Gah...it's the concert from hell!

The BBQ Pit
1

I’ve been looking forward to this concert all season. Not just because it’s the last one of the season–although that’s a factor in its favor. No, I’ve been looking forward to it because since the beginning of the season, I’ve been sure it was going to be a great concert. And you know what? I’ll be so fucking glad when it’s over tonight.

Now, it’s not as though the things that have gone wrong are anyone’s fault. The musicians are great, very nice, no problems working with them. Hard to schedule–but that’s not something you can be upset with someone about. It was frustrating, but we finally found a date they could come, finally found a venue (harder, of course, the closer you get to the date). It couldn’t be helped.

But once I had the plane tickets booked, the venue reserved, the sound engineer apprised of the date, location, and technical requirements, all the necessary equipment rounded up, publicity sent out…then, I said to myself, we were set. All I had to do then was show up, make sure everyone was in the right place, and sell tickets.

Yeah, right. Minor problem, one of the local papers did a lovely write-up, but neglected to mention the time, or give the phone number where people call for more information. And the same paper has stopped printing the comprehensive listings of calendar events, where people could have turned to find information like time, ticket price, etc. Well, that’s not a huge deal, the information is on the website, and in the other papers we sent the PR to, but it’s made my boss ([url=http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?s=&threadid=167817]remember my boss?[/rul]) upset. He’s also worried, because the article was mostly about one musician, and almost nothing about the other, and maybe she’ll be offended. Personally, if I were the other musician, and the article brought bunches of people to hear my music, I wouldn’t worry about the specifics of it. But the boss worries. If we’re really lucky, he’ll get up to give a few words before the concert and complain about it. He did that once before–a writer from the same paper did us a wonderful article about someone coming in a few years ago. He neglected to mention, in the article, the name of the small, not for profit corp. that brought him. Me, I didn’t care–the article meant we had a bigger audience than usual, and I thought this guy definitely deserved it. The boss was upset we weren’t mentioned, and complained about it in his opening speech to the audience. Among which was the very same writer, to whom I had given free tickets as a “thank you” for writing the article. Not cool. But that’s not tonight.

Anyway. Last night I hear that there’s a very real possibility that a crucial flight might be cancelled–leaving us one musician short. Well, theoretically we can go on with just one, either one of these ladies would give a great concert. Still, we’d prefer it not happen. I stayed up looking for alternate flights from nearby airports, trying to find one that would do, if worse came to worse. None of them suited, and the fares were amazing, to say the least. But you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do. Fortunately, worse didn’t come to worse. The plane took off, with the musician on it. I breathed a sigh of relief, checked over the stuff I usually bring, had everything packed, and decided to take a shower. Get out of the shower to a phone call from the person who picked them up at the airport–the harp didn’t make it to the connecting flight.

Now this sucks. She’s here to play the freaking harp, isn’t she. But, she says, if we have access to a piano, she can make do.

Well, we kind of do. In the venue is a piano–locked up. If I can find the person in charge of scheduling there, maybe she’ll unlock it for us. Except it’s Sunday afternoon, nobody is in the office, and I have no idea if the folks clearing out the event before us will have the keys to the piano, or even agree to open it for us–or how to get hold of them until we start loading in. So I go through the phone book, calling anyone named J. Doe and asking them if they work for Event Services at Local University? The gods must be on my side, because I got her on the second try, apologized profusely for bothering her on a Sunday afternoon, and procured her assistance in opening the piano. I’m going to ask the accountant about sending her a box of chocolates on the corp’s dime, because she deserves it.

Now I’m wondering just how the musician is planning to play the piano–given that she’s a harpist, and given that she doesn’t play her harp in a particularly conventional manner. But what the hell. If the piano is damaged, the repairs will be paid for somehow–that’s Somebody Else’s Problem. Besides, we’ve had unconventional pianists in before, and never had any problems. It’s just that I usually talk to the owner of the piano beforehand about any unusual techniques, so there are no nasty surprises.

The sound engineer, when I got him on his cell phone on his way to the venue, was distressed that he might not have the best mics for the job, he’d been expecting something different. I have confidence in him, he knows what he’s doing, he’ll make it work. The phone hasn’t rung for a whole fifteen minutes, the kids have stopped fighting and eaten their supper, Grandma will be here to watch them soon, and all I have to do now is show up and sell tickets. When the cash box runs out of singles, I’ll know that the evening has been made complete. Perhaps there’ll be a power outage, too, you never know.

Sweet gibbering fuck, has it been a suck-ass day. I’ll be glad when it’s over.

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sigh

remember my boss?

3

I hear ya, Bren.

Could be worse. The concert I did on Maundy Thursday, someone got into the dressing rooms during the second half and went through everyone’s stuff. I’m paranoid enough to take anything remotely valuable onstage with me (or leave it at home), but some people lost wallets and one guy had his car stolen.

I’m not sure if I’m more furious with the thief or with the piss-poor security at the venue. :mad:

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And before some smart-ass asks: no, the car wasn’t in the dressing room, just the car keys.

