Dweezil and Me Regarding the Right Way to Cover Songs

In an interview, Dweezil Zappa chimed in on what he perceives as apathy or laziness from guitarists playing covers. From the article:

"There's a lot of people that — and sometimes it just comes down to laziness — they're like, 'Well, I'll just do my own thing.' Because they hear enough of it, and they're like, 'I'm in the ballpark. I'll just make my [own thing].'"

"But to me, when I was learning songs, if it was Van Halen or if it was something that Randy Rhoads was playing, I didn't feel like I was playing the song at all unless I played exactly what I heard them doing. And I wanted to learn the nuances. I wanted to try to get the sound. I wanted to do that. Because to me, that was the whole package of playing the song."

Dweezil recalled that his goal as a young player learning the instrument has not deviated much from today. That is, to recreate a piece of music he is covering authentically.

"So when somebody says, 'Hey, I can play 'Eruption,' I'm like, 'Great! Let me see it.' And if it's not what I heard on the record, then, to me, it's not it. As a kid, that was the goal: was to try to get as close as I could on any of that stuff, which is not easy. I mean, it's been a lifelong obsession to learn how to play a lot of this kind of stuff."

This has been a point of contention for me, for a very long time now. Up until about 15 years ago, you'd only catch me playing cover songs as filler in between original compositions, and on my terms. No "Skynyrd" (or other overplayed stuff you could literally go to the bar next door and hear some other terrible group do crappy versions of), no godawful modern "country", and no flavor-of-the-month garbage. I generally disregarded and frankly mocked the idea of being in a cover band (because more often than not, cover bands are where musicians go to die), and the only thing that changed that slightly was when I started getting calls to get paid to fill-in for whatever tweaker/drunk (hi, Joey!) failed to show up to a gig, or who got banned from a venue (again, hi, Joey!), or who flaked-out and didn't learn his material. Even 15 years after conceding to the lure of the quick and easy weekend dollar playing lousy, corny-as-hell, played-to-death songs, I still think it's often hokey and halfassed, and I learned really quickly just how low the standards were, and are. But, I guess there's something to be said for getting paid to put about 60-70% into a performance and still have people act like you're some kind of god among men, so whatev's. 

By "low standards", I mean both musicians AND audiences. I was doing hired-gun cover gigs for 3 or 4 years before I actually really sat down and learned any "new songs", because 9 out of 10 bands literally play the same crap, and 99 out of 100 don't really even play their covers "right". I think one would use a description like "loose interpretations",even with chord charts, lyric sheets and other crutches. I just winged it, played whatever sounded "close enough" and didn't worry about investing too much energy into it since everyone else seemed to be screwing around and not playing them properly anyway; funnily enough, I "learned the right way of playing" most of the songs onstage, by accident, polishing turds and using the experience as "paid practice". For performing musicians in the bar scene, those low expectations from audiences just looking for a good time are a godsend. It's decent money for not a lot of actual work. Never let a musician talk your ear off about "hard work", because the hardest part of playing a cover gig is loading in/out. And dealing with cutthroat egos. The rest is like hunting dairy cows with scoped high-powered rifles and calling yourself a "skilled hunter".

Cover musicians are a dime a dozen (and that might even be a GENEROUS estimate...should be more like, a nickel), in particular "singers" and guitarists. Some are decent, most really aren't. But the ones who stand out are the ones who pay attention to detail. It's often a subtle contribution, like a certain chord voicing that most players are lazy with, or playing the hummable, recognizable parts of guitar solos and not just some doltish fast blues-pentatonic or wheedly-wheedly masturbatory exercise that screams "look at me, okay, that'll do!" I do believe there is room in most songs one might cover for players to put a little stank on parts, but you also have to nail the important bits. I see a lot of guitarists play too much and more or less ignore what NEEDS to be played, and I'm not a fan. It's self-serving and hacky. The exception is when you're doing a completely different format than the source artists (like Local H or the Presidents of the USA), or are reinterpreting songs in a different genre (Cake, Dread Zeppelin), but otherwise, show a little self-respect and play it right if you're not just goofing off.

I still learn 90% of anything I end up playing onstage by listening to something while driving around, or streaming music in the background when I'm working, and then eventually I'll dink around and figure out the remaining bits before I go on. I think Dweezil's right, insofar as if I'm listening to someone performing a familiar song and something is notably "wrong", I check out in 20 seconds or less. Crummy guitar tone? Bye. Using power-chords when you should be using full chords or vice-versa? Nah. Wanking around instead of playing a revered lick or solo? Gross. Overplaying literally at any time? Fucking weirdo. Using too much distortion or delay and turning a straight-up rock song into some bedroom-guitar-hero, dated, pseudometal cacophony? Get the hell out of here. Even though I am not exerting myself physically, mentally or artistically by playing other people's music, I try (in most cases) to pay proper homage to the original artists and keep the song sounding familiar. Depending on which band I'm playing with, I may have my trusty old Digitech RP500 with dozens of patches to emulate Angus' or Slash's Marshall, Mike Campbell's or Neil Young's Fender Deluxes, Lindsey Buckingham's volume-pedal-swells, an old Twin Reverb for some chicken-pickin', and so on. Or, in another band I just stick to a basic pedalboard with a couple different drive pedals, a delay, a wah and a Whammy Pedal, done. Depends on the quality of the crowd for me. Meaning, I'm more interested in "impressing" the attendees of a high-paying gig (corporate event, frat/sorority functions, etc) by nailing "the tone", whereas for the average shitty dive bar crowd who'll be buzzed midway through the first set and drunk by the second, an approximation will do. 

But regardless of what guitar or rig I pick, I try to keep covers familiar sounding and close to what the audience expects. I have watched bandmates and fill-in/substitute players turn gigs into an opportunity to force people to listen to them exercise their scales (and to show off their gear/wardrobe), and it's painful to listen to/watch, to the point of me being embarrassed FOR them. I would be insulted, as an audience member, having to listen to some twat goof off on guitar noodling and fucking up a song I like. But I always have to remember that audiences are largely made up of people who are not musicians, or are not actually all that musically knowledgeable. Most of them can't tell the drummer hiccupped a beat, or that the bass player was playing the wrong notes entirely, or that the singer actually kind of sucks, so I'd guess most of them aren't worried about atrocious guitar tone, wanky guitar playing or fucking up a chord progression. However, I see it more of a self-respect thing in those instances, where sure, THEY might not know what I'm doing (right OR wrong), but I do, and I have to evaluate my performance and be proud of it (or mortified by it).

So decide if you're comfortable just halfassing it and be "good enough for the drunk dive bar crowd), or if you want to sound actually good, competent and have something to be proud of---well, as "proud" as one can be simply covering other people's work, anyway. But don't be too awful offended when some of us aren't the least bit impressed by horrible renditions of songs and piss-poor musicianship that overshadows any technical prowess or street-cred you think you may have. 

Re-blog : 10 Things Indie Musicians Do That Make People Hate Indie (from Monitor Down, 2009)

 

This one by Peter Kimmich is too good not to re-blog. It's sad that an article almost two decades old still remains so relevant. Unfortunately, all it takes to ruin the fun for everyone else is a handful of insufferably bad apples, but when it's "the norm", well...that's soul-draining. This might hit close to home for some, but those who see it on the reg can appreciate both the brutal honesty AND the humor (intentional and otherwise). Enjoy!

First of all, I love indie. I love it like a 15-year-old boy loves Megan Fox, sans anything involving posters on ceilings. So before you get up in my face with loud, defensive, aggravated comments about how great it is — I know, I know. Mellow.

But again like our halter-wearing temptress, there are a lot of seemingly reasonable people who HATE indie. And when you start to talk to these people about their hatred (once they get past the asinine jabs about hipster jeans, beards and technical guitar skills, like those even matter), you start to realize they may actually be on to something. Because even though indie is awesome, it’s only really awesome if it’s done right. And sometimes, you just have to take a loved one by the collar and tell them when they’re not doing something right. Right?

