...The ongoing drama/trauma of Orbert's almost-band continues...
After our second non-debut a few weeks ago, our fearless leader John emailed a list of seven (seven!) potential gigs he'd drummed up. Ranging from 10 miles away to nearly 30, mostly playing for the door, but hell, at this point we'll take anything we can get. We have to get out there, get some experience playing, get some pictures, audio, and video, and hopefully make a connection or two.
JT was the first to reply. He's out of town for three of the seven dates. As you may recall, JT (drummer) was the one who got a kidney stone the day of our second attempt at a debut. Obviously that could not be helped, but still, that's the first thing that came to my mind.
So this past Saturday, the 26th, was our next practice. Full run-through of both sets, in preparation for the one gig of the seven which actually panned out (some were just too far away for shit pay, some had other date conflicts). Also, John's wife Kay has a nice camera and a bit of photography experience, so she's gonna take some posed group pictures after practice, just so we have something for the web site and Facebook page. John send out an email with all these details, and also some guidelines on what clothes to bring, etc.
I go clothes shopping and bring my wife along since I have no idea what looks "cool". I'm 50something years old, an aging rocker, who must somehow get up on stage and look like a rocker without looking ridiculous. We find some nice shirts that she assures me will look very cool with black jeans and my extremely Asian appearance.
Friday night at 10 fucking PM, JT sends an email, and just to make sure we all get it, a group text telling everyone to check their email. He got his dates mixed up and is flying out Saturday morning, not Sunday. Oops.
That's it. No apologies -- although I'm not sure what's left after his literally four or five apologies for the kidney stone, which he couldn't help -- and no actual statement that he won't be able to make the practice, although that was obviously implied. Just that he got the dates mixed up and he will be flying out in the morning.
Anne (singer) had gotten her hair and nails done, because of the pictures. Kay (John's hot wife) had rearranged her work schedule to be available that day to take pictures. She's a realtor and Saturday is normally a very busy day for her. We have all been practicing. The night before, all JT can say is "Oops".
JT got his dates mixed up. JT got a kidney stone. JT had already missed the last two practices and now this one, which has not just inconvenienced others but also cost them money. JT recently dropped some of his other commitments so he'd have more time for the band, but was the first to get three of seven potential gigs crossed off the list because he's out of town. JT is in the proverbial doghouse.
John is beyond disappointed, and beyond pissed. I had a long phone conversation with him, and he's going to talk to JT about the band and his level of commitment to it. I am, as always, thankful that that's his job and not mine. I love to play, I want to play, but this is still just a hobby for me. If it falls apart, I'll be bummed, but not heartbroken. For John, this is his dream. He's put a lot of money, time, and effort into this band, getting it going, keeping it somehow going despite all the shit that's come our way, from within and without, and he's not a quitter. He's finding us gigs, just working independently as our manager, without an agent, with no experience at it, just through effort and perservenence. I genuinely feel sorry for the guy.
After our phone call making sure a few things were in order and that I was available on certain dates, John sent out an email with two practice dates. We have to do weeknights because we're out of weekends (the gig is Oct 10 and we can't practice Oct 3), the practices will be Oct 6 and Oct 8, please let him know as soon as possible if there are conflicts. He did not say that the practices are "required" or "mandatory" because that was implied.
Next week we have two weeknight practices, and a gig on Saturday. Third time's the charm?