Update: January 2nd 2014 I just learned that Tabby Thomas died today at the age of 84. Tabby Thomas used to own Tabby’s Blues Box and Heritage Hall and it was the first venue I ever played at as a musician. I was with my band, 11th Hour, and we were trying out for his Louisiana Original Music Festival. Not too long back I wrote a little bit about my experiences while playing at this venue. Enjoy:
Musicians are interesting bunch, huh? They’ve always got stories from the road. There’s always some crazy tale about backstage shenanigans and how they were held up at gun point by some crazed clown in a Behemoth t-shirt. There’s always some nutty little adventure to be told about how the bus broke down and they all had to hitch a ride with a car load of cult members. And if the stories aren’t crazy then typically the musicians themselves are crazy. They’ve got some half-cocked stupid advice they can’t wait to dole out about what they learned in their life travels. And if you’re just starting out in live music and you want some great stories to tell then there’s no better way to get them than booking a show for your band in the worst part of town, in the worst possible club, and to a crowd that you know will absolutely hate whatever it is you’re going to play.
I started playing bass at around 14 years old. By the time I was 16 I was already playing in bars. At 17 years old I was in a band called “11th Hour” (named after the Fates Warning song) and we got the opportunity to play at something called the Louisiana Original Music Festival. However, in order to be booked into the festival you had to kinda try-out for it. These try-outs were held at Tabby’s Blues Box and Heritage Hall in downtown Baton Rouge.
Tabby’s Blues Box was run by a guy named Rockin’ Tabby Thomas, a famous New Orleans blues musician. This little bar was a bit of a dive and was located in an area of Baton Rouge that wasn’t the nicest to hang around in.
Baton Rouge is a strange place. You can be in a really nice area one minute and then turn the corner and be in Murder Kill Kill City the next. That being said, Tabby’s Blues Box had style even though it was located in the middle of Shoot Whitey Rd and Beat Honkey Blvd. Yes, it had character. And it also had characters. The people that frequented Tabby’s Blues Box didn’t exactly look like they listened to metal.
We found this out when we first walked through the door. Our drummer turns to the band after seeing the locale and said, “okay, we’re playing the slowest song we have. Nothing heavy.”
Standing on stage at this joint was intimidating. We’re looking out at all the people that are looking back at us like we just arrived from the Mars. And Mars was ruled by Headbangers. Over at the bar was a guy who divided his time pouring drinks and making jambalaya. There were tables of locals that all looked like they only owned records and still had rotary phones. Over on the other side of the bar there appeared to be a prostitute and her sugar daddy. And then right in the middle was one of the band’s friends: a guy with a green Mohawk haircut a Killer Klowns From Outter Space personality.
I was thinking, “this isn’t going to go well.” But I have to say that when we first started playing the crowd couldn’t have been cooler. Half way through the first song I could tell that the blues-based audience of elderly gentleman with plates of jambalaya and glasses of cheap beer were really trying to get into it. They were very open to what we were doing and gave us a shot.
After the show we stuck around and hung out with everyone. While we were outside I was having a conversation with one of the bar patrons that had seen our show. My guitar player was with me and as we talked to this guy we could hear someone else taking the stage. The guy on stage was doing something that sounded like playing a harmonica…but he didn’t have a harmonica. He was playing guitar and making a harmonica impression with just his mouth. It was odd. But it was stripped down, honest, from the heart, and it was the blues. No keyboards, no laptops, no pedal boards.
And then I heard gun shots.
I was pretty young back then and was in a bit of denial. “Was that fireworks?” “Oh, that’s no fireworks but don’t worry, you’re a musician. Those bullets will swerve right past you.”
I just want to let everyone know that just because you’re a musician bullets will not change their trajectory and swerve right past you. No matter how much faith you have in a higher power if a bullet comes your way there’s actually very little you can do to change its course given the amount of time a normal human being has to respond. Contrary to believe, musicians don’t possess force fields.
It was around this time that we all decided to pick up our gear and go ahead and get the hell out of the area.
We eventually got the gig with the festival even though it was never put on. It was kind of the tradition of the Tabby’s Blues Box experience to be let down by any promises by Tabby Thomas. He liked us so much he said he wanted us to be the house band for the place. However, on the nights we were supposed to play they would sometimes never show up to the bar to open up and let us in. So we’d be standing outside the bar with all our gear and fans waiting to check us out but the doors remained locked.
When you’re young you should get in as many dive bars and awful gigs as you can before you’re jaded and fed up with everything.
All that being said, Tabby’s Blues Box and Heritage Hall was a strange and kinda cool place. The crowds were great and the gunshots were never intended for us.
