At the weekend I ran sound for a monstrous cross between a village fete and a music festival. The bands ranged between dire and impossibly talented. Most of the musicians were charming and helpful, some were inexperienced overwrought children, some were disorganised, entitled teenage cocks who overran their timeslot, then took a fucking encore and then cleared down slowly despite the four bands waiting for them.
"Listen to the stage manager and get on stage when they tell you to. No one has time for your rock star bullshit. None of the techs backstage care if you’re David Bowie or the milkman. When you act like a jerk, they are completely unimpressed with the infantile display that you might think comes with your dubious status. They were there hours before you building the stage, and they will be there hours after you leave tearing it down. They should get your salary, and you should get theirs. –Henry Rollins"
The stage was about 4 feet high, and there was only one step to help you get up to it. My PA weighs about 250kg, I carried it up and down there twice and I probably moved the same amount of band equipment too. I'm not used to high-stepping exercises with heavy weights. I'm now so stiff and sore that my ability to climb stairs is severely compromised, and my ability to descend them (forwards) is lost.
Richard "Jake Leg Blues" B
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