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This is usually the result of a Better Idea. Club owners, friends of Club Owners, Guys Club Owners Meet at the Track, New Managers, New Partners and other such people get Better Ideas every once in a while. The Better Idea seldom results in an improvement, but it is different than the Old Idea, and something about the Old Idea usually bugs the Club Owner.

Sometimes the Better Idea arrives serendipitously, in the form of The Perfect Night. The Perfect Night is a special night when all of the stars happen to line up; the place is full, everyone orders the pricier meals and drinks, etc. But the Club Owner will sometimes mistake happenstance for causation, and will implement the Better Idea in an attempt to recreate the Perfect Night every night.

One such example was when a particular Club Owner double-booked the entertainment for one night; a band (us) and a solo act who sings and plays the occasional instrument with canned accompaniment. Each of us brought a good crowd, and the place was full to bursting.

Thus, a Better Idea was born. The same two acts would be hired every Friday, alternating five sets between them. All music, all the time, with nary a break for the audience to squeeze in a quiet word, for four hours straight.

I like music. A lot. But I think that an onslaught like that would be an ordeal even for me. And the average restaurant patron has still less patience for the Oldies Ring Cycle.

That particular Better Idea didn't get us fired, but you never know what's coming next.

I was in a band in the '70s. We played a lot of Disco (jeez), and we at some point got the requisite matching outfits; salmon (Okay, pink) colored polyester three-piece suits with dark brown Qiana shirts and matching paisley ties and handkerchiefs. To complete the <saucy French accent> ensemble </saucy french accnt> we wore platform shoes with tall chunky heels. I'm sure I have a picture somewhere.

Where do I begin? Qiana is as good a place as any. For those lucky enough to have been born later on, Qiana was a trademark for a shiny, almost wet-looking, man-made material. It was very thin, very hot, and the polar opposite of "breathable".

The ties were wide enough at the bottom to be tablecloths, all swirls of pastel pinks and browns. The suits themselves were just as impermeable as the Qiana shirts. The third piece was of course a vest, with lots of closely spaced buttons.

Then as now I was a casual sort of guy. Real casual. Okay, sloppy. So they didn't let me pick out the outfits, and I wasn't expected to like the result, but the shoes were my own special penance. Two inch heels with 1/2" platforms. And once the pants were tailored to length for those shoes, any other shoes would leave at least two inches of salmon-colored fabric dragging the ground.

A couple of the more fashion-minded guys had gone to the store to find these lovely petrochemical creations. They just gave me the address of the place to get fitted when I got a chance. It was a little store located under an elevated train track.

Even from the doorway I could tell that I wasn't going to be happy. The clothes racks looked like the paint-chip sample display at Home Depot. Even with that bewildering variety, my bandmates managed to settle on just about the loudest suits in the store.

In their defense, it was stage wear, and the five of us together did look uniform and professional, if not especially manly. But I had to wonder who all the rest of the hundreds of suits in that place were for, the mint greens, the lavenders, the cyan with the black lapels.

I still have the tie...

Ah, matching outfits, the cause of my latest trainwreck story.

Off topic though it be, I'll share it.

My handbell choir prepared an Easter piece. We've been a bit short of rehearsals due to scheduling, and we have some new members including a couple of young children. But i picked an easy piece, and drilled them sufficiently to get through it. I knew we'd hit the notes - things like dynamics and expression would be ........ well, let's face it, a bit unlikely. You have to subtract about 20% for nerves with this group.

And just before performance, one ringer who also sings in the vocal choir asks me ME! which robe to wear. It's Easter morning, there is total chaos with the brass, the cherub choir, the Senior Choir, the bell choir, the organist, my own children, argghh.

But I'm a boss at work. so I instantly make a decision, knowing any answer fast is as good as any other: wear the Senior Choir robe.

Well, there was something I didn't know. Bell choir robes have split sleeves, vocal choir robes don't. Halfway through a piece we played flawlessly in warmup barely an hour earlier, she reached to turn a page, caught the bell handle with the unfortunately unsplit sleeve, and propelled it across the table. Causing her to turn two pages as she retrieved it, and ending up totally lost.

Rendering the ringers on each side helpless - yes they should count, but in practice if you're doing a scalewise passage and you don't hear the G you probably aren't going to play your A, and your buddy will not play the B, at which point none of you knows what measure you're on.

Crown Him with...................................the Lord......................hosts................

I really felt bad for them, because we were SO CLOSE to pulling off one of the better bell performances of the year.

The person assigned to record it forgot to push the button. She was afraid I'd be mad.....nah. No chance. Better to forget this one and move on.

Love this thread and have followed it for a while. Thanks Robin, Clef, Greg, Apple, and the rest of the cast of characters.

I'm only de-lurking long enough to post the official announcement of the musical selections for THE ROYAL WEDDING

(with credit to forum member andromaque, who posted this in Pianist Corner... I couldn't let another minute go by without knowing it was posted here, its obvious home)

Thanks, Legal Beagle! What a set list! I can tell already that's going to be one long wedding...