Here are some of the things indie musicians do that piss off people who otherwise have good taste in music. (Subtext: if you hate indie because the only style of music you like is speed metal or radio country, then this list, and my entire blog, will probably mean nothing to you.)

1. Whine a lot more than necessary. Most people understand that songwriting is about expressing emotions, so like-minded listeners can identify when their parents get divorced and they’re shuttled back and forth like a fake ID at a sorority house. But those alleged “genuine” emotions shouldn’t cause stool to run soft in the bowel, and those “genuine” lyrics shouldn’t have to become ironic Facebook status updates. Despite the majority of indie songwriters who express their inner ingénue at an appropriate level, a lot of them tend to dwell on the idea of adult male vulnerability, riding it like the bow of the Titanic until people in the crowd are considering dialing a hotline. The result: indie rock that is backed only by overdramatic 14-year-old girls and moms who are just glad their kid isn’t listening to Insane Clown Posse. And the woe in my heart bleeds like yesterday’s undercooked pot roast.

2. Sing like the deaf. Okay, part of being vulnerable and “real” is not having an overtly superior singing style. No one expects to be empathizing with Bono, or relating on a personal level to Axl Rose. (Yikes.) Still, there are a couple of fundamentals that are just part of singing — like pitch control, and not making the audience laugh out loud. So when the biggest Clap Your Hands Say Yeah single sounds like Joe Assface got up on karaoke night and ran a schoolbus over the solfege scale, it’s tough to hold the contempt in check. It’s even worse when it’s a cover of a song people are already familiar with, like Clem Snide’s abhorrent version of Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful,” or Ben Gibbard’s cringe-inducing take on Bjork’s “All is Full of Love.” I don’t care how cute his own songs are, taking on Bjork’s most well-heard single with his northern-accented po-boy whimper is like climbing Mount St. Helens in a T-shirt and Converse low-tops. When the tone that comes across is “this didn’t sound like it did in my head, but oh well,” something is probably lost.

3. Shamelessly imitate other musicians. How many more indie lead singers are going to try to sound like Ian Curtis before someone devotes a top-10 list to it? Even though the Interpol/Editors/White Lies/Horrors/She Wants Revenge singing style is still cool almost 30 years after the end of Joy Division, indie bands with that sound are about as rare as lice at a Phish concert. At least there’s the rejuvenating presence of the Libertines/Arctic Monkeys/Bloc Party/Larrikin Love/Paddingtons/We Are Scientists “reckless” sound to remind us that anyone can roll out of bed in the morning and record an album between snorting lines and scraping the paint off vintage Telecasters. (And they’re all better than the Panic at the Disco/Fall Out Boy/Paramore/The Academy Is…/MCR pseudo-indie outfits with pop-punk mafia ties. )

4. Fail to grasp playing instruments. Once again, the everyman’s musician doesn’t need to play guitar like Eddie Van Halen. (Or Blake Mills, formerly of Simon Dawes.) It can even be a point of pride to be “self-taught” … but it shouldn’t come into question whether the guitarist is using his hands or his feet. Case in point: Babyshambles frontman Pete Doherty and his zombie-esque guitarist Mick Whitnall are a page out of the “Make Sure You’ll Be Able to Remember the Recording Session” manual. As talented as Doherty is, his band has released possibly the two worst-sounding albums in music, and yes, that crashing sound at the end of Down in Albion is him falling on his wasted ass. But even musicians who are too bombed to employ the musical skills they have are still superior to the ones who are not wasted, and just try to play like they are. Even worse, there’s the whole sub-layer of completely un-musical local musicians who try to get away with “unconventional” techniques, like playing the guitar like a stand-up bass, relying on “tones” or feedback to create music, or literally just holding the guitar throughout a show only to play two strings during the loud part. Just learn a song, butterfingers.

5. Create noise experiments. Lou Reed tried it with Metal Machine Music, an album consisting largely of feedback – and even that was regarded as a joke. Imagine, then, the impact your crappy, untrained garage band will have on the musical landscape when you unleash your new brand of electric-drill-inspired, ultra-distorted noise music for all to appreciate. Will it be “refreshing” when the opening notes of your first performance sound like a large train trying to shove through a small tunnel? Will the squeaky chair hooked up to a loose guitar pickup break anyone out of their sad, close-minded funk? Will they “get it” when you finally chop the head off your guitar with a bolt cutter at the end of your set? Probably not, you ridiculous excuse for a musician – please fuck off, and refer to number 4 above.

6. Selectively hate major labels. Indie musicians take pride in being independent, and in getting their music noticed without the aid of the big, soul-sucking music industry monster. They enjoy picking apart bands they’ve heard of who have “sold out,” changed their sound a little, and started touring with Velvet Revolver and Jane’s Addiction. “Damn, the Frog Bots get one deal and they change completely, and now they’re only playing for meatheads and teeny boppers at $75 a ticket. Way to betray the scene, man.” Unless, of course, it’s a friend of theirs. In that case, “did you hear about the Narwhal Endeavor? They just got the deal of a lifetime, and now they’re touring with Pearl Jam. That’s awesome.” And finally, what happens when a suit comes to knock on their own door? Everyone and their roommate shits a brick, that’s what happens. So much for integrity, I guess.

7. Have obscure-band-offs. Sports guys like to rattle off stats, car guys like to compare engines, and techies like to talk about the latest gear they bought. But somehow, none of it is as infuriating as the veiled contempt in an indie rocker’s voice when he (or she) name-drops an ultra-secret underground band he (or she) is hoping you’ll be stumped by. “Yeah, we (.2) were handing out CDs at the Glimmering Sock Muppets show last night. Killer band.” This is followed by an expectant stare. The only way to respond gracefully is to name-drop the primary influence of the Glimmering Sock Muppets, or at least point out how awesome it is that they poached the lead singer from the Kitten Tossers last week. Though the former is preferable. Of course, if you don’t recognize them, your only hope of staying cool is to actually be in a more noteworthy band — in which case your non-recognition might even cause the questioner to question his own sense of band judgment. Then again, you could always do some research in the used section at Amoeba, you poseur.

8. Go for the “indie look.” Wearing frayed vintage stuff isn’t necessarily the biggest fault of indie musicians — but then there are the ones who try to out-indie everyone by sporting every indie fashion trend at once. They usually end up looking like one of Lou Pearlman’s sadistic boy-band experiments: greasy, deliberately tangled hair; the light stubble that says “I’m not overly focused on my outward appearance;” the prerequisite all-weather scarf; the mod hat no one wears outside of an Urban Outfitters catalog; suspenders; the collage of concert wristbands; the v-neck that almost exposes nipple, for that subtle feminine mystery; the obligatory women’s fur-lined jacket, just to make it clear they don’t care what you think of them. And of course, no indie look would be complete without the nearly constant semblance of posing for something — something such as the inevitable barrage of Myspace photography that comes after the first round of dirty martinis. The only justice here is the notion that, according to historic fashion norms, these guys will be trying to pull off “bohemian vogue” until well after senility has set in. Eff that, ya whipper snapper.

9. Idolize their genre above all others. I’ve met metal guys who are into reggae, and hip-hop guys who are into funk and disco. There’s even an entire segment of punks who get into country. But for indie musicians, the only thing better than indie rock is indie rock and beer. Just take an indie rocker on a long road trip and they’ll have something to say about everything that comes out of your stereo until you start playing Muse, the Smiths, or something that sounds like Muse or the Smiths. I’ll admit that I’m living proof of this, if not to the degree that’s possible when you put someone with musical opinions into one of the most clique-y genres ever created. At least it’s easy to start up a conversation with them at a party: just mention the undeniable production benefits of auto-tune. You’ll start a landslide.

10. Worship Radiohead. Actually, I can’t blame indie guys for this, because Radiohead is awesome. But hey, some people hate them. Makes sense to me.

Original article found here: https://www.monitordown.com/2009/10/28/10-things-indie-musicians-do-that-make-people-hate-indie/

Removing Dead Weight Pt3 : Parting is Such Sweet---er...no, it isn’t... - Mentally Preparing for "Mandatory Band Membership Restructuring” and Dealing with the Fallout

 

In this final part to the "Dead Weight Trilogy", I'm just going to give you a little encouragement, advice and motivation to act on what you know needs to be done now. 

