Music Ruined My Life : Bar band equals death

I fucking hated being in a rock band and playing fucking bars. You wanted nothing more than to play the songs that you wrote and arranged for new people and some drunk broad who will never taste your semen (but you hold out hope) is screaming for you to fucking "PLAY RUSTED ROOT!" or something equally shit. Everyone there who isn't a family member, a chick you're fucking, a chick you wish you were fucking, or one of your friends who would never tell you the fucking truth that you sound like every other fucking bar band, well all they want to do is get drunk and try to get their privates touched after last call.

All you are... With that guitar strapped to your fucking stomach like a fucking circus clown? You're just another fucking tool in this particular tool's toolbox in getting his fucking tool tooled.

Sure these dipshits will talk your ear off when you take your first break from playing in almost two hours and all you want is a fucking kiddie cocktail and a smoke or three, but when it comes down to it, they're just fucking nodding until they see their prey out of the corner of their eye putting their coat on. None of these people came to this fucking bar to hear music. None of these fucking people care if you have a CD that just came out or a CD that's about to come out, all they want to do is sing Brown Eyed Girl and talk about that band they can't remember the next afternoon at that shitty bar last night.

The music industry didn't ruin the music industry, drunk people did. Ask any DJ and they will tell you pretty much the same fucking thing: the music industry, while blind to the needs of the consumer, is pretty much the same as it always was. Yes, it's full of blowjobs and cocaine and lies and thievery and miscommunication and assumptions and ass kissing and snakes and people who talk out of their ass, but it's all aimed at music lovers, not drunk people.

At least it wasn't directed at drunk people until I stopped drinking while performing at shitty bars where everyone else was drunk by your first set break.

You've spent all week rehearsing, all day planning out what you're going to wear, you've gone over that second bridge and the key change more times than you can count, and just before you're ready to play the new song you're finally ready to reveal, here comes Johnny Whiteboy. Johnny Whiteboy doesn't realize that after his 12 hour work day and 12 pack of shitty beers, that you've already worked a full 9 hour day, loaded up a van in the snow, drove an hour or three, unloaded everything while freezing and trying not to injure a necessary finger, set up the stage, tried to soundcheck, found a faulty solder on your only 25 foot instrument cable, driven around a city you don't know to find a Radio Shack, bribed the fucking Shack guy to reopen the store to let you buy a soldering iron that you don't really fucking need because you have 3 at the rehearsal spot all to make one fucking solder, then you flew back to the bar and soundchecked, ate a greasy dinner without even tasting it or breathing that you paid full price for and couldn't afford anything other than the luke warm bottled water that the bar manager left out by accident and will charge you for when you approach him after you're all loaded up and ready to get paid.

Jenny Drunkbroad doesn't care that you're trying to get people you don't know or live with to listen to three new songs over the course of five fucking hours because she only has 5 hours to go from sober and screaming WOOOOO to buzzed and screaming WOOOOO to kind of shitty and screaming WOOOOO to falling down and screaming WOOOOO to throwing beers at you because you wouldn't play a fucking song you either played before they started charging a cover or have never heard of. Jenny Drunkbroad is not only selfish and self centered and certain she is the center of the fucking universe, she is not alone. Jenny Drunkbroad will actually have a boyfriend/girlfriend tiff with you while you are on stage (or the corner of a sticky bar floor) that you weren't made aware of, but her friends and their eye games will make it clear whether or not they are relaying that Jenny Drunkbroad wants to lick your sweaty schwanz in the band van, or that she's really angry with you for not playing Black Eyed Peas at the exact moment she screamed for it, which was actually during a Black Crowes/Steely Dan medley.

No, Johnny Whiteboy and Jenny Drunkbroad aren't there to see you, JW and JD are there for themselves. And rightly so, they've earned the right to waste their money on cheap booze and public intoxication tickets, all we are is a soundtrack that they should have the right to adjust as they see fit, MIDDLE OF THE fucking SONG BE DAMNED!

Bar bands who want to be rock bands have no place playing 4 shows a week at bars that serve food and host mainly cover bands that only play a certain genre's covers. Bar bands that are content with being human interpretations of what a fucking iPod can do these days, hey go for it. The blowjobs you receive are from Jenny Drunkbroad (or Johnny Whiteboy, I ain't dickscriminatin') and they won't remember them anyway.

I never wanted to be a in a bar band, I just wanted to play my guitar for people.

Fuck you.