I was pleased to see the piece by John Rutter in there, as I'm (still) working on his "Antique Suite" for flute and piano with my daughter. I think it's nice that the royal couple commissioned a new piece for the event to give exposure to contemporary composers.

==================

Switching gears completely, the discussion of matching outfits immediately triggered a post-traumatic flashback to my days with "The Reedettes," the accordion band I played in during high school. Picture how loud and unpleasant a single accordion played badly is. Now picture a dozen ELECTRIC accordions, fully amplified, played badly by pimply adolescents wearing matching orange-and-white cowboy shirts. Thankfully, this was all before the days of Facebook, so no photographic or video evidence of my brief performing career exists. But trust me, it was bad.

Thank you so much, Legal Beagle, for posting this. Monica is right---it's one heck of a set list. I am up early and ready to tune into the festivities. My daughter requested tea sandwiches for breakfast. I am insisting we wear hats for the viewing. I shall print out the set list so we know what is being played.

These last few posts have been overwhelmingly funny. Tim, your bell choir stories are among my favorites on any of the PW threads. The choir robe incident is a riot, although I'm sure it wasn't so funny as it was happening.

Greg, I beg you to find a photo of your band in those pink Qiana outfits. And Monica, an electric accordion band in orange cowboy shirts? How I love this.

Apple, welcome back! We've missed you.

Here's to Prince William and Miss Middleton. May they have a fabulous wedding.

As one of the TV commentators said, "John Rutter, Composer-in-Residence to the Anglican church". A little saccharine and bland for my taste, with all those pretty secondary dominants sliding into each other. But at least British church music hasn't degenerated into amplified soft-rock.

I have always viewed sheet music with suspicion. I have avoided it entirely for some decades now, just to be safe.

A wardrobe malfunction, on Easter Sunday, naturally. Too bad the humor of hindsight isn't available to us right away. Maybe there will be an "app" for that someday.

I have often wondered why musicians seem to have the funniest stories. I used to chalk it up to the habit many musicians have of being out late among well-lubricated clientele. But I have learned here on PW that the "funny" seems to happen even in elegant company, even in church, and occasionally even at funerals.

It's partly the performance aspect; everyone makes mistakes, but an accountant's or plumber's gaffe is seldom attended by an audience. But I suspect that creative sorts also look at things a little differently than most people. Yesterday's (musical) performance disaster becomes today's (comedy) performance triumph. Lemons, lemonade.

There are photos, somewhere. But they consist of prints made from film negatives, and I am sans scanner at the moment. Someday.

They'll be worth the wait, I think.

My friend, a well-travelled musician and bandleader, was once approached with the idea of a short BBC Radio item on his amusing experiences when touring.

He declined, realising that every story would begin with "We got very drunk in XXXX......"

While not teetotalers, I seem to remember us being fairly sober, all the better to appreciate (and remember) the unintentional humor that seems to follow musicians around.

Whatever my bandmates might choose at a purely social occasion, at a gig the work is only half-over as the last note dies out. This was doubly true back then, when our equipment was much bigger and heavier than what my current band uses. A number of large clumsy objects had to be shoehorned into the van, and countless small items had to be unplugged, rolled up, packed in cases and carted away.

Even with our youthful vigor, this was a task best accomplished with a functional brain and body, not to mention the drive home and the unloading still to be done.

These days each musician carries his own gear and our singers carry the PA system. But back then we traveled as a pack, except for out drummer. ("I come with my drums, I leave with my drums")

There was only one way to pack the van, and only one guy knew how to do it. Even items as small as our microphone case had a particular niche. Any diversion from the proven arrangement, no matter how small, and the doors wouldn't close. We'd have to pull it all out again, only to find that someone had carelessly tossed in a toolbox (or a nickel) where it shouldn't have been.

There was occasionally comedy to be had even after nearly all the patrons had gone home. The alcohol content of the stragglers was of course a little higher than that of the general clientele.

One night there was a guy who had fallen asleep, deeply asleep, sitting in a chair with his head down on the table. This in itself was not notable, or especially rare. Bartenders an bouncers would escort such people off the premises pretty regularly.

But this guy may have been the largest human being I've ever seen up close. He was tall, maybe 6'4", and wide, (maybe 6'4" ). While he had ample extra girth on him, there was a solid mass of muscle under it.

It must have taken a prodigious amount of "tranquilizer" to bring down a beast like that, and he had consumed it diligently throughout the evening. In fact, his bull-in-a-china-shop attempt at dancing had actually knocked the top speaker off of one of our speaker stacks, saved only by the quick reflexes of the hapless patron it fell on.

It took us a while to pack up our gear, maybe 45 minutes. A couple of the larger members of the bar's staff spent most of that time trying to wake Sleeping Ugly. It was pretty difficult. Many of the things that would jolt most of us bolt-upright - a towel soaked in cold water, a slap to the head - had no effect at all. Carrying him out - he was at least 350 pounds - was simply not an option.

They finally managed to get him roughly vertical and struggled to walk him outside, one under each shoulder. I suppose in more enlightened times they might have gotten him a cab, but I guess they didn't think of that. They locked the door behind him and breathed loud (and profanity-laced) sighs of relief. I remember applause among the bar staff.

