I don't like taking parties or bar gigs, but sometimes you have to pay the bills, right? So there I was loading gear into the back of my Toyota Prius. We were loading for a venue that did not provide parking, and a rooftop gig meant a very small amount of gear. Of course, I was reassured there was an elevator. Fortunately, years of experience told me to look at this venue the night before, which by the way was just about an hour after I got the call to do the gig. Yup, no elevator!
Friday night, I arrived at the location and began to carry my orange Home Depot buckets of cables and connectors up four flights of steps, only to find another artist playing in my setup time. After a brief yet intense discussion with the owner, I was reassured that the artist would be finished only an hour after I was supposed to be setup. Then I began to address the issues of a one-power outlet on the roof for a four-piece rock band. He just shrugged his shoulders and said it's not his problem and don't run any extension cords on the floor or down the stairs.
After looking fervently for options, I noticed a frozen margarita machine behind a makeshift bar. Lo and behold, I saw a plug sitting behind it amongst the bags of trash and whatnot. I pull out my trusty 10-gauge extension cord and ever so covertly find my way to the source of glorious power. After disguising my cord in the rafters and over doorframes, I diverted my attention to the next dilemma… more power! I now had power for my board and two small amps, but the one plug on stage would never be enough for the guitar and bass amps that would soon be arriving.
I looked over the horizon to the roof of the building next to me and saw the fountain of AC attached to the neighbor’s HVAC unit. Oh, glorious day! I did what any good-natured and resourceful tech would do… I grabbed the young grunt helping me and pointed out his destiny. I reached into my orange bucket and pulled out yet another length of manna from heaven and tied the 10-gauge cord around the young warrior’s waist and said “JUMP – it'll hold you if you fall!” And so he jumped, and yes, the youngster made it safely to the building holding the treasure we sought.
After disguising our power among the remnants of an old satellite dish, the youngster made his way down one fire escape and up another to return to the next task at hand… rain. Fortunately, plastic trash bags make wonderful speaker covers, and as the mist passed, the band began to show. After attempting to reassure the band, apparently "the hottest band in town,” about the power concerns, they began their pre-show ritual of whiskey and beer and said, "just make it f***in’ loud man!" And loud we made it. This was one of those rare moments when I told the guitarist to turn it to 11 and stay there, and the bass let it all out because my little PA is for the vocal and a bit of drums!
After reaching a 110 dB on an open air rooftop and finding out the music was heard during a pro basketball game three blocks away, I felt complete in my journey. Alas, the party for the little spoiled rich girl ended, cables were packed back up in our orange buckets, four flights of stairs were descended many times with all the gear, attempting not to run down the drunks in the way, and the Toyota Prius was recovered from a parking garage six blocks away. In the end, the promoter was happy, the owner could have cared less, the music was loud, and no anklebiters were harmed performing stunts in search of power. But as we left the venue, I couldn't help but wonder how long it would be until they figured out why the margarita machine wasn't working!
Paul Kocel
Soul Fuel Music
Denver, CO