5

Wow, jr8, that stinks! We haven’t had that happen, thank goodness. Although I’m told that one concert before my time involved the rental of sound equipment. The rental company didn’t come back to pick it up for weeks afterwards (couldn’t be bothered, I guess), and by then it was gone, of course.
The concert is over, we have no idea where the harp is and she needs it for tonight–but not here, and it’s not my problem anymore. No power outages, although the first two people through the door had nothing smaller than a fifty–wiped out my change. Fortunately, Mr. Cameron was there and managed to find me some more singles. The music was really good–if you like that kind of thing. I don’t always, but I knew this would be a good concert. About five people walked out, including the radio ticket winners, but that’s par for the course. We had about seventy people, which is twice our usual audience, so that was cool. Now I can forget about work stuff for a few weeks.

Well, not really. I’ve got to send a thank-you to the lady who opened the piano for us, and also a few of the editors/writers who have been nice enough to give us some attention. And I’ve got to write up contracts for next season. But that’s it! Yay!!!

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I think it was Terry Pratchett who talked about how opera works on the Catastrophe Curve, in that the enormous number of things that could possibly go wrong spectacularly fail to happen. I thought this was a good summary of the performing arts biz in general.

BTW, I just read your boss rant, and can honestly say I’ve had a boss just like him. And I did quit for my mental health, because the upper admin knew there was a problem but were too namby-pamby to actually do anything about it.

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Dear gods, don’t tell me there’s more than one of him??? You have my sympathies.

It almost got worse–I just spent ages on the phone with the airline. One of the two musicians didn’t arrive at the airport she was headed for. The folks meeting her contacted me–did I know for sure she had gotten on the plane?

She had. The person who dropped her off said she was there in plenty of time. But there was a connecting flight. After ages in menu hell, I found someone who could tell me what happened–she’d missed her connecting flight and would be arriving soon on a later one. So she wasn’t lying insensible in an airport restroom, or languishing unidentified in some hospital somewhere, or lost with the harp or anything. All’s well that ends well, I guess. I wonder if I’ll ever hear what happened to the harp.

8

Well, if your harpist needs any further moral support, you could always remind her what Garrison Keillor says about harpists (admittedly it’s much funnier hearing it with the orchestral excerpts than just reading it).

I have lots of fun choir tour stories (usually involving Italy) regarding adminstrative nightmares. There was the time we actually delayed a flight from Bologna to Palermo for two hours when the buses to the airport got stuck in traffic. Given that the chorus constituted three-quarters of the passenger list, Alitalia were not happy with us. This may have been the world record for flight check-in, however – grab a boarding pass, fling your luggage at the conveyor belt and sprint for the plane.

There was the time in Rome the chorus actually refused to go on, despite a waiting television crew and audience of dignitaries, because of water. The BBCSC is, as far as I can tell, the World’s Most Accommodating Chorus when it comes to tours – we’ve performed in freezing cold venues with one changing room and one toilet for eighty people – but someone had locked the contractually-required bottled water in the bar, and choirs need water to perform. Fortunately they found someone with a key within ten minutes, and the show went on.

And the time outside Ravenna, where 180 non-Italian-speaking people had one hour to get dinner late on a Sunday night from a tiny sandwich shop… Ah, such fun…

[sub]Psst – do you think there’s anyone reading this thread besides the two of us?[/sub]

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Hmm. The views say someone is. They must be intimidated by our tremendous taste and intelligence.
Sheesh, the things that can go wrong! I can’t imagine singing somewhere there’s no water available, that just wouldn’t work! I’m glad they found the key. And thanks for the link!

10

I’ve been a choral singer for many years, and I feel your pain. One concert, in an unfamiliar venue, the entire soprano section got lost on their way to the stage (very Spinal Tap-esque). After about 20 minutes, someone was sent to find them.

I love the concept of the Catastrope Curve. Here’s a story I love where things that could possibly go wrong spectacularly do not fail to happen.
http://www.wards.net/~bill/humor/story/piano-axe.shtml

My current choir once performed in a convention center hall, with a car auction going on in the next hall. Our conductor was waiting for the noise to abate a bit so we could begin a soft piece. After waiting several minutes, the conductor threw his baton on the floor and shouted, “SOMEBODY BUY THAT DAMN CAR!”

11

Heh. I do love a good concert mishap story.

We once did a concert in Istanbul in a 5th-century chapel which had some unglassed windows in the upper levels. During the dress rehearsal, a group of pigeons came through and pooped on the leader’s desk. He was furious (what if they had pooped on his violin?), and we were in hysterics. Funnily enough, he didn’t appreciate the “Guano-eri violin” jokes.

Your turn. :wink:

12

It was the first time and only time an opera was performed at a science fiction convention, we were led to believe. OK, not a serious opera, it was G&S. Trial by Jury.

Since we were sort of our own people to handle the mucky muck of the show, we got a convention worker to lead the chorus from the “green room” to where they were to enter the auditorium. Apparently the convention worker had other things on his agenda.

Imagine my cardiac arrest when I cued them, and they were nowhere to be found. I looked around. The orchestra looked around. We decided to keep playing.

Middle of the second song, still no chorus. And the Bailiff was singing, in his best baritone, “Silence in court!” To an empty stage.

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I’d respond, but none of my performance horror stories are quite this horrific. :smiley:

Esprix