We had been packing up the whole time, chuckling a bit as we grunted our gear out the side door. We were just about done when who but "Polyphemus" wobbled back in though that door. He proceeded to find the very same chair and table, and was promptly unconscious again.

This wasn't the guy who later (at another gig) appeared naked on the roof. was it? Sometimes I think that all drunks are the same person, or maybe have the same mother.

Great story, greg! thanks for that.

I can't get Tim's bell choir tale out of my head. I told my husband this morning, and he said, "Well that just goes to show you how important ONE NOTE can be."

I am listening to my daughter compose a song right now. Nothing makes me happier.

One of my June brides (the Swiss one) showed up again at the castle last night, just to double check everything. She showed me an amazing schedule for the wedding, complete with times for the songs she has selected (she chose them from one of my CDs, so she has the exact times). I hope, for instance, I can play the P. Canon in exactly 4 minutes and 8 seconds. No event planner for this woman, she has everything UNDER CONTROL. Actually, I like her. She is very organized but very sweet at the same time. I like a gal who knows what she wants.

No weddings this weekend. I guess no one wanted to compete with Wills and Kate.

Definitely different people. They were separated by 30 years, for one thing. Beyond that, Sleepy looked frighteningly strong; built of steel and sinew. I doubt he had a mother at all, more likely formed directly from primeval materials. The naked guy, by contrast, seemed to have no structure at all; a giant formless amoeba of pink flesh.

There could be an impish drunken spirit that inhabits the bodies of such people, giving them the similar qualities we musician/social observers notice. But if my experience is any guide, he'd have to be well-traveled, and busy.

First of all, I am not distressed or unhappy after this massive brain seizure I was whacked with.

But, I gave away 3 booked weddings!!!! quit my accompaniment jobs, including my funeral connections and am focusing on enjoying recovery.. really. It's a trip.

During my first days in the hospital i did not recognize or know my relatives, totally couldn't walk or lift my legs with muscles, much less keep any semblance of balance.. Now, two weeks later, I am pretty functional, (i gave a great lesson last week), can still play both instruments and can still administrate my husband's busines. I can't find anything tho, and totally forget what I am currently doing, but recircuitry is an interesting process. I just abandon task and then take it up later.

the drugs I am on are so strong... it will be nice to most definitely, eventually get off of those drugs.. . I feel so very different.. I am so simple in a way. I look in my closet and am absolutely delighted with all the cool clothes I've bought over the years.. gleaned from sales and the internet.. a cool Chinese coat, frumpy linens, things like that. I am sure there are those who would totally enjoy the state I am in.. these drugs would definitely cause me to get an instant DUI should i drive (I am grounded for 6 months).

I decided I should always have my cell phone in my pocket in case I fall or something, even on my own property. I went to get my cell phone from my purse (it took me about 10 minutes to find it even tho I put it in the same place usually). I picked up the cell phone, then the Burt's Bees chapstick and decided to take the chapstick instead of the phone because it was lighter. ha ha.

cheers to all. I am really quite happy, live in a fantastic place (my own little palace and grounds) and am enjoying walking immensely.) yesterday I found an awesome Rolling Stones hoodie in my closet with those red lips.. I donned a backpack, walked to the store in my suburban Kansas location (definitely not charming except for the little farm of goats and llamas that I pass) and thought I looked pretty cool.

today I will plant the concorde grape arbor.

apple*, you are the walking definition of "indomitable will." Sounds like you have recovered a great deal after a serious event, though I am sure it is frustrating to see what ground remains ahead. I will be sending positive thoughts your way toward a complete recovery.

greg, your "Polyphemous" story was hilarious. I could just imagine the looks on the faces of the bar staff when they saw him once again sacked out at that table.

That is quite an impressive frame of mind you have managed to hold onto. I can't claim to have been nearly so positive during a recent long illness. Luckily a lot of people stayed positive for me, more people than I could have imagined.

It sounds like you are doing well, but don't be afraid to lean on the generous spirit of your friends from time to time. You may walk a couple of miles to the store, but they don't need to know that.

I wish you all the best for a speedy recovery.

Could you run over that bit about "not knowing your relatives" again? Which drug should I order? :-)

Keep laughing, keep getting better. XX

Apple - talk about putting a positive spin on a scary situation!
I'm really delighted to hear how chipper you sound

.....(or is that just the drugs speaking?)

Kidding aside you really are making a splendid recovery, that's wonderful.

Apple, I knew you were recovering from some physical ailment but I had no idea it was this major. I congratulate you on your positive outlook and good humor, which, I am convinced, are the greatest healers.

I am also relieved that you are able to play, although, damn, I'll miss hearing about those weddings you had to cancel. But brides are like busses—you miss one, another one will come along before you know it.

Take it easy, play music you love, and focus on what counts. You will be okay, I know it.

Sending best wishes and much love from Germany!

On another theme: Here is the promo trailer for my new book:

Waltz of the Asparagus People: The Further Adventures of Piano Girl