The above situation actually happens quite often; I’m often offered money to perform longer than is stated in my contract. The question for me: is such a request a compliment to my skill as an entertainer, or an insult to the hard work and discipline I put into my chosen line of work?

There are two schools of thought on whether or not being an entertainer qualifies as a real job: those who are actually in the profession, who naturally see what they do as the epitome of entrepreneurship and self reliance, and those in the audience who see performers as carefree souls, wandering aimlessly from one show to another, with no real responsibilities; we do it for fun, thus it can’t be a “real job”.

It’s that second group of people who are usually the ones who ask the questions that most of us working musicians tend to hate, like “So, what do you do for a living?” or “Do you earn enough money doing this?” or usually tend to start every conversation with “Well, I used to play in a band, too”. (word of advice: NEVER start a conversation with a musician with this line: that will keep you from looking like a total idiot.) Given that entertainment is something people turn to as an escape from the monotony of daily life, they tend to see those who provide the entertainment as something different or somehow exotic, sometimes out of admiration or jealousy. This characterization, be it positive or negative, has the unfortunate effect that it causes people to not see entertainment and those who provide it as something to be taken seriously, even in situations that are very serious, like rallies, demonstrations for certain causes and political events. Also playing a role in this attitude toward performers is the fact that people generally always have an opinion on things they aren’t capable of doing very well themselves (if at all), thus empowering them to offer commentary on a job like that of an entertainer with a certain sense of superiority, regardless of how famous the entertainer may (or may not) be. A prime example: the notion that the public has a right to know about the private lives of celebrities. The idea that people can have a profession that is fun and pays well is a hard concept for many people to swallow, thus lending credence to the belief that working in the entertainment field is not real work.

In fact, being an entertainer can be a very complex business. Professional entertainers at a certain level who don’t have a staff (like me) often need skills in the fields of organization, communication, financial management, and logistics in order to work effectively; I not only go on stage and sing, I’m also the manager, booking agent, travel agent, secretary, contract lawyer and accountant. It’s only when the workload becomes too great that many working musicians get managers or agents. We do things in our jobs that many people go to school and get a degree to learn how to do, which is why I tend to get a little irate when situations such as the one mentioned above take place, because I see it as an affront to the long hours, hard work and dedication I’ve put into my craft over the years. For someone to offer me a measly fifty bucks to do one more song is somewhat of an insult; it’s like having your boss ask you to stay an extra hour or two at work to type something after you’ve been writing a report all day, because he likes the font you used in the report you just finished. The difference being that an office worker would probably lose their job if such a situation came up and they did not comply. In fact, I often do get such requests from my clients in the form of an extra encore or an entire set, but I’m usually offered a lot more than fifty bucks.

In the end it all boils down to the perception of what constitutes “having a job”. Despite what many people might think, being an entertainer is indeed a real job, and, deserves to be treated as such, thank you very much.

So, what did I learn from last week’s show?

1. I have a new appreciation for security personnel.

2. Using your recently deceased mother as an excuse to pressure a singer to do an encore is NOT CUTE.

3. Playing a near flawless show with musicians you haven’t seen in many years is a testament to the talent and skill of those musicians.

4. Free food truly does rock, even if it doesn’t taste that good.

5. Free drinks rock even more.

6. If you can’t take no for an answer, don’t ask the question.

7. Patience has its limits.

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.

The band planned to pick me up in Dresden at 2:30 PM at the train station, which was fine, except that Dresden is a seven hour train ride from home, which meant I had to leave home at 6:45 AM. Luckily the train wasn’t too full, so I could relax a little until I reached Dresden. When I reached Dresden, I was picked up by the guys and we then drove another 350 KM to the show. To get to our destination, we had to drive through the city of Prague, and rush hour traffic an Prague is no joke, as anyone who’s ever been to the Czech capital can tell you; we were of course stuck in a traffic jam, due to the endless construction zones. After we made through traffic hell, we ran into our next road trip challenge: a thunderstorm. Thankfully, it didn’t last very long, and 50 kilometers before we reached our destination, the roads were clear and the weather was good.

