My Roadie Days Part 2: The Willys
So here we are roughly ten years later. There was a local band when I was in college made up of alumni called the Willys. They played popular hard rock cover songs like Neil Young, Steppenwolf, etc etc etc. They were a pretty wild bunch and did well in college venues…like when the frat guy who was doing jello shots for 56 minutes earlier is now ‘singing’ along with a song he’s obviously never heard of….2 inches in front of the lead singer….
So, I ran into the Willys a few years after college. They still rocked, but someone forgot to tell them that they got old…apparently all of a sudden. I struck up a conversation with the lead singer who remembers the gig I last saw them at and the guy “helping” him sing. We laugh, we joke, he asks the big question “So what have you been up to?” It’s a one sided question, because I know what he’s been up to, and its also a trap…because I’ve been up to nothing at all. So I go bold and lie: “I’ve been making doughnuts for the Pierce-Arrow Museum in Okalahoma. But they’re having an open house here so I came with them.” Not knowing my love for doughnuts, the bluff worked.
We made small talk as he was tearing down his amp setup. And then my question which starts the new saga “Hey, want some help with that?”
Sow I see places like “The Underside” “Boyds Bears” “The Ski Liberty Chalet” Mostly semi-swanky restaurants and bars, no dives or slaughter houses. Gone are the rednecks. Gone are the meatmarkets. All these places have their own employees with guys who take their covers. I walk right past the poor schlub collecting covers for the establishment with a “I’m with the band” thing. If I get hastled the next time the schlub sees me I have an amp or a drum or a
mic stand. The schlub then shuts up.
I sit in the back, or on the side. After the 1st set I say things like “sounds good.” “Too much bass, vocals are weak.” “Hihat on drums are tweaking.” Only these guys are trained sound engineers so they laugh at me. The bartender or people next to me ask, “Are you friends of the band?” I have to say “Yeah, I’m seeing the sax player, and the lead singer is my brother.” Because these places don’t have bands that need roadies. I try the quiche. What the hell is quiche? Where are the groupies? Where is formaldehyde girl?
These are the questions I ask at the Willys.
So, I ran into the Willys a few years after college. They still rocked, but someone forgot to tell them that they got old…apparently all of a sudden. I struck up a conversation with the lead singer who remembers the gig I last saw them at and the guy “helping” him sing. We laugh, we joke, he asks the big question “So what have you been up to?” It’s a one sided question, because I know what he’s been up to, and its also a trap…because I’ve been up to nothing at all. So I go bold and lie: “I’ve been making doughnuts for the Pierce-Arrow Museum in Okalahoma. But they’re having an open house here so I came with them.” Not knowing my love for doughnuts, the bluff worked.
We made small talk as he was tearing down his amp setup. And then my question which starts the new saga “Hey, want some help with that?”
Sow I see places like “The Underside” “Boyds Bears” “The Ski Liberty Chalet” Mostly semi-swanky restaurants and bars, no dives or slaughter houses. Gone are the rednecks. Gone are the meatmarkets. All these places have their own employees with guys who take their covers. I walk right past the poor schlub collecting covers for the establishment with a “I’m with the band” thing. If I get hastled the next time the schlub sees me I have an amp or a drum or a
mic stand. The schlub then shuts up.
I sit in the back, or on the side. After the 1st set I say things like “sounds good.” “Too much bass, vocals are weak.” “Hihat on drums are tweaking.” Only these guys are trained sound engineers so they laugh at me. The bartender or people next to me ask, “Are you friends of the band?” I have to say “Yeah, I’m seeing the sax player, and the lead singer is my brother.” Because these places don’t have bands that need roadies. I try the quiche. What the hell is quiche? Where are the groupies? Where is formaldehyde girl?
These are the questions I ask at the Willys.
posted by Mike at 6:17 PM
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