The life of a musician: 09/10/09

Day two, as promised...

Thursday Night:

So we slept the night away on Wednesday night, and Thursday morning eventually came. While sleeping in my quarters (remember, it was the couch), I was in for an unexpected surprise. While Houngry/Evvron/Aaron has a beautiful home, the room I was in had an unnecessary amount of windows. Is there such thing as an unnecessary amount of windows you may ask...?

Fuck yes is the answer. I swear that this living room had 4 walls, just like any other house. But this particular room was 24% walls and 76% windows. And not just any windows, I mean big ass windows that are so big it's probably not even safe. How is most of a wall going to be straight window? And on top of all of that, guess what? The fucks that designed the house made sure that during sunrise each day, the sun beamed right into the house! Now that I think about it, those weren't windows, they were giant fucking magnifying glasses.

So as I awaken to the sun on my face, I suddenly realize that it's early in the AM, and I just went to bed at about 4AM. FML. On top of that, the A/C was accidently not turned on, so it's hotter than Jessica Alba in that piece, and I'm sweating like I stole something. The fan is conveniently pointed into Freddy the greedy fucks room, which is 100% protected from the sun. But of course, that inconsiderate fuck had to have the fan. Fuckin' Freddy.

Back to my suffering: so I'm laying there sweating, and I realize that I'm dehydrated. So I'm sweating, tired, and dehydrated, all before 8AM. FML. So I get up and get some water, and I must have looked like a cast member from the show "Lost" because Houngry's dad looks at me like I'm a fucking refugee. Like I've never tasted clean water before or something.

So I get up and take a shower, and when I come out some people are awake. They look all rested and relaxed, those fucks. I'm tired and delirious and these fucks are looking at me like why am I all tore up. Because I was, that's why. Those fucks.

So the first bit of good news, I have a breakfast that was wonderous. That's my word, wonderous, don't be trying to use that shit. We sit down and are eating, and all of the sudden I have a case of burpitis. Now I, for one, am not known for my burping. Guess what, too late. I burped for the rest of this fucking trip. Like an idiot asshole. This trip was fucked since jump street.

Fast forward to the gig. We all get our stuff together and head over to the Conga room. I think that sound check was at about 7PM, if I remember correctly. So we get there, and already I'm impressed with the venue. That place is bad ass. If you're ever in LA, go to the Conga room. It is across the street from the Staples Center. It's the shit. Ok, enough of that.

We get inside and set up our horns and drums and such. The guy who tried to fire us the night before is there, he's basically in charge. He has us go over some of the stuff and with the new trombonist I can see that he's happier than from the previous night. So we go through it, and he seems happy - and dismisses us. We find our way back to the green room and they serve us dinner. At this point I'm starting to get nervous and I can't eat. It's about 2 hours before the show and I'm sitting on the couch behind stage all anxious and restless. I remember thinking to myself "What the fuck is this?" - like what am I doing to myself right now?

After about 20 minutes I calm down, and we hang out and talk and walk around the club's different areas and come back and finally settle down to watch the football game that was on. Now the fun part, time to suit up. These guys are taking for-fucking-ever to get ready. I'm sitting here thinking, are we fucking men or women in here? I sit there for maybe an hour and I'm the last one to get ready. I'm thinking to myself periodically, "put your fucking clothes on and comb your hair and get the fuck out of there." As you can see, I wasn't too happy.

Finally I get my clothes on and I look at the stage from the stairs we enter on. Each time one of us peeks at the stage, all of the girls/ladies/women that are there lined up are screaming because they think we are someone. Then it occurs to me, that we are someone! We are the band. The band that's backing Jerry Rivera up - and that matters. Especially to these girls out there. They are literally freaking out.

So finally it's our time to take the stage. As we walk out there, the place erupts into screams. The sound guy says that there is 1200 people out there, and by the time we get out there, it must be more than that. Maybe 1500? I don't know, maybe more, maybe less. It was so loud as we took the stage, it was deafening. It was the shit. I'd never been on the receiving end of that before, and to be honest, I wouldn't mind doing it again. It was crazy. I reach over and give props to the guys, and we're all amped up, and then the emcee, or whatever it is called, introduces Jerry. Holy shit. There is a video of this that I've posted on my facebook page. Check it out. They count off the song, and a few bars in he comes onto the stage. It was so loud at that point I could barely hear myself, let alone the guys across the stage. That was amazing.

So we play, and we're doing well I'm happy to say. Throughout the night Jerry has these girls jumping up on stage and clawing their way to Jerry. One of them actually falls down and lands on the monitor (the speaker that we use to hear ourselves). She can't even get up until her third try, I'm sure she was hurting the next day. So we have a few songs and then there is a ballad where I am the only horn player that plays, and it happens to be a solo. Cool right? Yeah, except for the fact that it's in F# - which is a totally fucked up key to solo in. One of the worst I'd say. So I pull it off pretty well I think, for not having a clue it was coming until that day, and nothing to practice with and prepare myself.

Throughout the gig there are girls screaming for me to take them backstage, to get them to hang with us after and all of that stuff. I just smiled at them and didn't say anything, because I knew that I wasn't going to be able to help them, what can you say? "I'm sorry bitches, I can't help you." It was crazy. How do people live that life I'll never know. Jerry must have 100 babies running around somewhere. I mean, these girls were just about begging to join us. Wow. That's all I could think, was "wow."

So after the gig is over, we're getting drinks bought for us and fools asking us to come to their place for after parties and all that. Drunk girls that barely remember their own name, but saw you up there so they come over and say something in a language that is neither english nor spanish. I don't mean to emphasize this too much, but it was crazy. What did I do? Let people buy me drinks and get faded. Why not? :)

After the show we take pictures with Jerry and say our thanks, and surprisingly enough Jerry apparently doesn't speak very much. He's nice and his entourage seemed pretty nice, but talking didn't seem to be his thing. Slowly the green room/backstage begins to empty out and the club is 100% DJ. We hit the floor for a while and then eventually pack all of our shit and head home.

Another night of being piss hot, but at least Marco jacked the fan this time. It was a little better, but fuck me if those windows were just waiting for me to fall asleep so they could fuck me up the next morning. Faded and tired, we finally went to bed. One hell of a night. One hell of an experience. All thanks to whom? Fuckin' Evvron. Thanks 'lil homie.