As someone who has been on both sides of the cheesy soap-opera called "the firing of a bandmate" at one point or another throughout the years (literally only once having been fired, but still, it DID happen that time), I can confirm that it's rarely pretty. Most of the time, the individual being dismissed is the only one in the band who didn't see it coming. And it’s no secret that musicians, in general, can be some of the most needy, melodramatic and petty people on the planet, which leads to "complications" in situations that should be cut-and-dry. I have always said semi-jokingly that the one thing that might make me just quit playing music altogether one day is...well..."musicians".

When someone becomes a liability, it's time to act. It's no longer a time to "talk" to deaf ears about a problem that will not simply go away (or to repeat one’s self for the Nth time expecting the individual to straighten up “this time”). And no one is a "jerk" or "asshole" because they don't let someone else embarrass them, or because they refuse to let someone disrespect them and waste their time. No one is “unreasonable” for holding another to the same standard of courtesy, priority, work ethic and respect he/she holds him-/herself to. It's NOT out-of-bounds for you to be dismissed from a band because you aren't a good fit, aren't bringing enough to the table or aren't truly carrying your own weight. No one is so special or so talented that they should get a pass, and odds are, if you're "in between bands", it's not your first rodeo. And my heart goes out to people backed into the corner who are forced to have to restructure their band, even if it was under amicable circumstances, because it's never a walk in the park. But often, the more urgency in play, the less-amicable the inevitable split will be, and there's just no easy way. Well, the actual dismissal part is as simple as you want it to be--could be a call, a text, an email or a band meeting. Just have your facts in your corner, say what you need to say and done. For the recipient of the proverbial eviction notice though, the feelings could vary from relief with a side of restrained jubilation (like the time I was let go from a band) all the way to psychotic rage. You might get lucky and have a "healthy breakup" with said member (now-former-member), but always be prepared to see that person's absolute worst come out. If the person is a levelheaded, reasonable person, you might just get a little snarkiness or attitude, but if he/she is a mercurial or eccentric individual, things could get nasty.

Regardless, if you've reached the point where your working relationship is no longer productive or enjoyable, something must be done. 9 out of 10 times, there will be more than one band member who wants to see the problematic bandmate shown the exit. But in that rare case where you're the only one, be objective and ask yourself if it might be an issue with yourself more than anything. You might be able to compartmentalize and work around it provided the band is flourishing, the gigs are rewarding/lucrative and you otherwise like the band or the music you're playing. But I can tell you from experience (and as you've seen in my previous blog), there are just some personality types that don't make for good bandmate material. If they make you dread performing, rehearsals, songwriting sessions, etc., they're sapping your mojo, and something's got to give, even if that means you have to recuse yourself from the band in the event that the rest of the band gets on well, leaving you the odd-man-out. Never disregard the fact that there WILL be a reaction from the fired member, one way or the other...it just depends on their personality and mental health stability how reactive they'll be.

From the perspective of the now-bandless party, when it comes to life in general, owning up to a mistake, bad life choice or failure to do one's job reliably/consistently is never an easy task, but it's more honorable and truthful than pretending you “don't know what went wrong”, or even worse, trying to convince anyone who’ll listen that it's simply some mere coincidence or conspiracy and that everyone’s just out to get you. Not saying that sometimes the conspiracy paranoia isn't dead on the money (I've seen it firsthand), but that's the less-frequent scenario. So BE OBJECTIVE. When it comes to being excused from a band, it's disingenuous and atrocious for someone to go through extraneous efforts to try to convince their entourage and acquaintances that it was somehow ANYONE else’s fault but their own, but the fact remains that everyone else in the band voted to sack them. Whether unanimously or by majority-rule, you're out, and be truthful about why, no matter how hurt your feelings might be over it. It will save you embarrassment, and keep you from being "that guy" who spreads disinformation gaslighting the people who collectively decided they didn't want to work with you anymore.

But it happens, even when dealing with musicians well into middle age who, based on my personal experience, are often surprisingly far worse than people half their age when it comes to band (and personal) drama. And it's especially infuriating when you (as a remaining member of a band dismissing a problem child) take the high road and keep the "official" word diplomatic, respectful and vague in the name of helping to protect the reputation of someone who probably doesn't actually deserve it (Hi again, Ben!), only to find out that he/she in turn has slandered and defamed you and your group, played victim to whomever will listen, talking trash because he/she has absolutely nothing better to do and no other reason to exist. When he/she resorts to outright LIES to vilify their former bandmates, it speaks louder and more negatively about his/her own character than anyone else's in the group, that he/she feels such insecurity or jealousy that they must try to discredit others in a vain attempt to raise themselves up a little, and you need to remember that ultimately, karma will prevail. When the folks attending the pity-party aren't hearing "all the details", and are only hearing this one story from an individual who has a desperate, vested interest in making sure people believe his/her side of the story over the painful truth, accountability is absent and becomes irrelevant. And those people don't realize they're being played (victimized) in the process also, adding insult to injury in the end. Unfortunately, this is a very real possibility that you need to be prepared for, just in case. 

For the band's fans, friends, hangers-on and such, sure, there are always "two sides to the story", just make sure you hear both of those sides so you can decide objectively which party is truly at fault. Keep in mind that the band as a collective decided to fire the member, and it's more often than not for very legitimate reasons, despite what the disgruntled individual may want friends/associates/random strangers to believe. Simple personality conflicts or clashes in chemistry between a couple members rarely (if ever) end in the band firing either member, as usually one or the other will simply quit on their own, done deal. So if someone tells you an outrageously vague story about how he/she was just "for whatever (unknown) reason" suddenly and unexpectedly let go from their musical project by all its other members as a band decision, you might want to inquire deeper before judging the multiple people who made this collective choice in direction. Odds are, the majority parties have a perfectly logical reason, or were actually just trying to not only protect their own integrity by not being melodramatic about it, but also are protecting friends/fans/YOU from awful performances or watching band drama unfold. It's your responsibility to make sure you are informed if you're going to take a "side" on a matter like this, or MOST IMPORTANTLY: you need to ask yourself why you are thought so little of that you are being coerced into taking sides in the first place, and why he/she is so intent that you believe what he/she wants you to believe blindly. So the next time a salty person who's been handed his/her walking papers by their band tells you someone/everyone else is “difficult” or “hard to work with”, or that the parties being insulted are “jerks” or “assholes”, make sure you grill the butthurt accuser a little. Ask them why. Ask for examples. And demand the truth. If they won’t give it to you, or their explanations don’t add up, I’m sure their former bandmates would be more than glad to educate you in the matter and would greatly appreciate the opportunity to clear up any falsehoods. Also ask yourself, why is this person exerting energy being a negative twat instead of forming his/her own new musical project? Perhaps he/she has trouble finding musicians willing to gamble on his/her sobriety, personality and reliability? There’s a reason the band who axed him/her is still getting by just fine in his/her absence or possibly even has improved overall without the hindrances. So think about that while you’re listening to the next round of whining and moaning before forming a conclusive opinion.

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be whiny washout weekend warrior rockstar-wannabes. Or at least make sure if they do end up as such, that they can take their licks when their irresponsibility comes back to bite them, and will act like an adult about it when it does. And musicians, word gets around when you act a fool and spread BS. So act your age, PLEASE! You're making the rest of us look bad, and not for the reason you intended!!!

Removing Dead Weight Pt2 : Sure, But How Much SHOULD You Endure and How Do You Implement a Change?

