Horror Stories in Local Rock – Jason Irwin – An Xperience Column

Horror Stories in Local Rock – Jason Irwin – An Xperience Column – by Jason Irwin.

I played a solo acoustic show recently at a local restaurant. I do that a lot. Anyway, it was all going well … until a man came up to me and dropped his leftover food plate on my tip jug. Somehow, in a state of much confusion, I finished the song. I then (I’ll admit, somewhat dramatically) brought his garbage back over to him, plopped it on his table, and offered a stern, but still polite “no thank you” – instead of a much different type of reaction (which would have been satisfying, but unprofessional). I went back to my performance – and I’m pretty proud of myself, actually. I surmised that he had probably consumed more alcohol than he should have. It happens. But, what the heck. Do I look that hungry? I had even played a request for him earlier. Restaurant patrons … for the record –don’t do this. I mean, the four and a half French fries, part of a hamburger bun, and a small piece of a pickle all looked super appetizing. But again … no thank you. I have a wealth of similar experiences that I could share from my own personal life. I’ve had my share of “Freeee Birdddddd!” I’ve been the horror story at times for others – for sure. But I know my own tales of terror all too well. And being so close to Halloween, I decided instead to summon up some scares from my peers in the local music business. I asked for anything … crazy stalker fans, hecklers from hell, horrible load-ins, nightmare venues, studio gremlins, equipment possessions, onstage disasters, deranged drummers, scary stages … and the responses were fantastic. These were just a few …

Dave Tyo – Producer/engineer/songwriter (Saratoga Springs)
One time, this random lady got my personal cell number and left me a voicemail. “Hi, yes … this is for David, the leader of the Bipolar band. I just thought you should know your band name is offensive and disrespectful … Bipolar is a disease …” Like, yeah, we’re aware … We didn’t name ourselves after a disease. Bipolar means more than that. I remember where we were – and the conversation we had that led to choosing that name. John was a big metal guy, Peter loved DMB, and I was more into pop rock. “Bipolar” acknowledged our dramatic and often opposing influences.

Marc Vincent – Lazy Suns (Hudson Falls)

One time, a sound man and I got in a near physical altercation at a college in NJ while on tour in the ‘90s. Apparently, he didn’t know that I set my own mic and stand up, so when I proceeded to smash it (after all, this was the grunge era), he leapt on stage with his dukes up like a 1930s boxing ring dancer, fists twirling high in the air – which made the crowd roar with laughter. I held him off with my Jazz Master in one hand and a broken mic stand in the other. That slipped from my hand and cut open my friend’s head, who was touring with us in his own band. His head started spurting blood all over the stage, and the crowd cheered us on, thinking it was all staged. The college health director shut the show down immediately, and we were all escorted off campus after my friend got stitched up in the college health office.|

Frank Palangi – Solo recording artist, filmmaker (Queensbury)
[A popular rock club] in Albany back in the day used to have a sheet for the bathroom door. The toilet basically was a witch’s caldron. Backstage, the ceiling was caving in and smelled like gremlin pee.

Art LaFleur – Grit N Whiskey (Saratoga Springs)
When I was in Byrds of Prey, we played the Utica Music Fest a couple of times. Basically, you go out and play an hour set at two or three different venues over the course of the night. The venues were all supposed to provide a PA and sound guy. The last time we played it, the first venue we showed up to was set up in a church parking lot under a tent. The only thing that was set up was a stereo. Like you know … a big boom box. We asked where the sound system for the band was, and they said, “You’re looking at it. Can’t you just plug in to that?” Needless to say, we were off to the next venue immediately.

Dan Webster – Soggy Derby Boys (Glens Falls)
How about that time I booked my bluegrass band to play a biker bar? We didn’t make it past the third song till they shut us down. We had played the place many times, but this particular night, the crowd had changed to a “macho” biker bunch. Loading in, the metal was pouring from the jukebox. We set up and launched into some Billy Strings songs. Half the bar got up and left. I’m playing and watching what’s happening, and the bar owner started pacing and looking pretty unhappy. Finally, he came up and shut us down. We did have friends in the bar who liked what we were doing. But I wasn’t in a position to argue the matter. Also … we didn’t get paid.

Jo Agopovich – The Va Va Voodoos (Albany)
Packing gear in my car, driving to the venue, unloading everything … then reversing the process while a freakin’ blizzard was happening! At least I had four-wheel drive.

Damien Saint – Drummer, producer (Halfmoon)
We were playing at Shepard Park, and I had just purchased a used Fender Twin. We were all set and literally about to start the first song when my brother asked me to move my amp about a foot (yes … 12 inches) to one side. The sound guy wasn’t happy, and I wasn’t either. I lifted it – and the handle broke. The amp came down on my feet, crushing one big toe and damaging my other foot. I waited until the most poignant moment of a very introspective song, and played a random note that went off like a gigantic musical whoopee cushion (little brother’s revenge). He has no recollection of this, but to this day, my big toe hurts in just about any shoe I wear.

Marky Balboa Klein – Blackcat Elliot (Albany)

We played in the middle of a field. It was over 100 degrees. A guy named “Snake” had to bring us up a hill (with equipment) on his quad for us to get to the stage, which was an old boat dock and uneven wooden pallets.

Jim Robinson – (former Glens Falls musician and Dirt Cheap member)
Early ‘80s, gig in Quebec, CA, just over the border. Our band (Cracked Actor) was a five-piece band, and we had a three-member road crew. Canadian customs held us up for about five hours, made us unload two full vans, and brought out bomb and drug sniffing dogs. This was because one of our crew members lied about his criminal record when asked, giving them “probable cause.” One of the officers opened up a guitar case wrong, spilled a Tele onto the pavement, and broke the pickup selector switch. They didn’t care or offer to pay to fix it. Worst gig horror story!

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