Russ lives to play another day!

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Bill in Dayton

Russ like to hear more about that

Me too. The ladies here are welcomed with open arms.

Gary

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Travlin' Easy

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Just a wild guess here, Russ...I would dare to speculate that a man of your extensive professional experience has played lots of gigs that were more difficult than this one. Lots.
w
I would even bet that some of them you had a good laugh about - after you got home. Would love to hear more about these.

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You gotta match the musician/entertainer to the gig (venue, occasion, etc.). A great entertainer is going to 'die' in a typical jazz club where people come for the music, just as a great jazz musician is going to die in your typical 'party/dance-type' club where people come primarily to be entertained. Doesn't matter that Russ 'survived' the gig purely on musicianship, the fact is that; 1) he didn't enjoy it, and 2) Donny or Uncle Dave would probably have done a better job. My rule; never play outside your 'comfort level'. Nobody benefits.

Sadly, there are far fewer jazz venues than general venues in most areas of the country. I happen to be lucky in that there are quite a few jazz clubs in suburban Atlanta. All are upscale and none will tolerate any other type of music. Because of the large number of good musicians in the area, they also won't tolerate 'bad' (as in amateurish, etc.) acts. The pay scale here is better than in most places but the competition is stronger (the rich get richer, the incompetent get poorer). In downtown Atlanta, as in many other large urban areas, HipHop is king and the money the A-list guys make can only be imagined by pro's from other genre's. Like it's counterpart, Rock, it's that aspect of it that seduces so many our promising young musicians (that and the fact that it's easier to 'make it big' with a limited amount of formal training). Oh well, that's life in the music biz these days.

chas

Actually, all the attendees were fine. It was the organizer who was a total ass. I mentioned the gig at the second one that night, and was told that this particular lady is a disaster, and that most people don't want her back.

The group is not welcome because of the demands of the organizer. She was pushy and out of control.

The business (venue) does not need the hassle and I don't either.

I'm lucky that I can pick and choose jobs and
I'm really not interested in doing these. The money's not enough and I'd much rather play jazz or quiet dinner music. Chas is right. Dave or Donny would probably have done a better job.


Russ

Dont know how it works in KY...but here each member of the Red Hat organization gets a chance thru the year to be the chairperson for each outing using their own ideas.....possibly you just caught the bad apple on this gig. Dave & I have pretty much been though all scenarios in our extensive musical careers together about 80 years combined from dressing up like the Phantom of the Opera to Chicken Hats ..........but even with our musical versatility we still "Pick & Choose" our clients very wisely also....which keeps it all in perspective.

Carry on

Luckily, Flatfoot, most of my experiences on the bandstand are now funny as hell to me. I don't see well without glasses and that's gotten me in trouble more than once.

* At a regular hotel gig in graduate school, I though I saw my giant friend, Claude, who was yelling "Play Misty for me". My response was, "why don't you just get your ugly ass out of here?". My partner (B-3 player) had a really worried look on his face. You guessed it...it wasn't my friend, and I had to do some real explaining (the guy was huge and mad as hell).

* I played after hours at a neat restaurant in the 70's. Local girls from a massage parlor would come up on the bandstand, sit on the bench and try to distract me in unique and often enjoyable ways. One time, the situation just didn't feel right. To quote Steven Tyler, "Dude Look(ed) like a lady". Ran for cover that night, and the entire house had a laugh on me.

* At a supper club called the Cave in Frankfort in the 70's, the owner's wife always requested country music, which I really don't do. This was a high-end itallian restaurant near the state capital. Being the smart-ass I was, I put on my best Johnnie Cash, and said "Hi there. My name is George Wallace and I'm gonna be President of the United States", followed by an awfull "hear that train a comin...". Again that same poor old organ player (Tom Johnston, my long-time musical partner and mentor) had a really concerned look. When I put on my glasses, most of the croud consisted of people in town for a class reunion of Kentucky State University...one of the best historically black schools in the country.

Luckily for me, one of the guests was a professor who "got it". Within 12 bars, we had 100 sophisticated black alumni stompting their feet and doing a silly version of a pre-historic line dance. Remember, this was about 74, and governor Wallace was not exactly a popular person for members of this group.

* At the after hours place mentioned before, there was a week-end band led by a friend and his wife. I had worked with Jerry with the Little Enis band in the 60's. They asked my to sub for their bass player for one week-end. It was country music, which I don't like to play, but they were friends, so I did it. Two years later, we were still waiting for the guy to return. The clients would come downstairs from the dance hall to the dining room for breakfast, and asked Jerry and Betty to feature me upstairs on some tunes. Again, being the smart-ass I was (am, actually), I figured there was Johnnie Cash, Johnnie Paychek and Johnnie Dollar. I took the que and became Johnnie Mastercard, complete with a VISA and Mastercard sticker on my "Tele", a large foam cowboy hat and a Porter Waggoner type shirt, complete with bright silver decorations. I was introduced and came our from behind the curtain doing a "duckwalk" and yelling "charge". I thought it was hilarious. It took months for clients to start talking to me again. They all thought I was making fun of them, and I really didn't mean to.

* Finally, I was playing B-3 at the premier jazz club in Louisville. An old guy came up and said "Play Somethin'". I did what I thought was a great tune (Song for My Father, I think). He came back and said "Play Somethin". I kept "upping the ante", playing the best I had, and he still came up and said "Play Somethin". Turned out he wanted me to play "Something", the Beatles tune.

* I'm stopping now, but could probably use up all of Nigels bandwidth if I tried.

Enough ranting. Excuse the self indulgence, please.

I've had a ball in the music business. Wouldn't have had it any other way.


Play on, friends,and thanks for the trip down memory lane.


"Sentimental " old Russ

Hey, Mike. A few folks started kidding me a few years ago (*read that UD). Dave came down on a visit and we have exchanged good natured "barbs" since then.

Hey, I might just be the world's premier "Redneck Jazzer". Yea, that's it! I could specialize in country or Bluegrass versions of Miles Davis tunes!

Ya, Buddy!

"Buck" Lay

Yee hah!