Those of us in the smaller audio companies do not usually have the luxury of loading into a shed or theater that is set up specifically for musical and theatrical performance. A good portion of the venues we end up working are spaces where audio and lighting are less than a primary consideration. They are a mere afterthought – if any thought was put in that direction at all. A good motto for all of us who are caught in this predicament might be, "Bringing audio where it doesn't belong." It's not pretty, but someone has to do it.
Where It Does Belong
I mean, seriously, how hard is it to go into a room that already has grid or designated hang points? It's routine – lights and video in first, after which comes the audio, and then backline or sets. Run your snake through the trough; tie into the house delay system, and, bada bing bada boom, you're done. The band gets to do a three-hour sound check, and then they retire to the dressing room to relax and enjoy the fruits of their rider before coming back on stage to play for an adoring crowd that hangs on every gorgeous visual and amplified note emanating from the stage.
At the end of the concert, the crew returns (the size of crew varies depending upon the venue), the backline is struck, the speakers are brought in, the snake and consoles are packed, the lighting truss is brought in and struck, the trucks that have been patiently waiting in the loading dock are loaded and dispatched, and before the four hour call is over, the crew is back in the hotel bar having cocktails and cruising for everlasting love.
No-Win Spaces
We Who Bring Audio Where It Does Not Belong do not have the comfort of loading into spaces that are actually set up to accommodate our essence. Hey, it's not our fault that some client decides to book a major recording act into a small, beautiful restaurant, hotel ballroom or event space in order to celebrate some fabulous milestone in their stupendously wonderful life. That's right, it's not our blunder, but by default, it certainly becomes our responsibility.
The amazing thing is that some of these clients are even record companies who, one would think, would know better, but alas, they too succumb to the lure of the newest, nicest and sexiest place to hold their event without giving any thought as to what might entail when they book a large nationally known act as the night's entertainment. Not once have these clients or venues called before booking the bands to inquire as to any unforeseen problems. They get so caught up in the fact that they can get "So and so muckety muck" to play at their event that they forget to even ask if it is feasible to do so. The artist, having been made an offer that they can't refuse, takes his/her deposit and passes on the necessary information to their tour manager, who then becomes accountable should anything go wrong with the event.
Specific, Varying Requests
We – The Company Who Brings Audio Where It Doesn't Belong – are then contacted by the client, the agent, the venue or all the latter and given very specific, though varying, requests for what is needed to make for a successful event. The artist, of course, is asking for as much of their concert rider as possible, the venue is asking for the least amount of hassle and the agent doesn't give a crap as long as he gets paid. The production company or, We Who Bring Audio Where It Does Not Belong, having accepted the gig because work is work, then becomes the heart of the problem. "Why is the stage so big?" asks the venue, "Do we need all this equipment?" they whine. "There's no room to store cases so they need to go back on your truck," they insist. "Our event starts at 7 p.m., but you can't load in until after our luncheon, which ends at 4 p.m.," they dictate. "We only have two 20-amp circuits, and you can't tie in," they declare. All this, and I'm still just working the phone.
I call the band and tell them to work it out with the client and the venue and then get back to me. They finally get back to me. and it seems as though all is well and good. They have compromised their stage size, we will be allowed to tie in to a panel, albeit one that's 400 feet away from the stage, and in a great act of generosity, the venue has agreed to give us another half-hour for setup and check.
No Easy Answers
Upon arriving at the venue, we, of course, find that the loading dock we were shown during the walk-through is not available to us, and that the street in front of the building is a "no parking" or unloading zone which, due to the Twilight Zone-type of laws in modern day Manhattan, carries a $150 fine for all offenders. With no other choice but to turn around and go back to the warehouse, we incur the fine and unload the truck.
The large freight elevator we scoped out and were promised is closed for the day, and the elevator we are allowed to use is not quite as large as the dysfunctional one, therefore the load in goes a bit slower than expected, but we stoically bully the gear through the basement filled with garbage and emerge through the busy kitchen just in time to find out that the caterer is fully set up, thereby leaving us no other option but to destroy the beauty that he has created.
Despite the odds, We Who Bring Audio Where It Does Not Belong prevail, and get set up/cases back on truck and sound checked by the opening of the doors, and yet "WWBAWIDNB" is still the villain for taking up too much space and making too much noise. "Check one two, aw aw." "Baker," one woman says, "No more check one two's, okay?" "Hey lady," I respond, as courteously as I am able, "I am just a vendor trying to do my best to satisfy the needs of our mutual client, who felt the need to book a big name touring act into your tiny designer restaurant. I am also trying to please the big name act that is being forced to play on an 8-by-12-foot stage. So, please excuse me while I am in the middle of being aggravated and go tell it to the client."
"Turn It Down!"
Of course, this is all a precursor to when the band actually starts to play, and both the client and venue person come running up to tell me that the band is too loud. "Turn it down," they yell. I show them that there is nothing in the system and all they are hearing is the band and the onstage monitors, but they still insist that I tell the band to turn down. For the sake of keeping the peace, I tell the band what the client and venue have requested, and for about eight bars, the band's volume drops, but by the ninth bar, the band has roared back to their original sound level.
The venue person returns and this time she is armed and dangerous. Holding it up to my ear she points the Radio Shack dB meter at the band and then shrieks at me "See, it says 100dB!" Yup, there it was, detailed in black and white, irrefutable, scientific proof that the band was too loud and whose fault is that? Obviously it's WWBAWIDNB. After all, the well-known restaurant did its job, the wealthy client merely booked the band and was just having a good time, and the band that is rich and famous is, well, rich and famous. Fortunately for all parties involved, the band stopped playing after a half hour. Unfortunately for us, as soon as the party ended, the venue opened their doors to the general dancing public, forcing us to pack up and load out through a raucous crowd of party people while the DJ blared through the house system. Hoo Ha, just another brilliant day of Bringing Audio Where It Doesn't Belong.
