There are certain undisputed truths about being a pro musician in Europe, particularly in Germany, where I work most of the time: you’re always asked to do more than you want to; you’re always treated well, but never as well as you think you should be; and the cleanliness of the bathroom in your hotel room has more of an effect on your performance at the gig than you would like to believe.

On this past five day road trip I travelled to the towns of Bregenz, Austria (directly on Lake Constance, the body of water shared by Germany, Austria and Switzerland), Mannheim, Cologne and Hamburg, a total distance of 1909 kilometers (1186 miles), all of it by train. I performed three shows with two different bands: the Bregenz gig was for a conference of IT professionals, the Cologne show for a dentist’s conference, and the Hamburg show for a large Hamburg-based logistics company. All three shows were fine as such; the same patterns evident at all these types of events were on full display: band arrives for setup and soundcheck, band waits around for food and drinks backstage, band performs, people drink, people start to dance, band finishes up, band packs up stuff, band goes home. Client is happy, band is happy.

Nice Bathrooms

That being said, there are in more cases than not certain little things that can greatly influence how a musician performs their duties at such events. An example is the quality of the hotel room they’re booked in; specifically, the cleanliness of the bathroom. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m more than a little spoiled when it comes to hotel accommodations, since I’ve been fortunate enough to worked my way up far enough in the pro musician food chain as to (almost) always get a decent hotel in the cities that I perform, always paid for by the client. I’m somewhat of a bathroom fetishist; it’s usually the first thing I check when I enter a room, and over the years I’ve seen some really “interesting” things in some really top hotels, all in the bathroom. I’ve stayed in rat holes with very clean bathrooms, and in 5-star hotels with really disgusting ones, and everything in between. Let’s just say that an improperly cleaned hotel room is a mood killer in just about any situation, but especially when you want to relax before a long show, and very many of my fellow musicians (at least the singers I know) spend a large chunk of their time in the bathroom; our vanity dictates this.

Long Gigs

Roughly eighty percent of a musicians time at a company party of similar event is spent waiting. Waiting. Waiting even more. Keep in mind that the average band arrives at a venue five hours or more before the show actually starts, depending on the size of the venue, the position of the band in the overall evening plan, and the preparation and serving of the food (if there is food to served, which there almost always is). A typical show starts between 8 and 10 PM, with “dinner music”, a.k.a. “music to be ignored by”. I hate dinner music. Seriously. There’s nothing more nerve-wracking than trying to entertain people who aren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to you. It’s often the case, however, that the band will play instrumental music, so that’s a small consolation. Afterwards, the party goes into full effect.

Very often we run into the situation that the event organizer, who generally always makes a big fuss about something prior to the start of the event, will ask us for an extra set, because he or she is so excited (alcohol-induced, of course) about the great job the band is doing, that we obviously have to play longer. I attribute this euphoric attitude to the age-old notion that musicians perform on stage purely for the fun of it; in other words, making music is “not a real job”, so it should be no problem if we play all night long, as long as we get a little extra for it. “Not a real job”; I often wonder how these event organizers would react to the knowledge that many of the pro musicians they hire for their events earn probably much more on average than they do. So much for “not being a real job”…

The Gala Event Food Chain

We musicians are indeed a spoiled bunch, at least most of the time. Granted, I’ve only ever worked as a musician in Europe, so I have no idea how it is to work a similar scene in the States, but I can imagine it’s pretty much the same everywhere. Having said that, there is a certain hierarchy in the event business; we musicians are somewhere in the middle of the food chain. We very often enjoy the perks of getting special treatment from the heads of the organizations for which the event is being held, being allowed to mingle with the guests, eating the same meals as the guests, and being able to leave right after our performance is done, all luxuries not afforded to the others who also make such events possible like the technical crew, caterers and bartenders, security personnel and cleanup crew, or the event agencies themselves.

At the end of the day, however, we are no less “service crew” as the others are: we have to do what we’re told, when we’re told to do it. When we’re asked to play extra sets, more often than not we honor that request, for the simple fact that not honoring it could jeopardize our standing with the client, thus making the prospect of future gigs at other events doubtful, thus affecting a future source of income. Over the years, though, I’ve modeled my attitude toward such requests after the motto, “not all money is good money”. Sometimes, though, beggars can’t be choosers, especially if you have bills to pay and a lifestyle to support.

So, what have I learned from my latest road trip?

1. Everyone was a musician at some point in their existence.

2. For some people, speaking into a microphone is the highlight of their year.

3. If you see a group of 4 or more men huddled around the dessert table, it’s most likely the band.

4. DJ’s have a much easier job than musicians do.

5. DJ’s have a much harder job than musicians do.

6. If one person asks if the band can play longer, it’s most likely the one who will actually pay the band.

7. If more than one person asks if the band can play longer, they most likely have nothing to do with the ones who actually pay the band.

8. Sometimes we take the amount of time we spend traveling for granted.

9. As a songwriter, I envy the person who wrote “I Will Survive”.

10. As a musician, If I ever meet the person who wrote “I Will Survive”, they’re getting punched in the nose.