Sex, Drugs, And Bubblegum Pop, is our most outlandish column to date. Written by Mr. Jayce, vocalist for Secret Secret Dino Club and all-round funny guy, this column isn’t as much about the music as it is the experiences people in the music industry have.
WARNING: This column does and will continue to contain content some readers may find offensive. If you don’t have a sense of humor, this column is probably not for you.
“Chiggity check yoself before you riggity wreck yoself”-Ice Cube
One of the main reasons I love being in the music industry is all the crazy people I get to meet. It’s strange how many different walks of life are attracted to the music business. Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of crazy characters in the professional side of the music business, but the craziest ones exist in the amateur portion. While playing shitty empty venues across the country, I have seen some pretty unique things.
One time, the bass player of the band we were on tour with had his luggage stolen. He was pretty distraught but I figured like most people on the road, he wasn’t going to miss his stuff very much. A while goes on and he’s still frantically looking for his suitcase. I wasn’t that concerned because I was more concerned with spraying the entire green room with adhesive spray.
I couldn’t actually describe to you what was going on in the green room. It was pandemonium. The promoter, who introduced himself as “Lunchbox” had for some reason given us more than 5 beers per person at the show. I would maybe even say 10 beers. The beer never stopped coming and the people never started. This guy was the kind I promoter who friends everyone on Facebook and sends you a thousand event invitations to his events and thinks of it as promotion.
Other than the beer, the show was really horrible. I don’t think we were paid our guarantee. By the end of the night, the promoter was insanely wasted on stage singing with the sublime cover band he booked, and dancing how I would imagine people dance at The Gathering Of The Juggalos. But I had a pretty good time hanging out with my friends none-the-less.
As we are about the leave, the bass player was still really distraught about his luggage. We had accidentally sprayed his remaining clothes hanging up in the green room with beer too. I told him that I would help him replace his clothes and he told me that’s not why he was worried. He then told me he had a gun in his suitcase. A gun.
When I asked him why he had a gun, he answered immediately, kind of disgusted with me and said, “Why don’t you have a gun??”. I said “touché” and that was that.
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