I would hardly refer to these two stories as “on tour” stories but they are definitely “road” stories. They both occurred when I used to play bass for a living, back in the seventies, and together they have a rather oxymoronic moral ... keep your eyes open when you play or always keep them closed.
The first event occurred in Tallahassee, Florida, at a little place called Four Points Lounge. I am often in the habit closing my eyes when I play, especially when I am quite familiar with the neck of the particular bass I am playing. I don't do it always, but if I especially like the song, I may. And if I am trying to hear what is going on on the other side of the drummer, I will often be that way at stage-front. This particular evening at Four Points Lounge I was stage-front with my eyes closed when I suddenly realized I was the only one playing. In my periphery vision I noticed a flagging motion. Turning to view the exit door closest to the stage, I saw my band-mates anxiously beckoning me to leave the stage in their direction. Next I turned my attention to the dance floor. There, a rather slight man was standing with his back to me about six feet from the stage. Another six or seven feet on the other side of him an intimidating-looking gentleman was pointing a rather large handgun in both of our directions. Now I didn't know a lot about ballistics back then but had a solidly strong sense that standing in the trajectory path was not wise. Because I spend a lot of money on my instruments and for other reasons, I have always taken very good care to protect them from harm. But for the first time in my playing career, and without hesitation, I actually threw my bass on the stage floor to beat a hasty retreat to the safety of the exit door and the company of my com padres. Fortunately, the police arrived soon and no one was hurt, but I did play with my eyes wide open for a long time after that.
The second eyes-closed experience occurred in Nashville, Tennessee, at a club called Fanny's. Our group, Sweetheart, was very popular there and we always packed the joint. A certain limousine driver who was an ardent Sweetheart fan was always bringing visiting music industry stars there to hear us. One night he brought Aerosmith, which resulted in Steven Tyler taking us to the studio, but that is another story. On this particular evening I was again stage-front with my eyes closed. When I opened them, no more that three or four feet away, staring directly at me, was none other than Frank Zappa. Now I had seen pictures of the man and was a big fan since the “Weasels Ripped My Flesh” album, but I suddenly realized that Mr. Zappa had about the biggest head I had ever seen. Maybe it was just the tunnel vision I had developed from the shock of seeing him so closely staring directly at me, but his head was huge. If he had been considering me as a musician he might use, I failed the audition, because at that moment I forgot everything. I forgot my part. I forgot the song. I forgot that I played bass. But not all from that night was bad. Our guitarist, Adrian Belew, was later hired by Mr. Zappa, which really jump-started Adrian's career. I am so happy for Adrian that this occurred but I have often wondered if I should have just kept my eyes closed that night.
I hope you enjoyed these anecdotal recollections. My name is Steve Flacy. I today work as a director of information technology for a large precast concrete company and play bass for fun. You may view my Bandmix profile by clicking below or my current band's website at www.ninetyninecents.net. Rock out.
The first event occurred in Tallahassee, Florida, at a little place called Four Points Lounge. I am often in the habit closing my eyes when I play, especially when I am quite familiar with the neck of the particular bass I am playing. I don't do it always, but if I especially like the song, I may. And if I am trying to hear what is going on on the other side of the drummer, I will often be that way at stage-front. This particular evening at Four Points Lounge I was stage-front with my eyes closed when I suddenly realized I was the only one playing. In my periphery vision I noticed a flagging motion. Turning to view the exit door closest to the stage, I saw my band-mates anxiously beckoning me to leave the stage in their direction. Next I turned my attention to the dance floor. There, a rather slight man was standing with his back to me about six feet from the stage. Another six or seven feet on the other side of him an intimidating-looking gentleman was pointing a rather large handgun in both of our directions. Now I didn't know a lot about ballistics back then but had a solidly strong sense that standing in the trajectory path was not wise. Because I spend a lot of money on my instruments and for other reasons, I have always taken very good care to protect them from harm. But for the first time in my playing career, and without hesitation, I actually threw my bass on the stage floor to beat a hasty retreat to the safety of the exit door and the company of my com padres. Fortunately, the police arrived soon and no one was hurt, but I did play with my eyes wide open for a long time after that.
The second eyes-closed experience occurred in Nashville, Tennessee, at a club called Fanny's. Our group, Sweetheart, was very popular there and we always packed the joint. A certain limousine driver who was an ardent Sweetheart fan was always bringing visiting music industry stars there to hear us. One night he brought Aerosmith, which resulted in Steven Tyler taking us to the studio, but that is another story. On this particular evening I was again stage-front with my eyes closed. When I opened them, no more that three or four feet away, staring directly at me, was none other than Frank Zappa. Now I had seen pictures of the man and was a big fan since the “Weasels Ripped My Flesh” album, but I suddenly realized that Mr. Zappa had about the biggest head I had ever seen. Maybe it was just the tunnel vision I had developed from the shock of seeing him so closely staring directly at me, but his head was huge. If he had been considering me as a musician he might use, I failed the audition, because at that moment I forgot everything. I forgot my part. I forgot the song. I forgot that I played bass. But not all from that night was bad. Our guitarist, Adrian Belew, was later hired by Mr. Zappa, which really jump-started Adrian's career. I am so happy for Adrian that this occurred but I have often wondered if I should have just kept my eyes closed that night.
I hope you enjoyed these anecdotal recollections. My name is Steve Flacy. I today work as a director of information technology for a large precast concrete company and play bass for fun. You may view my Bandmix profile by clicking below or my current band's website at www.ninetyninecents.net. Rock out.
Last edited by Flacy on Sat Mar 29, 2008 12:38 pm, edited 2 times in total.