In my last blog I discussed a particular situation where a key member was rendered incapable of doing his job due to illness or alcoholic misadventure. Most of my posts are at least somewhat autobiographical in origin, based on situations I've found myself in or people I've found myself dealing with, and this is obviously the case here. With this kind of thing, in the back of my mind I try to believe it will work out one way or the other, however you never quite know when, or which way the shit will actually go down. One of the most embarrassing instances of having to implement a contingency was on June 8, 2018. I had anticipated it was coming any day now, and it became clear that night, no longer a mystery as to when it would happen, or what would need do be done. I don't have any reason to name names other than the "Ben" I referenced a couple blogs back, because those who were there know all the details, and those who know me will fully be in-the-know about the situation, and can appreciate my perspective from "the other side", in case there was any doubt, misrepresentation or curiosity. Unlike Ben, we were civil and wanted simply to be rid of him dragging us down. Ben, on the other hand, was so utterly butthurt and in denial of his own accountability (as most low-EQ narcissists are) that he took to the streets to try to get the band blacklisted at every venue for "screwing him over", conveniently leaving out the part where we fired him for being unprofessional, disrespectful to audiences and venues, and simply not doing his job. Ben, in his impotent rage, gaslit the ever-loving fuck out of everyone else, played the victim, and as often happens when folks with NPD are faced with the consequences of their own failures or actions (right, "Jenny"?), the make their rounds to get their histrionic false narrative out there first, in order to sway opinions and bias to their favor. Unfortunately, it works in most cases, and there are a lot of people out there who have been played (and thus are "victims" in their own right now) because they let a narcissist manipulate their feelings, opinions and allegiances. So our band dismissed him respectfully, keeping the torrid details to ourselves, and he invented a different reality where everyone else was wrong, and he had not, in fact, let everyone down or exhausted his last chances. I vowed that in the future I would not prioritize diplomacy over the truth, because "those kinds of people" are incapable of appreciating it or simply moving the fuck on. So what actually happened, you ask?

The tragic irony is that the first set of the performance that night was actually pretty strong. For probably the very first time in my membership of the band in question up till that point, I was smiling onstage for more than just a couple songs, and was actually having a [*gasp!*] pretty good time. The overall stage sound was cooperating with us, everyone was playing/singing well and the audience was actually tuned in. I also had just found out one of my other projects (another cover-band, but a much more professional and stress-free situation with some folks who were like literal family), was being put down permanently due to one of the members' health, and I had come to some kind of grips that I was going to try to work with this situation, despite my lament and disappointment at lyric sheets onstage and some pretty serious personality clashes. I was trying. But back to the specific night's show. As covers gigs go, it wasn't terrible during that first set. Certainly overall the best set this particular group had played, ever. And I'm not exaggerating. That's why what followed was perplexing, depressing, infuriating and catalytic.

The self-appointed frontperson of the group had already been talked to about performance fitness in the weeks leading up to the gig, more accurately the importance of not getting shitfaced onstage at a performance. This seemed to be a non-issue at this point, after having had a few shows of no incidents (the last embarrassing one being, maybe not-so-coincidentally, a the very same club a couple months earlier), and I think maybe that contributed to the overall ease and positive vibes of that first set, not feeling guarded about that from the start. But I noticed there were a few shots downed during that first set, along with the first bottle or two of Natty Light out of a bucket. God knows what got drank during the between-set break, because the bucket was empty and little plastic shot cups abound. Second set started off mostly fine, but halfway through, things started getting sloppy. REALLY sloppy. By the fourth-to-last song, the morale dropped out as the drunken stupor kicked in, with slurred lyrics (and the wrong words, despite the lyrics on the iPad in front). By the final two songs of the set, dude could barely stand, much less play guitar or sing. It was utterly mortifying. That was it. I was done. After the final song in the set, I laid down my guitar gently, took a few deep breaths, and walked out to my car to contemplate how I was going to handle the situation.

As I was walking back around to the front of the club, I saw the bassist and his girlfriend talking, in what appeared to be a fairly heated conversation. Much to my surprise, he was as embarrassed and mad as me (quite profound, considering he and Ben were regular hang-out buddies and all), and he had enough as well. Now we were getting somewhere. When the drummer found us, the discussion began. The bassist's girlfriend kept trying to talk us down asking us as there's anything we could do to finish the night, turn him down or play over him or whatever, and I fucking refused. I told them I wasn't going back on. I gave them the option that the only way I'll go back on was if the problem child sits out the set, but I was not going back on stage with that motherfucker, period. Ever. So that was the end of it.

Inside, our staggering other member first stumbled around the stage singing(?) into the mic along with the jukebox, and then pouted and moped around when he realized we were done for the night; and after HIS OWN girlfriend split leaving the bassist's girlfriend helped him load out, he proceeded to pass out on a table at the bar. I made it clear to the other two that I'm tired of showing up doing my part and getting paid the same as the person who comes in and halfasses the whole damn time to begin with and basically gets paid to get fucked up (often drinking the entire "band tab" without help from the rest of us). I drove home angry and disgusted, but at the same time, perversely relieved because I knew that this was the end of having to deal with someone I barely could stand to be in the same room with, let alone to share a stage with and "back". I am better than that. And now I had the ultimate "out", one way or the other.

The next morning, Ben called the bassist, claiming to be unclear as to why everyone was pissed at him, and stating that he (and I quote) "didn't remember" what went on. HELLO???

Here's a hint to all you party-pros: if you drank so much you "black out", you should not have been performing. When you are being paid to do a job, you should not be letting yourself overindulge and the responsibility to earn your portion of the payment.

I had no intent to discuss it, negotiate it or give someone a "second, second chance" after being disrespected and embarrassed like that. I would find out that Ben spent that whole weekend obsessed with us "looking for a new singer"; again, this is someone who never acknowledged or took me seriously when I reminded him that I have always fronted bands, and in fact, co-fronted the act which had just retired that previous week. The guy also never acknowledged or "liked" my solo artist page (original work), presumably again because if he refused to acknowledge its existence, it somehow could be ignored and he didn't have to admit I had a life outside of backing him up and making him look good. Hell, HOW many times did I have to step up to sing an Alice in Chains or Soundgarden song because he'd thrown his voice out earlier that week drinking, smoking and doing karaoke??? He could not seem to fathom the possibility that I was going to do his job in the event he was dismissed. "Bitch," I thought to myself, "I am going to sing. We don't need a 'new' singer." He failed to put two and two together that the months of nagging about learning lyrics, learning how to coordinate the singing/playing of certain parts and the importance of "rehearsal Vs. practice" was not just bitching and moaning on my part: it was a threat, and a promise. Maybe it was just denial, not wanting to think about the fact that a "lowly sideman" (in his eyes) would step up and take his place. Maybe it was hubris and complacency. Maybe it was a lack of realization that he was as disposable as anyone else, I dunno'. The day after he was dismissed, and without a single "rehearsal", when we were playing a mid-week bike-night gig, I took over. I was already prepared to sing and play 80% of the set-list, so aside from leaving out a few songs I really didn't like having to play anyway, along with one or two that absolutely HAD to have two guitarists, we were just fine. In fact, folks who had never seen the band before didn't realize the performance wasn't as it had always been. Despite some really disturbing bromance drama which I won't go into detail about between Ben and the venue owner (who was strangely shook by us having fired his friend, obviously unaware of WHY because he wasn't told the whole story), the crowd was more than happy, and the night went over without a hitch. And remember those lyric sheets I've mentioned in previous blogs, which I was told that the "audience doesn't care about" and "doesn't pay any attention to"? Well, MORE THAN ONE person came up to shake my hand addressing my lack of any reference materials onstage (so....suck it, you fat greasy fuck). The night ended on a sour note when it was time to get paid, but the details are really unimportant, mental and petty at this point, but it involved the venue owner's personal feelings about his buddy having been dismissed from the band. We spent a day or two wondering what we could've done differently, but our concerns were completely erased the following Saturday night, when we played to a packed, eager house in downtown, this time with nothing but praise from not just the audience but the venue as well, full pay (without incident) from the management and the vindication of having justified our existence as-is. There were a couple of the band's longtime friends/fans who were confused (from us having kept the circumstances surrounding Ben's firing off the "official" blog/pages), and a little bummed at the loss of someone they had grown accustomed to, but that happens. The best you can do is prove the band is still strong, will continue on, and hope they give it a chance instead of writing it off because of some incorrect assumption or weird allegiance. It's a group. The group is NOT "this guy" or "that guy". It is a GROUP. And the collective comes first. Never forget that.

