Oh, into the summer I go, alone, as apparently my writing partner is MIA. Join me as I relate the exciting trials and tribulations of a true anklebiter. And let me know some of your experiences so I can pass them on to other catfish in the sound engineering pond.
Size Isn’t Everything
Let’s start with system size. I am comfortable enough with my sexuality to admit my system is not overly large with a 4-top and 4-bottom mains rig — two stacks per side — and six matched powered monitors. Not enormous, but I have some pretty big amps pushing it and almost everything is at 4 ohms. Being an anklebiter means every day is a lesson in how things work correctly and efficiently. I am always looking to work smart, not hard. I often refer to a 2-top, 2-bottom, 4-monitor on a 4-mix system as a “lounge starter system.” It includes a 16-channel desk with built-in effects, amp rack, EQ rack, 100-foot snake, mics, DIs, stands, cables and AC. Yes, I know it’s not even a proper sidefill system for you big rig mofos! Maybe a drum fill…
This system packs incredibly well into a 1998 Chevy Silverado with an eight-foot bed. My supposed friends, also sound engineers with the big line arrays and digital consoles (the previously referred to mofos), like to sing the “Sanford and Son” theme song when I pull up with my loud and proud rig. Not only is it unoriginal, but I really don’t find it all that humorous.
Working Hard for Cheap
The reason I am telling you all this is because I used to load and unload this myself. I was young and stupid and unwilling to pay someone else to help me do something I thought I not only could do, but I should do myself. It was exhausting and dangerous, and I was literally risking the family jewels for a few more shekels. At that time, the shekels were coming in less frequently and my clients were unwilling to part with them at an appropriate level. I was working too cheap! I bet none of you have ever done that.
Oh, yes, there were promises of cash and labor help for the in /out. The load-in would wind up to be a clusterf*#& ¬ with my inexperienced “help” making things take twice as long. And on the outs, the “help” would disappear into the night, along with the client, to head to some after-party while I tried to talk a bartender or bouncer into helping me load the truck.
Due to circumstances beyond my control, I was recently put in that position again, and being an anklebiter, I can’t really afford to turn down many gigs. But this time I made sure to keep the client with me at the end of the night, as he was my help. This gig was outdoors in Las Vegas. About half an hour into down-stacking speakers, wrapping cables and so forth, he said he finally understood why I needed and contractually obligated him for the labor. His friends had left him to do the work after all the usual empty promises. And the best part, he tells me that in the future he would prefer to pay me to have my guys, who are more efficient and sometimes almost professional, do this crap! I believe that’s Ken: 1 Clients: 0 (for this gig).
A Learning Curve
There is a learning curve, albeit sometimes a long, slow one, for all of us involved — the clients, the labor and me. But in this instance, I felt like the proud papa who sees the light bulb turn on for his child as he connects the thoughts and comes up with the right answer for the first time. It did take the willpower of G. Gordon Liddy to bite my tongue and not tell/scream at him, “I told you so!”
I try to learn something each gig. I find it’s usually before or after the gig where you learn the hardest lessons. And I guess the hardest earned are the best learned. But sometimes it is someone else who learns the lesson and you just wind up grinning like an idiot on the drive back to the shop.
