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.