I never thought I’d show up to a gig and have a man wearing a thong offer to help carry my gear.
Okay, this deserves some explanation. My band has this little problem: We are incapable of turning down a charity gig. We’ll do just about anything for a legitimate cause or organization, and we really dig pitching in for natural disasters.
Which is what brought us to a backyard pool party in central Phoenix a few
Believe it or not, this isn't the weirdest stage we've ever played on. And that's far from the first person with too liquor in them to join us onstage.
years ago. Our then-bassist, Stacy, told us a co-worker needed a band for a Hurricane Katrina fundraiser. Immediately, everybody agreed. No further explanation needed.
But hold on just a second, she said – the crowd would be almost all gay men, with the odd “fruit fly.”
Again, no hesitation from the band. We were set.
“Can I Help You With Your Equipment?”
That’s how I encountered an exfoliated, shaved and oiled man in a black banana hammock offering his assistance. So I handed him my THD Univalve and a bagful of cables. We set up poolside, a perilous location when enthusiastic dudes were cannonballing into the pool. Sure enough, minutes into the set, water sloshed over the side and headed straight for the power strip that Todd’s gear was plugged into.
There’s nothing funnier than watching Todd gesticulate frantically for a little help to avoid being electrocuted. All while trying to sing and play a guitar. Dean showed up and rescued him before he got fried.
“You Guys Rock, but Can You Play Some Madonna?”
Bassist Emeritus Stace tunes up while wearing her "What Would Joan Jett Do" t-shirt.
The first set went well. They seemed to really enjoy us. But between sets, I had a plea for us to play “gay” music – and yes, he really asked for Madonna. I promised him some Joan Jett, which gave Stacy a chance to sing.
I forget exactly what she said about this. But the spirit of it is that’s quite an ego boost for a straight girl to have the undivided attention of a bunch of guys in swimsuits singing along with her.
I could see Dean from across the pool watching us. We launched into one of our signature songs, a fairly heavy Metallica-inspired rocker called “Stick it to the Man.”
Later, he kept shaking his head, laughing and repeating “I can’t believe you guys played that song.”
“Something to Eat?”
Between sets, the party host came up to me and asked if I was hungry. I asked what they had.
“We’ve got burgers, we’ve got chicken, we’ve got weiners,” he said.
I could here our then-drummer, Phung, squirming on his drum throne.
“Chicken sounds great,” I said.
Later on, Phung told me “If we’d made eye contact, I would’ve lost it.”
So, what was the net effect of our poolside performance? The partygoers raised more than $4,000 to help people affected by the hurricane. Stacy got an ego rush. Todd yelled at Dean. And I got to unfold this here story.
