3.12.2012, FTW
The li'l Stoogeband played at the Chat Room on Magnolia for the first time in four years. (The last time we played there, Ben Rogers told me they weren't going to be booking bands anymore. Ha. It would have been cool to say we were too loud, or that the crowd didn't dig us, but we still love you, Ben.) I actually changed strings on Ray's SG the day of the show because when I opened the case, I could see the rust. And I discovered after the fact that I'd had my Twin on 1/4 power, which explains why my ears weren't ringing as badly as usual the following day -- probably a mercy for the punters, but next time we play, I'll make sure it's full-on so I'll have "amp parity" with Richard (who actually brought his half stack this time).
When I was a snotnose, just learning to play (and using "band practice" as an excuse to get out of the house and party), I always dreamed of belonging to a community based around music, like the 'orrible 'oo's Mod claque, or the Detroit kids at the Grande Ballroom. Maybe the Wreck Room was as close as I'll ever come, but standing in the parking lot of the Chat before we went in with my sweetie 'n' all of the cats from my two favorite bands I've ever played in -- some of the smartest, funniest people I've ever known, with whom I share a deep love for certain musics -- felt damn near like it to me. I'm a lucky asshole to have wound up where I did.
Teague correctly and humorously characterizes our performances as "geezers sharing a stupor," and that pretty much sums up how it went that night. Ray and I both enjoyed ourselves so much that we forgot to stick around for our payout, even though Brad Hensarling had made a point of telling us we'd be paid. Teague told the bartender to give it to the headlining band, which is fine; they've got travel expenses to cover, and it's not like we do this for the money (although it's nice having some dough in the kitty for pizza and beer). Going forward, I need to remember that it's not necessary to drink every beer that's bought for me after we finish. Brad mentioned that going forward, the Chat will be booking bands once a month. Hopefully, we'll get another chance to play there in less than four years.
When I was a snotnose, just learning to play (and using "band practice" as an excuse to get out of the house and party), I always dreamed of belonging to a community based around music, like the 'orrible 'oo's Mod claque, or the Detroit kids at the Grande Ballroom. Maybe the Wreck Room was as close as I'll ever come, but standing in the parking lot of the Chat before we went in with my sweetie 'n' all of the cats from my two favorite bands I've ever played in -- some of the smartest, funniest people I've ever known, with whom I share a deep love for certain musics -- felt damn near like it to me. I'm a lucky asshole to have wound up where I did.
Teague correctly and humorously characterizes our performances as "geezers sharing a stupor," and that pretty much sums up how it went that night. Ray and I both enjoyed ourselves so much that we forgot to stick around for our payout, even though Brad Hensarling had made a point of telling us we'd be paid. Teague told the bartender to give it to the headlining band, which is fine; they've got travel expenses to cover, and it's not like we do this for the money (although it's nice having some dough in the kitty for pizza and beer). Going forward, I need to remember that it's not necessary to drink every beer that's bought for me after we finish. Brad mentioned that going forward, the Chat will be booking bands once a month. Hopefully, we'll get another chance to play there in less than four years.
posted by stashdauber at 8:13 AM
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