So ultimately, what I said in my previous blog was correct, and you had best be ready, willing and able should you have to step-up and do the job. Yes, it means a little more work, but at the trade-off of your actual stress level going down exponentially. I was ready, and did not let my bandmates or the audience down. I do not regret the decision, because when you give someone almost two years to learn songs, and several chances to stop embarrassing your band onstage, you've done your due diligence, as they say. No guilt at that point. I jumped in feet-first, kicked more ass than I have any business kicking, and was absolutely fine continuing on as a power-trio unless I happened to run across a rhythm guitarist who can also provide good enough backing vocals to make me want to hire on a fourth member.

This wasn't the only time I've had this kind of thing happen, but one of the most convoluted and comical. I mean, there was also the time back about 15 years ago when I was with another cover-band whose frontman got stumbling-drunk the last set after his "old lady" decided to bail with another cover-band front man and that dude's wife to go to HIS gig in a neighboring town (knowing her, presumably also to engage in some booger-sugar-and-threeway action with them as well before his gig) and he was feeling sorry for himself. I had to step up that night as well. Wildly enough, also a June gig. And then there was the time a shitty indie project I worked with was supposed to open for a band but at the last minute they decided they weren't going to headline, and stuck us in the headlining slot with only an hour's worth of material ready. Not only did I have to call out changes for a bunch of alternative covers we'd never played together to the drummer and bassist, but I also had to do lead vocals on almost all of them, because the singer (who I need to interject and note caused us to get poor responses from the audience AND blacklisted at that and another venue because of his inability to sing) didn't know them or couldn't sing them. One thing ALL of these examples have in common is that in every case, the vocalists blamed everything but themselves, and thought they were above the law--had any of the rest of us gotten too inebriated to perform and embarrassed the respective bands, we'd have been sacked on the spot. So it's NOT an isolated incident, my friends. If it happens once, it'll happen again. Watch out.

At the end of the day, always stick to your guns, and be ready when you have to pull the trigger. Most importantly, when you step up, eat it up. Revel in it. Don't give anyone any reason to doubt the band's decisions. And never renege. This is YOUR time. YOUR band, as much as anyone's. YOUR health. YOUR future. Own it. 

Power-Duos : We're "Bands" Too!

 

Much like saying that a DJ is NOT a "musician" and that "singers" who rely on auto-tune should be ran out of the village by a mob with torches and pitchforks to be forever shunned for their lack of musicianship and integrity, this blog will likely get under some folks' skin and I will be accused of "gatekeeping" or something. But fuck it. Call me what you will, but what you CAN'T call me is a "liar"...

Ever since just before the Revelator trainwreck imploded several years back, I've been focusing a lot of my original songwriting and performing energy on a "power-duo" format. In fact, the spark of interest of doing a power-duo came from that failed project, when I found myself having to come up with an interesting and plausible means of covering for our bassist at some live performances due to some scheduling issues--we didn't want to cancel the shows, and I really didn't want to have do them as acoustic shows, because I prefer playing electric. So I got to thinking about a few of the songs that had simpler bass guitar parts, and started coming up with ways that I could fake the bass guitar part along with what I'm playing on guitar.

I started doing some deep diving on bands that only had two members (a guitar player and a drummer), like Local H, The White Stripes, the flat Duo Jets and a couple others. But then I also had recently been turned on to the British group Royal Blood, featuring a bass player and drummer. In comparing Local H and Royal Blood, the formula is basically the same, except the instruments are reversed. In Local H, Scott Lucas uses a separate pickup mounted just underneath his lowest two or three strings and he runs a separate signal out to a different pedal board or whatever and into a bass rig, while still having the regular guitar pickup going to his guitar pedal board and into his guitar rig. I'm still not entirely sure if he uses some sort of octave effect to create a bass note, or if he just turns the bass frequencies up on the amp EQ, but in my head, I was thinking to myself that if I can somehow drop that signal an octave so that it's a legitimate bass note, it would sound pretty authentic. Even listening to some of the live performances by Local H, I can't quite figure out if he's actually doing a low octave on his bass, but that's the special sauce that I was going for. Royal Blood did the same thing, except for basically the guy just runs a stereo signal into two different setups, and he uses some effects that can not only create the octave higher, but in some cases also a fifth, so that it creates a power chord sound, and he runs that side into a guitar rig, while running his standard bass guitar signal into a bass rig. I also through a little bit of consideration in there for the Presidents of the United States of America, because between the two of them (Chris Ballew and whichever other guitarist was in the band at any given time), there are only five strings on the guitars in the entire band, one guy has two and the other has three, but aside from the higher octave third string, they're playing the same octave even, and they managed to make it sound huge. So I had a lot to consider and work with.

After I determined what songs we could still do if I could pull it off, I started getting into the mad scientist part of it. The first one I built was kind of roughly based on the Stratocaster that Scott Lucas plays sometimes with Local H, which had half of a Fender Precision Bass pick up mounted at an angle under the lower strings, ran to a separate jack (I would later refine this to a TRS cable, with the "tip" going from the guitar pickup to the guitar rig and the "ring" from the "bass" pickup to a bass rig thanks to a splitter I made in a pedal enclosure). The first setup I used for this purpose, I used a cheap little processor that I would set to a pitch shifting effect to get my low octave for my bass guitar sound, and then I would just run the guitar portion into a standard amp (later I moved to two dedicated small pedalboards with guitar and bass uses, respectively). It worked spectacularly, and we did a number of shows where nobody really gave any thought to the fact that we didn't have a bass player on stage with us. There were even a couple of bass guitarists in the audience at most of the shows, and they couldn't believe how decent it sounded. So we had our fix for when our bass player was out of town. And thus, the seed for me using the setup for my own music and performing was planted, fertilized and starting to sprout. It didn't sit well with Revelator's self-proclaimed "leader", and I believe that was one of the things that actually ended that project shortly thereafter...because, after all, he was allowed to collaborate and have several vanity projects going on at any given time, but Heaven forbid the rest of us do the same. Digressing...

To make it work and still sound like a full band, you have to abandon complex basslines and counter-melodies on guitar for the most part, and forget about any outrageous flashy guitar heroics, because you have to keep everything together since both guitar and bass are coming out of one instrument, but if you write songs or pick and choose covers that have no guitar solos or that something can be done in place of the guitar solo, or in those instances where, for example, I can pedal an open E or A string and play a solo on the other strings, and it works. Surprisingly well, actually. In my early days with Idle Minds in the early-to-mid '90s, our longest-serving bass player could play a root note and a couple of accents here and there but did not really know the fundamentals of bass guitar, and kept it largely very, very basic. Hell, even other working bands I gig with in most cases the bassist is not the most technically proficient bass player out there either. So again, expectations are low in that regard from both audiences and even with other musicians. With one or two exceptions, I've spent a lifetime trying to compensate for bass players who were just playing it safe and simple, so how was this any different? I would just dumb down the bass parts and simplify some of the guitar playing, or change some chord shapes or whatever, and basically, I just became literally almost every milquetoast bass and rhythm guitar player around here, but still better in some cases, and on one instrument to boot---so this never has, nor will it ever, just sound like "a guitar and drums but no bass". And doing a few little tricks here and there to show that I've got a little bit of a command of not just the instrument but also of the songs themselves definitely makes me stand out a little bit without looking like I'm trying to show off too much. Sometimes just being solid, consistent and relentless is the best way to "show off" anyway. But "what's the point?", you might be asking. 