We arrived at our destination, and were impressed by the number of people in attendance and the great atmosphere; people were running around dressed funny, drinking and having a good time, typical for a rock festival. We were also a bit surprised by the size of the festival; small compared to Rock am Ring, of course, but still very well attended. Three stages, 12 bands, each band playing for one hour. We were the headlining band, and only band at the festival who wasn’t from the Czech Republic. The stage was huge, but with the help of great stage crew we were able to build up our gear, soundcheck and perform within a short amount of time. Within minutes the crowd was at full capacity in front of the stage, and we rocked them as hard as we could, which was a tall order, given that we hadn’t played together since February. We love playing in the Czech Republic, because the crowds have always been very responsive and ready to have a good time, which makes our job a lot easier. Of course, the majority of the crowd probably didn’t understand a word I was saying to them, but they responded anyway.

After the gig we signed autographs and sold a few CD’s, talked with the fans, and took lots of pictures. I was surprised how many of our Czech fans spoke English and German, which made the conversations with them a lot easier. Afterwards we packed up our gear and had our customary round of beer and vodka, and talked about the show. The verdict: mission accomplished.

So, what did I learn from the last show?

1. As much as I like train travel, I really hate certain routes.
2. The Czech Republic is in many aspects much more laid back than Germany.
3. Former east block countries are far more beautiful than I was lead to believe as a child.
4. Good music knows no language or cultural barriers; if it rocks, it rocks.
5. Czechs really do smoke a lot. A lot.
6. I HATE smoke machines like the devil hates holy water.
7. I REALLY HATE smoke machines!
8. “In vino veritas” rings true in almost every case.
9. Practice doesn’t always make perfect, but it comes close.
10. When thousands of people yell out your name, you must be doing something right.

Thankfully, my gigs on Thursday and Friday were a blast. The gig in the KingKa (our nickname for the King Kamehameha Club) was awesome as usual, especially considering that the club has been packed on Thursday night every week for the past 8 years; we worked hard to gain such a following, and it’s paying dividends; Thursday is the busiest night of the week for the club thanks to the band, and many of the higher paying gigs I perform all over Germany are a direct result of my appearances at the KingKa.

Friday I played at the Essen Convention Center (known in german as the “Messe”) for an event sponsored by the German Federation of Fitness Studios, known as the DSSV (Deutsche Sportstudio Verband), I was hired as the guest singer for the Freddy Wonder Combo, one of the busiest show bands in south Germany, with whom I performed last year in Wuppertal, together with a 40-piece orchestra. Of course I was stressed out, being that I had only performed once before with this band and we didn’t rehearse, but one of the advantages of playing within multiple pro musician circles is that we all end up having the same repertoire, thus making it easier to perform concerts without having to practice.

This band knows how to get a party going, so performing with them was a lot of fun, and ultimately less stressful for me. Especially entertaining was watching the bandleader Freddy drink beer out of the female lead singer’s shoe. The corniest thing I’ve seen on stage this year so far, and the crowd went crazy for it. I even saw a few people in the audience that I met years ago at other shows in other parts of the country, which is always a highlight for me in my travels. Of course there were very good looking people in the audience, but given that the majority of the crowd either worked at or owned fitness studios, it was hardly a surprise. Tight pants everywhere.

After the two very successful gigs, I arrived at the hotel and got what I had been longing for since the beginning of my gig blitz: a good night’s sleep.

So, what did I learn from the last two gigs?

1. I like trains a lot more than I thought I did.

2. I have a new appreciation for the phrase, “if you build it, they will come.”

3. Even in bad economic times, (most) people still just want to have a good time.

4. Nothing is more satisfying than watching total strangers dancing together on top of bars and tables Coyote Ugly style.

5. Half shirts or tops that show off the midsection should be banned for some people.

6. People who can dance love to show off that they can dance.

7. People who can’t dance love to show off that they can’t dance.

8. Guys with huge muscles don’t look as cool as I thought they did when I was younger.

9. Women with huge muscles (unfortunately) look even worse.

10. I really need to visit Spain more often.

11. Sleep is the most unappreciated human necessity. EVER.