Flakes

This blog is meant to be honest. So here's how I honestly feel:

PISSED OFF.

What is it with bands that cancel gigs a few days before they are due to play? Gigs that have been booked for months. Usually, they give a good reason. Usually. Though there was the time a singer told me at the eleventh hour that his band couldn't do the gig because his lead guitarist had just informed him that he was going to see Jeff Beck play instead.

Usually, a good reason, as I said. It's whether you believe it or not. And whether you feel the band has made enough of an effort to avoid last-minute cancellation, and ultimately letting you down. Remember, total cancellation can be avoided by an acoustic performance, for instance, or by turning up and playing without the Jeff Beck fan, the injured or the unwell.

When you pick up the phone to your band contact five days before the gig to check that everything is alright, and the voice on the end of the line answers, in a pleasantly surprised tone, "Oh, hi, I was gonna ring you today actually...", you can't help feeling that the gig has never been terrifically high on their give-a-shit list.

The primary reason for this gig cancellation is an injury incured by the band's bass player. Secondary to this, and as if to preempt any suggestion by me of a solo appearance by the physically intact singer/guitarist to salvage the gig, comes details of how the singer/guitarist is currently in the midst of an overwhelming personal and domestic situation.

An offer is made of the contact details of a friend's band that may be able to fill the headline slot. "Okay", I say, "I'll work on finding a replacement today and get back to you if I can't get one myself". No thanks, though, is what I think. Only if I'm desperate. And I ain't. I got my own musician friends and bands, and I can rely on them, thank you very much. I only wish I could have said that on the phone.

Karma. As Colin Gillman will tell you, is a powerful thing.

This is the type of band that it is not worth dealing with. The sort of band that makes me wonder why I bother.

In return for the booking, I asked them to sign up to the Bands, Fans & Industry site. Nothing.

The gig wasn't even on their MySpace. Still, that'll save them calling round all their friends to tell them not to bother turning up.

Unfortunately, with hindsight it's too easy to see the clues.

A gig-less band is no band at all

So my band are without a gig on the cards again. I hate that. Who is responsible for this? Well, we (the band's four members) all are, or should be. Some of us do more than others to get gigs. What I mean to say is some of us do something and others do nothing. I have to admit that I have been guilty of not doing too much gig-getting lately. This is because our drummer who works in advertising has managed to arrange the last couple of gigs through advertising industry events.

So the ball's in my court. Where to play next, I wonder? Probably no chance of a gig before Christmas now? The promoter whose baby I carelessly woke up in the process of trying to book a gig recently has given me the name of someone else to contact for a booking at his boozer.

I sent this contact an email yesterday but I haven't had a response to it yet. Fair enough, they're probably very busy. So I go to their website again to find a telephone number; Can I find a telephone number? No I can't. So I decide to send them another message through their myspace page. I hate myspace. What an effing mess. A cluttered, restless, headache-inducing nightmare. And do you think I can remember my password? I spend the next ten minutes trying to sort my password out. Eventually, I sort it out and get another email off to them.

I also call UpAllNight. They don't have the Spice of Life anymore which is okay 'cos it's an effing nightmare to load your gear in and out of. I did like the space though. And the soundman, John. The location for support was good, too. Anyhow, they now put on gigs at the Albany at Great Portland Street and at Tommy Flynns in Camden. Both these involve nights on the bill with four other bands and playing a thirty minute set. Probably with a bunch of young bands. Kids young enough to be my own. So here we go again. Another thirty minutes in a blue moon.

Anyway, sods-law, Alex is not there today when I call so I'm asked to call tomorrow.

I will keep you posted.

Call me, just don't wake the baby

I was effing peed off yesterday after making a call to a promoter who I am chasing for a gig booking. We played a successful show at the venue he manages a year ago so the gig's on the cards; I'd just like to finalise a date. I have called this guy numerous times and on each occasion he is too busy to deal with it. Fine, he's busy, and sounds just a little stressed, so I agree to call again each time.

Yesterday, I call and he answers:
"Who's this?"
"It's Toby from Pocket Rocket", I say
"Nice timing mate", he replies, "you just woke up my baby... I can't speak now, I shouldn't have answered the phone...
"I'm sorry", I say, "I'll give you a call another time".
Click.
Drone.

So effing rude. Too right you shouldn't have anwered the effing phone.
I was peed off at myself for being so apologetic. I hate that about me. I know dealing with a baby is stressful, I've been there. So why is it sleeping by the landline phone?

This testing and frustrating process of trying to get a gig, gives me day-mares me of the times, in the late-80s, that we had to go out to the telephone box at the end of the road in all weathers to call promoters. After having queued for ages to get into the phone box, naturally the line was engaged or he wasn't there or he had a pay-to-play policy (which we didn't agree with because we simply couldn't afford to do it) so all our efforts were in vein.

As my late-grandmother used to say, "Never give up". So I bloody won't.