I recently did a less-than-gratifying covers gig with my duo in a bar I play with another group (believe it or not, we've managed to come up with 4 hours of covers that sound pretty amazing as a two-piece), and I think a lot of why it didn't go as great as it could've was a mix of the regular-ol'-dive-bar-bullshit mentality and some folks confused by the format. I think we got some weird looks because there was just two of us and people were expecting something maybe lower-key, "chill" and did NOT expect us to sound like a full band ; that was literally one of the "complaints" from the bar manager: "loud as a full band"---I mean, thank you and all, but that's a problem WHY??? Did they WANT only the sparse, incomplete lo-fi sound of just a guitar, drums and vocals? I think that fucked with people, but I'm still not sure "why". I went into the gig thinking the average bar crowd wouldn't care about such things---after all, we were doing a handful of songs I've played in that very same bar with another group that always go over great, AND this is the same kind of audience who doesn't understand the ingredients to a band, or why asking a power-trio to play Chicago or Lynyrd Skynyrd songs (requiring keyboards, horns, multiple guitars, etc.) is kind of silly and inappropriate. So surely they'd appreciate two guys pulling off some familiar covers and sounding as good as (or better than) they typical shitty Friday night cover-band they're used to seeing. But for whatever reason, I believe this particular crowd had some preconceived notion that we would sound different, quieter or something. Okay, the night sucked, to be perfectly frank, from a double-booking debacle we encountered while setting up to the very last note. Even when we did some absolutely killer versions of some songs (especially in the second set, where we put our "A"-list stuff and after the mix was dialed-in), aside from a pocket of folks over at one table and a few dudes across the bar at another table, people were unresponsive. Uncomfortable silence. This was also the same venue that hosted acoustic duos and even a corny-as-FUCK duo featuring a literal karaoke singer, a dude with a guitar and a goddamned LAPTOP playing---no shit---PURCHASED BACKING TRACKS (not even backing tracks they recorded themselves). Yes, this venue let some act with a laptop that you would be mortified to host in your fucking living room for a New Year's party play there---and they were regular performers there---yet you put a competent guitarist/vocalist and drummer in there doing organic, fully-LIVE music and people act like we were violating some kind of sacred taboo. We even tried to keep the overall volume down in the first set (even had to be asked to turn the PA up a little, instead of down), but there was seemingly no way of pleasing this crowd.

We sounded every bit as good as a trio I also play with (and in a lot of cases, BETTER), and again, at least we're not in there doing some douchey double-acoustic-guitar "unplugged" performance or prancing around like a couple of poseurs to prerecorded backing tracks, so I think it came down to simply the audience's perception about what they were seeing and them believing it should've sounded less-full or somehow "not quite a much like a full band". I feel like this is strange, because audiences never seem to notice when a trio is doing music that usually features a second guitar, or keyboards, etc. They never seem to notice when you play a clean electric guitar where it should be an acoustic guitar. They often don't even notice glaring mistakes on an instrument or vocal (or forgotten lyric). Half the time people can't even distinguish the difference between "bass" or "lead" guitar. But I believe they let these things get a pass because they see what they think is a "full band" (i.e. "three or more people"), and it has nothing to do with the sound entering their ears at all (which is wild, particularly with "laptop as band member" thing). Their eyes had already made their minds up for them. 

Don't do that.

It's a crime to shortchange an honest live performance because it's not a format you're used to. Truth be told, if a musician is using a synth, or a bunch of pedals, it could be a one-person act---I'd even go so far as to say one of those semi-douchey looper pedal situations where the musician builds the song as they go, because at least they're creating all the sounds themselves---and that should suffice just fine for a Friday or Saturday night performance. Especially when it's a well-rehearsed performance with a good selection of songs. At least it's not a "DJ", right? And lookit, I'll even give a DJ a pass if they're truly making their own music (i.e. The Prodigy, Daft Punk) and put in the work themselves, and aren't just inserting pre-canned samples and noises into prepackaged loops/beats.

Listen with your ears, NOT with your eyes. Unless there's a goddamned laptop or iPad doing 90% of the performance. Then you can be utterly insulted that someone would think they're "entertaining" you by pressing "play" on their keyboard. But a couple guys making good, honest rock-n-roll racket? Give 'em a chance. They're as good as (or better than) any of the other milquetoast bands you go see at your local dive, so be cool.

Vinnie Vincent and the Two Million Dollar Album Nobody Wants...

 

Let me preface by saying I am an old-school KISS fan, because when I was a toddler in the late-70's, they were all over the place, and I still look back on some of their "big dumb rock songs" with adoration. As a guitarist, I learned many of my tricks and licks listening to those first several KISS records. I don't really care much for the post-70's stuff, but to each his own. To me, KISS was literally the same exact style of music as the Lynyrd Skynyrd crap my peers listened to, but more fun: riffs, rock shuffles, R&B-inspired basslines and silly lyrics. But KISS was a more entertaining band, and ultimately, had more songs that were worth a re-listen. I don't like the "Korporation" that the band became, but I am great at compartmentalization, so I can pretend the '73 to '82 KISS was a separate entity. That being said...

Sometimes you just feel embarrassed FOR someone. Case in point...

Ever since Ace Frehley (d.2025) started going on weird political rants during his band's live shows several years back, and capped-off last year with strange political theatrics by the remaining 3 original members of KISS for a photo-op and a grasp at relevance in the news, I had all but forgotten about the band's members during that bizarre period in the 80's when they shed their shock-rock image and went full glam/hair, forever alienating many fans of the group's campy, big, dumb rock-n-roll songwriting and stage theatrics. 

Eric Carr passed away over 30 years ago, Bruce Kulick has been out of active duty since they replaced him with former guitar-tech-turned-Ace-impersonator Tommy Thayer, and Eric Singer was the only consistent non-original member after the 90's-early-2000's reunion of the original four members ended. My guess is that with Paul and Gene being the "owners" of the trademark/corporation/whatever, the "sidemen" were not to draw too much attention to themselves. They were not much more than session players, hired to dress up, perform, collect their pittance and leave the press stuff to the boss(es). And then there's "Vinnie Vincent" (Vincent Cusano).

He joined the band on their last tour or so with a new makeup design ("the wizard" or "ankh warrior", depending on who you ask--either way, easily the least-imaginative design), and worked hard to be noticed as the little five-and-a-half-foot, nimble-fingered guitarist weaving in between Paul and Gene with his pointy guitar, playing in a completely different style (often OVERplaying) than the straightforward, sometimes-repetitive blues pentatonics Ace was known for. He was also around for that first tour after the band shed the comic book hero looks and switched to some of the most contradictory amalgams of hypermasculinity and cartoonish androgyny the "hair" genre would ever see. He butted heads with Stanley and Simmons over an employee agreement, and left the band mid-tour, replaced temporarily by Mark St. John (who also was not stylistically a good fit, and had to leave the band after a purported hand/arthritis issue (which later was found out to maybe be "something else", mysteriously enough). Vincent would, weird as it sounds, be hired from time to time to assist with songwriting, but never played with the band again. While some of his writing for the band was decent, a lot of it was schlocky and just BAD, as evidenced also in his songs written for his band, the Vinnie Vincent Invasion.

Vinnie disappeared for many years, but then around 2018, he started popping up on KISS Kruises and KISS Konventions and whatnot, hinting at a "new album" coming out (if I'm not mistaken, he's held onto calling it "Guitarmageddon" since even back then), featuring the "best rock songs in decades". He was the only KISS member who wouldn't get up and play onstage during these appearances, leading most people to think Vinnie had lost his ability to play altogether. He'd do a couple of halfassed, phoned-in sit-ins that ended up being filmed, but to say they were less-than-impressive is an understatement. In fact, due to his hairstyle, his wardrobe choices, his immaculate makeup and his increased tendency to behave more effeminately, there are still rumors going around that Vincent was also possibly about to come out as trans...and as you can imagine, the KISS fanbase was also split on that. Somehow, the guys who just couldn't put two-and-two together about Stanley's onstage prancing, primping, prissing and pouting also had strong feelings against this new Vinnie, who frankly, could pass for someone's Italian grandma at this point in every way. The rumors have never been confirmed or debunked, but that's not the most controversial thing. No, the problem now is this album, in both terms of its quality (or lack thereof), and this newest development.

