Sex, Drugs, And Bubblegum Pop (Week 25)


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.

“Get that money”-me

I’ve played some really bad shows in my life. Shows with 0 people paid, shows where everyone has walked out, shows where I was too drunk to play, shows where I didn’t get paid, etc. I used to be much meaner than I am now to bad promoters.

The internet is so over saturated with garbage no one cares about. We probably should have just left the internet for porn because everything else on the Internet just seems a little too overwhelming. But with that said, promoters have used the internet since it’s invention to do a really bad job at promoting shows. Everyone has that one guy they know that just sends them hundreds of event invites to his dub step parties which used to be concerts. Back when I started playing music local promoters actually cared about shows. They would print posters,flyer around town, have bands sell tickets, and work hard. Facebook made most promoters think they could get out of doing that stuff by sending monotonous messages to people he doesn’t really know. I can’t throw all promoters under the bus though because there are some great ones out there who still care and I still look forward to playing shows for.

I can remember one of the worst shows I have ever played was back when I used to tour by myself. The show was about 8 hours away and was a one-off for me, so it was basically 16 hours of driving to play for 25 minutes but I figured it would have to be good and they offered me $250 to do it. Being by myself towards the beginning of my career I thought $250 sounded sweet and I didn’t mind driving alone.

The promoter had set up the show in an art gallery and never got a PA system because she thought bands provided their own sound. That kind of set the stage for the rest of the day. I drew about 20 kids, in a town with about 10 kids. The promoter was mocking me because I drew “preppy girls”. I know for a fact I drew all these hot girls via text messaging and this promoter girl had done nothing. I also thought it was odd a disgusting pig was judging the only people that came to a show that she was running.

The other bands drew 0 kids and were promised the same guarantee and that doesn’t bother me, but I knew this promoter was not going to come up with my $250 let alone the other guarantees. It got to the awkward point of the night where I had to ask for the money, and she asked me if $15 was ok. I laughed and told her absolutely not.

At this point she started tearing up and I nicely demanded I receive the $250. I tried to talk to her like a parent trying to teach her a lesson. This is where the excuses come in. I hate excuses so I started getting mad that she wasn’t taking responsibility. Eventually she was yelling at me and crying her eyes out. So I walked her down to an ATM and made her take out $250 and she threw the money at me. Then she went into a temper tantrum and was yelling things like “I hope you’re happy!” and “I hope you know I won’t eat this month!”.

To be honest I was happy and I did know she wasn’t going to eat that month. I just had to get that paper. I felt bad about it at that time, but thinking back I should have done it to more idiot promoters. Don’t be a pussy, get what is yours. It feels even better when they are crying.

James Shotwell

James Shotwell is the founder of Under The Gun Review. He loves writing about music and movies almost as much as he loves his two fat cats. He's also the co-founder of Antique Records and the Marketing Coordinator for Haulix. You should probably follow him on Twitter.

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