in here- will you play again? There will be at least twenty people.” This was awkward- there is nothing more lame as a band than to play your set twice to fill up time. No one at the club even cared, and while we were free to go, it seemed silly to waste the opportunity to reach a few new fans after hauling all of our gear downtown. So as our wild eyed friend made good on his promise and filled up the room with other cocaine people, we tried to play again. The sound guy had put on a Radiohead record and disappeared, so the cocaine guy went to find him. Grumbling that we had interupted his break, he came back in and we played a few songs again. The cocaine people had all gone back to the bar area when we started, so we embarrasingly repeated a few songs for our few people, packed up, and left the club.
True Story.