Now's where I recommend that you read the article below, but DON'T listen to the song(s) just yet.

https://www.guitarworld.com/artists/music-releases/vinnie-vincent-guitarmageddon-two-million-dollars

Crazy, huh? TWO MILLION DOLLARS for an album that no record company wants (even SplitScreen Entertainment, who released a VVI "tribute" album 15 years or so ago, wouldn't touch it). I don't know what's more insane, the overall purchase price for the album, the purchase price per song, or the batshit loony "terms and conditions" the buyer would have to agree to. This shit is legit cuckoo as hell. What a way to ensure your new music is never heard again. No one is that big a fan of Vinnie to even ponder paying that kind of dough for an album of his, EVEN IF it didn't come with all the cringey stipulations.

I don't know if Vinnie owes some people a lot of money, has really got a bad problem with substances, is finally going through with some procedures, or is simply delusional, greedy and that pompous, but what a perplexing thing to do.

Okay, so you're probably thinking, cheesy title(s) aside, "no way is it REALLY that bad", or "you're being way too harsh", and to that I say: "Go for it."

Seriously. Go listen to "Ride the Serpent" [shudders]. See if you can make it past the first verse...if you can even tell where it begins or ends. I'm sorry it came to this, but you HAD to hear just how atrocious it was with your own ears.

That song alone sounds like there are literally four different songs just dumped into the same track. And this is supposed to be the "album" version. Ugh. REALLY? You can find many of the tracks in their 80's/90's "demo" versions on Youtube, and frankly, they're all horrible. I mean, what do you expect out of a song called "Heavy Metal Poontang" or "Cockteazer", really, but even if the "final" versions are mixed like "...Serpent", they will still be unlistenable. Because the "album mix" still sounds like it was recorded in an empty inground pool under a metal roof.

I hope Vinnie gets the help he obviously needs, and I will make a solemn vow here that when I win the Powerball/Mega-Millions lottery, I will use some of my winnings to purchase this work (I will offer much less, but I guarantee you he will take it), and I will see that it is thoroughly destroyed by sending it on a rocket straight into the sun. That will be my gift to mankind.

Removing Dead Weight Pt1 : The Contingency Approach

So in my last blog, we covered some really, really unprofessional situations you might run into with your band, or a member thereof, wherein you may be faced with having to have (for example), your frontperson bow out for the latter half of a show, or an entire show altogether. Now is where we talk in detail about a contingency plan to keep you from looking stupid in an uncomfortable situation. 

Yeah. It's a really important thing to consider, and something we don't all think about until it's too late and we're wishing we had a backup plan. Granted, if your drummer breaks his leg or your bass player has to get stitches on his fretting hand, those are pretty much situations where it's simply time to cancel the gig, unless you happen to have an incredibly talented multi-instrumentalist in the band who can bounce around to whatever instrument is needed and do the job, and I'm not sure about you guys, but most folks I know only play one or two instruments, and a lot of vocalists can barely play one if any at all, and those of us who DO play several instruments can only play one at a time, so we know that's not going to happen. What, then?

But let's say, for instance, in either a legitimate case of unintentional impairment, such as a sinus infection or the flu, or even if it's due to negligent misadventure  (drinking one's self into uselessness, for example, as mentioned in the previous blog), your band's vocalist either cannot perform at full range, or by halfway through the night is giving out and will be unable to finish the set. You might have a great relationship with a venue and they might let you call it an early night if it's not super busy. But odds are, they're not going to want to pay you your full rate for 1/3 or 1/2 of what you were supposed to play. So you need a back-up plan if you want to get paid and not be remembered negatively (or blacklisted). In most bands, there's at least one other member who is an accomplished vocalist themselves. Sometimes, the person might actually be as capable as, or in some cases more capable than, the person who inexplicably gets to spend the majority of that time up front. That person might need to finish out the night in cases where the primary vocalist is incapacitated. Now, I realize this takes a little bit of the glory and spotlight off of Mister or Miss Frontperson, but if it keeps your band from looking foolish, and helps you fulfill the obligation you signed up for when you accepted the gig, then put your ego aside and look at the big picture. Then take a seat with a smile on your face and be proud to be part of a capable, skilled outfit who can carry on with a member down.

What this means is that your band really needs to have what I like to refer to as a "contingency set". 

This is where you have a dedicated set, 45 minutes to an hour in length at the very least, where somebody else can step up and take over. Whether the frontperson wants to take a seat in the audience, hang back and just play guitar or fucking tambourine or something, or just leave altogether, that's up to them, and either choice is acceptable. But if somebody else can finish out the night and save the band from having to endure the embarrassment of either having to shut down early or suffer from increasingly worsening performance due to some kind of legitimate ailment or negligent self-induced impairment from overindulgence, then it's totally worth the extra effort to come up with a working alternative that will help the band save face and look like champs. And as previously stated, there's probably already a good candidate in your band who can do it. Actually, most likely, in a pinch that person could easily perform 75 to 90% of the material at the drop of a hat already if needed (based on my own experience), in addition to his/her guitar/bass/drum duties. There might come a time to put their talent and abilities to use, and not only should they be ready, but the rest of the band needs to be supportive and appreciative of it.

That's something I personally dedicated myself to doing long ago. Pretty much any act worth a damn that I have played with in the last 20 years has had the flexibility of having some sort of backup plan. In the bands that concentrated on original material, there was almost always some degree of splitting fronting the band with at least one other member. And in what I consider the more fun and successful stints in cover-bands, there also has been a division of lead vocal duties between two or more band members, which is a great way to increase stamina for the entire band, particularly if (as I do) you really push the limits of your power and range when you sing. They're not "your songs" anyway, so why not split up the duties if more than one person can help make the most of the performance?  I make it my goal to not only do my job well, but also to be ready to step up to the mic on those occasions the vocalist falls ill, decides to get so plastered by mid-set that he can't talk straight (much less sing or read his lyrics off his cheat-sheets) or when he throws his voice out with karaoke and bar-hopping throughout the week. 

At any given time, without whining about "needing to rehearse" and "how hard" everything is, with absolutely no notice whatsoever, I can fill not one or two sets, but even an entire show if I have to, if my bandmates can improvise and follow lead. That's one reason I cannot stand lazy goddamned musicians. And as I have mentioned before (and will likely again), I do admit that I have a certain beef with people who call themselves vocalists a lot of the time, because frankly, I don't feel like the vast majority of them deserve the right to stand up there with just a microphone while everyone else is working their asses off (especially those of us handling both instrumental AND vocal duties all night). Even when it comes to famous bands, I can't think of more than maybe 20 that feature vocalists who I really believe have earned the right not to have to play guitar or piano or bass or something while they sing. And I can count on one hand how many independent or local/regional acts I've ever seen in my entire life who have vocalists even remotely in that same classification. I certainly haven't ever worked with any. And the rest if them out there? If they're not contributing on an instrument, I don't really take them all that seriously. I can't. I won't. And that includes people I have worked with. They're nothing more than karaoke hacks who decided they wanted to feel like the cool kids by being in a band. But I'm not shy about it, and I have no problem saying such things directly to them (ask anyone I have worked with). Why? Because I have busted my ass over the years not only to be a decent guitar player, but also to be able to provide vocals so I don't have to work with somebody who I feel is a halfass, and when somebody doesn't put the same amount of effort into what they do as I put into my parts, it's absolutely insulting. Those guys inevitably will end up butting heads with me, because it's pretty much a given that if I ever have to implement the contingency, it becomes at the very least a challenge of rank at that point for them, and I've found most people cannot handle that threat of being usurped. But ultimately, if I have to implement the contingency for self-inflicted reasons (i.e. you're too drunk to do the job, or I just get sick of hearing complaints about "how hard" the job is), I can pretty much guarantee you that your days are numbered, because from that moment forward I'm going to do everything I can to prove how unnecessary you are the first time I ever have to pick up your slack. I never was in a band I didn't front/co-front till about 6 or 7 years ago, and I don't NEED to be now.

But I digress...back to your "contingency plan/set".

