Monday, 18 February 2013

Aaron Childress / Look What I Did

Name: Aaron Childress

Band: Look What I Did (

Where: Nashville

ED: I have a lot of time for this band, Aaron and Barry (singer). Although I've never met any of them and they've never toured the UK, I've had many a great conversation with them as well as plugging each other's bands back and fourth on the internet; testament to the power of music and it's ability to bring people together. If you're a fan of silly time signatures and Mr. Bungle, you should listen to LWID.

[We were playing] a benefit show for a long time friend of the band, who was facing unexpected medical bills due to an incident wherin he defended his family from a home invasion.

The place was a local Nashville venue with a reputation for being professional and having good sound. Five acts that night and we went on fourth. The sound guy was a big pushy galut but he seemed good natured enough. He had that "I'm in charge of this stage so snap to it!" sort of attitude that old sound guys get, but I'd seen it all before. Just play along and you'll probably sound awesome. I did play along. Happily grabbing cables, scouting for the bass player of the third band, and scooting gear an inch to the left or right of stage as he deemed appropriate.

Once we get our set underway the room and stage sound are pretty damn acceptable. I wasn't spontaneosly ejaculating from the perfection of it all, but it was 'Nashville Club Sound' acceptable.
The show is going great until the second to last song. I break a string and have to switch to this horrid backup that I'd been banging around on countless tours. Neglected like a pimply kid on prom night the old girl was misbehaving from the first chord on.
Now, if you have ever seen me perform, you know that losing my gourd is par for the course. Well, that night I shot eagle on the last hole.
The guitar was all fritzing and spitting and wonking and losing it's tune, and with the final crescendo of the song it sort of began lifting itself off my shoulders. Up over my head it came. As the strap cleared my noggin, the neck of the guitar somehow affixed itself firmly to the palms of my hands as the body of the instrument drove itself suicidally, and with great force, into the stage below.
What followed was the usual explosion of wood shards and pickups. While it probably looked spectacular, the only person near enough to be endangered besides myself was my singer.
Our set ends and I busy myself handing out guitar chunks to interested audience members. Before I can turn to pack my equipment up our soundguy friend appears, and he does not seemed pleased with me at all.
He opens his mouth to say something but I'm all wound up from the show and I cut him off.
I say with a smile "Sorry bud, I guess I got a little mad at my guitar just then."
To which he replies "Yeah, you're gonna be sorry when I figure out what you did to my stage."
To which I reply "If that is your attitude, fuck you and fuck your stage."
Super mature, right?
He thought so too, and jumped on stage so that he could put his face really close to mine.
At this point I'm thinking there's going to occur some kind of physical touching between us for sure. My hands go to my sides and I ask once, twice, thrice for him to step away from me.
I receive a cussing accompanied by a fine mist of saliva in response.
So I do the only thing I could think of. Taking inspiration from Bugs Bunny, I give him a big heatfelt kiss on the lips.
(Oh, did I mention I was wearing a skirt on this night too?).
Apparently this is too much for my friend's in programmed homophobia to handle and he flies off of it. 
After he delivers a couple of weak fisties to my cheek I sort of let the old guy get a weak hold around my neck, and he's making a big scene yelling and cussing.
All this happens fast and my singer is on him breaking it up. He shrieks for security and has me thrown out and banned.
stand in the cold and while the rest of my band pulls all my gear out to be loaded for me.

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