Tour Stories: A Contrarian, A Poet, A Dancing Monkey, A Meshuggeneh and Their Kid Brother Walk into A Bar

By Dave Hyde

There is an interesting contrast that happens to you when you are in a band that is on a major label and you go on tour. Part of the formula has to be that you are not a big success nation or worldwide, but you have seen substantial growth and gained some momentum and attention in places that are outside what you have known to that point. Certain areas or regions you will do very well in and others have yet to ever hear about you or could care less that you are there. Early on, you never really know what to expect city to city. Then you play a few shows in a row and draw well at them all and you end up with a false sense of what to expect for the rest of the tour.

In this example, we were doing quite well on the East Coast. Some areas we had played on past tours, so that helps even more. Falling Star was out on the radio and MTV a bit at this point, so that helped as well. For this part of the tour we were fresh through Buffalo, Albany and Poughkeepsie New York. Up next was some bar/club in New York City. The name has since escaped me. Either way, we had played shows in NYC a handful of times with bands like Goldfinger and Rx Bandits, but we had not played NYC as a headliner. Of course, the venue was right sized for the situation and in line with what we were comfortable seeing on a headline run through areas we had been in or near. So nothing out of line while loading in. Nothing felt off at all.

One thing we didn’t have a good grasp on was ticket sales at most venues while on tour then. If we were, then we would have known what we were in for. We would soon find out that there were literally zero tickets sold for this show. Come to think of it, there were no fliers, posters, or any hints the show was ever promoted in the area. Not a single ticket! Talk about a fucking low moment! Whatever. You try to make the best of it. You hope maybe some folks will just show up at doors. You tweak your set list to work on some newer or rarely played songs. You use the night as a glorified band practice. You don’t get much time for band rehearsals when you are on the road constantly anyway.

You know what happens here. Doors open. Not a soul other than the bar patrons who are clearly regulars and not our kind of crowd. Start time. No one. Opening bands play to each other and us. This is it. Time for Showoff to get on stage. We walk out to a damn near empty club and a handful of guys at the bar just drinking, doing all they can to ignore the fact bands have been playing for the last couple hours. Oh well, you strap on your instruments and get after it. Make the best of it.

A few songs in and making the best of it is just not working. We had been doing so well up until this show. It was embarrassing and frustrating to say the least. At this point, I know all I want to do is split, but the way I am, I just can’t admit defeat. So what do I do in a situation where I am utterly defeated? I decide to try and get a rise out of the folks sitting at the bar, oblivious to the show happening right behind them.

We had wireless at this point, so I was always a big fan of being able to wander away from the stage at some point anyway. While playing, I walk out to the bar and start rocking my bass more ridiculously than I normally do. Dancing behind them, making fun of them, doing all my best 80’s hair band impersonations… Still almost no mind paid to me from them. Chris is altering lyrics to whatever we were playing to make fun of them and the situation. The song ends, and all the guys from the stage are hurling all their sarcastic remarks at them now. I am still down there, baffled that they literally still won’t hardly acknowledge I am there or the band is on stage.

Dan clicks us in on the next song, and I hop up on the bar. Now this got some attention. That attention fired me up. Now what do I do with it? Well I start walking down the bar. Knocking off drinks that weren’t snatched up quickly enough. Shaking my ass in their faces. On my knees, in their faces, acting like an absolute idiot. I figured I was dead meat for sure. I was fine with it. An ass kicking would have at least gotten me something out of this night. I was ready for it.

Do you know what this bar load of New Yorkers did? They got a little upset, cursed at me, grabbed at me to get me off the bar, and then once they got me off the bar…. They cheered. I figured at their own small victory of my removal. In part, I am sure that was what it was. They also started to cheer me on. They were laughing at and with me. I booked it back on stage and this little crowd of people paid attention to us. Not for long. We lost them again by the middle of the next tune. Oh well. Whatever. You make the best of it.

At the end of the night we made zero money. The promoter never even showed up! Our wallets were light, which for a touring band is no joke to not get paid for a night. Our egos were bruised. We felt the defeat for sure. We slummed it out into the streets of NYC, loaded up our gear and headed to our hotel.

I can’t speak for the rest of the band, but for me, that night was super important. Maybe not right away, but soon after. You realize that you have to work your bag off to make it in the world of music and even then, you have almost no chance at success. If you happen to find some, it is really easy for that to go straight to your head. You start to have expectations that are unrealistic in hindsight. You think you are something special in all the wrong ways. This lesson was learned a few times per tour in some fashion or another. I learned quickly to welcome it. It was humbling. Humble is something I never wanted to stray from. My father always told me that in life, no matter what you do or how far you go, you have to get in there and shovel shit from time to time. Never forget where you come from.

As for acting out in a bar in New York City the way I did… I don’t regret it, but I don’t recommend it. That ass whoopin’ is waiting for you. Worth a few laughs, but that’s about it. I was likely luckier to have walked out of that bar that night than I ever have been working in the music industry.