Be prepared, because the second you even mention a contingency set plan, your vocalist will lose his/her fucking mind, and will probably act one of two ways. The first is denial, coupled with a little bit of gaslighting, probably blaming his or her shortcomings somehow on the rest of the band, lack of band rehearsals, or some other nonsensical horseshit to try to talk you out of it and try to deem it "unnecessary". That's when you stand your ground, and put it to a vote. Hopefully your other bandmates are sensible folks, or they at least understand which member(s) they could do without and not have to cancel shows should an ultimatum be issued (and this is a possibility)--but if the other members push back, I'd recommend you go ahead and start looking for a better group to be a part of. The other reaction is likely to be a sudden massive surge in motivation and drive from the person who feels now that the cushy position on which they staked their claim and of which they think so highly of themselves performing is now potentially threatened. They may even do something like hire a vocal coach, or even [GASP!!!] start actually practicing on their own so that they are ready for rehearsals and shows. That's great and all (if not a case of "too little, too late"), but either way, no matter how they react, don't back down. Insist on a contingency plan, for the betterment and security of the band, and proceed accordingly. If they feel at all threatened, they will either leave the band or they will do their part with minimal hassle and maybe even demonstrate gradual, noticeable improvement going forward. Either way is a win for everyone else. You need to be prepared for at LEAST a little bit of general unease and discomfort. Your vocalist is not going to be a happy camper to begin with, but if the contingency vocalist knocks it out of the park, it's going to make things even more tense and add another layer of complexity and potential drama, so prepare for that as well. Expect a lot of tension if the audience applauds the performance enthusiastically the first time you have to implement the contingency live. And God forbid your exalted vocalist should overhear an audience member or friend ask the contingency vocalist why he or she doesn't sing more, or if someone suggests that they do. Most importantly, if the contingency vocalist does perform at least on par with your current vocalist, you and your bandmates need to ask yourselves if you have one too many members draining your mojo and your earnings. This is one thing the typical frontperson fears most. Despite his or her high opinion about his or her talent, and despite the façade of confidence that usually accompanies folks who vie for the position, a vocalist's ego is among the most fragile (often more so than even drummers and guitarists, and that's saying something), and they do not like to compete once they believe they have established the pecking order in their minds. They often become extremely cutthroat (even more than they usually are) if there is even a slight possibility they will be upstaged or replaced, and especially by someone they foolishly consider a mere "side person". Should you see this kind of behavior, I think you know what to do.

But enough of that. Now it's time to build your "backup set".

When you put together this set of material, I would also strongly recommend that you completely exclude the musician for whom the contingency will be the spare tire. By all means, be honest and make sure your vocalist knows you will be putting together a set of songs specifically for usage without him or her. But they don't need to show up to those rehearsals. Their presence is not necessary, nor is their critique and/or approval. You need to rehearse just like you would have to perform the songs live, as if "this is the band". Do it like you mean it, because you SHOULD mean it. Another recommendation is to include as many songs already in your set as possible in addition to your supplemental set of new, "contingency vocalist" material. That will give you an idea of just how much material you would be able to do total should you have a very important event or gig that you did not want to cancel but otherwise wouldn't be able to do. Because you might find yourself having to cover for more than one set, so be prepared to do an entire show without the individual. This is especially important, depending on how he or she feels about the band putting together the contingency set, and be prepared that he or she might actually walk out to avoid eventual dismissal, in which case the contingency plan now IS the band. Rest assured, the vocalist will be definitely in touch with at least one member asking how things went, and wanting to know all the sordid details, but it's best to keep things vague and simple and change the subject. If he or she really is that curious, tell them to sit out a set at the next show and see firsthand that you'll be just fine if they fall ill or can't control their vices. Or tell them not to worry about it, because if he or she is doing the job, you will never have to implement the backup plan except in the event of an excusable emergency.

People sometimes need to be reminded in this situation that unless you are an original artist with a following, you are in no way, shape or form entitled any more than anyone else, nor are you any more important or irreplaceable than any other member of your band. And particularly with bands playing all covers, you don't own those songs. That's not your art. You are a mimic. There are no stars in that scene. It is essentially live band karaoke, and you're just another schmuck onstage going through the motions. Having an insufferable ego in a band that doesn't even write their own damn material is absolutely laughable at best. And therefore, don't be a stolen valor diva. Don't take yourself too seriously. Lose the "me" mentality. Do what's best for the band, and what makes you all sound as professional as you can possibly be (at least as "professional" as a dive bar cover-band CAN be, anyhow). And if that means you need to step your ass aside for a few songs, do it. If that means you have to step aside or half a night or more, so be it. It could mean the difference between getting another booking at a club or not, and it could generate either positive or negative word of mouth which might affect the band's opportunities down the road. The band doesn't need to be made to look like idiots because of your personal mismanagement or irresponsibility. So keep in mind that if you insist on being a liability, you are dead to rights when you fuck up bad enough to force the hand and have someone else cover for you. Again, nobody's going to hold it against you if you have some actual health issue, but if the band can still do a show, or finish a show, let it happen and don't be a dick about it. Politely excuse yourself and either relax while enjoying the rest of the show, or leave and go continue to drown your sorrows while you worry about whether or not your services will be required in the future with that project. Just like you replaced the guitarist who you didn't think was doing the band justice and the drummer who can't play, it would be just as easy to replace the singer who renders him-/herself useless by the second set, or who complains about the job incessantly.

Bonus point of consideration: One thing you see a lot of is a strange sense of allegiance when issues like this come up. There are people who will procrastinate, or even choose not to make decisions for the better of the whole band based solely on their personal friendship with one or more members. While I prefer to play with people I actually like, I have only been lucky enough once or twice to actually be in a band where I genuinely like all the members. Some people believe that you should put your friendship before the music, or the product, or whatever you want to call it. I'm going to have to disagree there, particularly if you're only having trouble getting along with one person in particular, which is usually the case. Now, when you have invested time and heart into a project, your feelings are going to be hurt if you are made obsolete and your bandmates choose to dismiss you from the project, but a FRIEND (and just decent human beings in general) will understand and listen, and won't go ballistic or seek revenge like some angry preteen with hormonal issues. And I'm not saying anybody should be asked to leave a group or kicked out or whatever without some kind of discussion prior, and an opportunity should always be offered to give somebody a chance to improve, whenever possible. Again, when possible. It's not always possible, though. Sometimes there just isn't enough time for somebody to get their shit together. And sometimes people just selectively "don't hear " what you tell them. I have had this happen to me multiple times, where somebody just doesn't seem to pay attention when you tell them things that need work, and then they go apeshit when several months down the road they haven't done with expected and they are sacked. The point of that is, just because you don't want to hear what somebody says, it doesn't mean they didn't say it, and if somebody approaches you with things that need to be fixed, whether in an official capacity or as an aside (as a "buddy"), you need to be paying attention. It's not just going to go away. And as I have learned the hard way, there are often certain personality types who talk a lot, but never have an actual interactive conversation because they don't listen to what they're told. Or they will come up with some silly excuse to blame anybody or anything but themselves. It is unfortunate, but sometimes feelings will just have to be hurt. I can think of maybe three times I have ended a band or asked somebody to leave that didn't wind up being a big melodrama or end up creating mortal enemies out of the other parties. Some worse than others, and as pathetic as it is, most of the "worst" I have had to deal with have been in the last several years, with middle-aged men, even more so than teenage band breakups in most cases. Yeah, I know. Sad. You can work with people you don't necessarily call friends, but when it becomes a drain on your mental health, don't prolong it and perpetuate the toxicity. Just take care of it. Don't waste YOUR time or allow someone ELSE to waste it. The point here is that sometimes you may have to base your contingency plan also on personality, and sometimes you have to be ready to replace someone who creates an unhealthy atmosphere. Because otherwise, the band may be stuck with that ultimatum to either get rid of the drinking buddy or lose an integral member (or two, or three) of your band.

To sum it all up, there are legitimate excuses for having off-nights. There are legitimate excuses for cancelling shows. There is no legitimate excuse for not having a contingency plan for those off-nights that can be salvaged. And there is no excuse to allow off-nights to increase either in frequency or in severity, or both. Upon reasonable examination, it's easy to spot the difference between genuine off-nights, and a shift to a toxic band culture. The former can be mitigated. The latter must be eliminated.

But what about a specific example? Check back next time and I'll give you one, and then some...