The Bad Guy

It’s A Horrible Gig

the city: San Francisco, CA

the location: a small rock club

the year: early 2003

My band is on stage and we are playing our hearts out. Dave is ruling the guitar world, I’m doing my best Sammy Davis Danzig, jr. song stylings, and the drum machine is sending out crushing machine gun beats and synth bass.

The audience is not enthused. In fact, the audience is not even there. Three patrons are upstairs and trying REAL hard to not notice us. We finish a song and the silence is almost humiliating. Not even crickets chirped for us. But we go on. We play 13 more songs about self-loathing, addiction, cats, misanthropy, nuns, more self-loathing and Hugo Boss and the audience still does not care.

We end the set and I say goodbye.

“Good night! You’ve been a shitty audience! Go fuck yourselves.”

Dave and I pack away all the gear and head outside for a smoke. Both of us are in suits and sweating buckets. Neither he or I are in a good mood. and we take a walk around the block cursing the stores on the street and the whole town we live in.

“Fuck this city!”

“Fuck you, shitty rock club!”

“Fuck you, shitty burrito place!”

“Fuck you, hardware store! And fuck you, used book store.”

“Fuck you, parking meter!”

“And fuck you, traffic light! And a big fuck you to you, manhole!”

“And fuck you, sewer that runs under the street!”

“Oh, and fuck that guy delivering the pizza’s in his Honda.”

“Yeah, fuck that guy!”

Dave and I continue our bird flipping, profanity spewing, walking tour of the area. We end the walk where we began, in front of that shitty club. As we entered, we noticed something different. In 15 minutes the club went from 3 patrons to at least 80 (it was a small venue). We sat down in the back and seethed for a few minutes, enduring the next band. Not that they were bad, I was too busy wondering where all the people had come from.

I looked at Dave and we both went back outside for another smoke.

“What the Fuck?!”

“Where the hell did they come from?!”

“Have you even heard of these guys?”

“Hell, no.”

“What the fuck?”

“God, I hate this town.”

[Note: Both Dave and myself are usually a lot more eloquent, but one sometimes finds catharsis through excessive profanity. This situation being one of those occasions]

So we take another walk. A longer one. We arrived just as that second band was leaving the stage and the crowd had disappeared. And the only ones left were…Actually, we were the only ones there besides the door man and the bartender. The next band set up and played for all 4 of us and we felt slightly better.

Then the door man showed up.

“OK, 3-way split on the door, you guys get $200.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, that second band really packed them in. There’s your share.”

I was curious so I asked the guy “What was up with them?”

“They’re friends with some guy in Green Day.”

“So some guy in Green Day brought all his friends down here and then split?”


“Huh, I guess we owe Green Day a thank you.”

So, there you go, Green Day. It’s a long time in coming, but thanks for turning a shitty, soul-crushing gig into one that at least paid us a little money. You guys are A-OK in our book.”


February 21, 2007 - Posted by | bad shows, rock, san francisco

1 Comment »

  1. Sounds like that time you guys played down here, but without the shitty Silverlake lesbians 🙂

    Comment by Myrtle | February 22, 2007 | Reply

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