Rock Life Tip: On Stolen Music Gear

Gear gets stolen. That happens a lot. Doesn't matter whether you're us, Sonic Youth, or Duran Duran (sorry guys, that keyboard is MINE now...)

I saw a band called XOXOXO a few years back while I was playing synth for Luxxury. On stage, this 3 piece had probably $20,000 of vintage synth gear. It was astounding. It took them a long time to load in. I saw a Moog Voyager, a Jupiter 6 or 8, and a bunch of other real analog synths. For a band that used a lot of sequences and backing tracks and MacBooks.

It didn't make sense to me - would have been smarter to bring cheaper virtual analog gear or use software on those computers. But I guess that doesn't look as cool or something.

If I were those guys, I would have been crazy worried about all that stuff getting stolen or broken or beered. Then gain, if I were those guys, I would have had great gear and been 20 something and WOOO WHO CARES ROCK AND ROLL!!!

Still, no matter how young and hot you are, that sinking feeling you get when you walk back to the van in the morning and see a broken window and/or door ajar is awful.

You can avoid this by not being lazy. Don't leave your gear unattended, ever. Don't leave it in the van overnight unless there is someone sleeping in the van or near the van. Load it out into whatever place you're staying. Yeah, it's heavy and yeah, you just played a kick-ass 60 minute set after waiting around for hours and now you're drunk and horny and it's 2 am. But do you really want to wake up tomorrow to no gear?

Good but rich musicians get insurance. Through ASCAP, for example, you can get full replacement insurance at a 1% annual premium (you tell them how much your gear is worth, then pay them 1%). That seems high until you realize they cover you for everything, more or less no questions asked.

Popular bands can get a roadie/thug to watch their gear. The pro here is these people usually work for no money. The con here is these people sometimes ARE cons. In every sense. Maybe they're casing you guys for one big score. Or maybe they're...obsessed...with you. And will talk to you. A lot. Regardless, it's one more farting bag of meat to shove in the van and eventually, you will want to leave them at the Denny's in Tempe, AZ.

A better solution would be some sort of tiny RFID thing that you stick INSIDE the gear. Hard to find, easy to detect with a reader. Vendors at shops could wave an RFID gun over the gear and see if it comes up on a list of stolen stuff or not. I guess I should say "ethical vendors", because there's always someone who will do the wrong thing.

A low-tech solution is to tape a business card inside the gear somewhere. Most thieves won't open up all the gear with a screwdriver to check for such a thing.

Unfortunately, none of these options will deter people from taking your gear in the first place.

My take has always been "don't take anything on the road you don't mind losing". The world is a scary and unpredictable place. Unless you're top-of-the-world level and you can hire a minder for your favorite instrument, don't leave home with it. Keep it safe and secure. Get a stunt guitar or double for it. You'll thank me later.

This has been another Rock Life Tip from Sid Luscious.

Bieber Deafens and other Publicity Stunts

While I was training with my personal guru this morning, I saw on the news that some "fan" is "suing" Justin Bieber because they were deafened by the screams of fans at his concert.

This came a few days after news reports of Justin Bieber speeding and being pulled over by police because he was being pursued, Princess-Di-style, by a bunch of paparazzi.

PS...did you know Justin Bieber has a new album out?

None of this is coincidence. Publicity stunts have existed forever.

Socrates faking his death (we all know what dying does for your sales and cred!).

The Beatles, The Beach Boys, and Charles Manson.

Too Much Joy getting arrested for covering 2LiveCrew.

U2 spray-painting a fountain.

I am pretty sure the person who painted those horses in Lascaux complained about how everyone was crowding his cave.

I could go on, but you get the point. Suffice it to say we've, well, *I* have tried just about everything short of   random acts of violence to get noticed.

Actually, I tried that once, too. But the headline "YOUTH SENSELESSLY PUMMELS SINGER CHRIS ISAAK" didn't play that well, and it cost me a ton of money to make all that go away.

PS Chris Isaak used to be a boxer and he kicked my ass nine ways to Sunday. Then he bought me a cup of coffee and a slice of pie. Nice guy. A++ would do busines with again.

Verse, Chorus, Outro

I.
I get to the studio before everyone else.

The rehearsal space is an unpleasant hole in a not great part of town. Inside, I find our rock cell and undo the multitude of locks on the door.

I step inside and close the door behind me. It's mostly quiet, save some metalhead shredding down the hall. I like this time. It's a brief moment of calm before the storm. I close my eyes and try to relax.

I assess the situation. Guitar player 1 has his gear packed and ready. I disassemble Guitar player 2's rig. Most of the cables go into the rack with the effects unit. I bring his guitar and his backup.

I coil up the cables for my microphone and effects. Pro tip: always bring your own mic. It won't smell too bad, is unlikely to give you a social disease, and you know what it sounds like  and whether or not it works.

I finish as the keyboard player arrives. It's just the two of us.

I am reminded of my first few teenage shows, loading all the band's gear into the back of my car. As we're finishing, the drummer arrives. He loads up his items and heads out. I lock up and head for the venue.

II.
"Two minutes until Pants time!"

We've been here for 2 hours already, mostly sitting around waiting. There's a lot of waiting in the rock life. We watch the headlining band make typical musician jokes while the sound team fiddles with the PA, snake, and various microphones.

Now we're backstage. This is perhaps the nicest backstage area of any of San Francisco's clubs. There's a couch and some drinks and it's almost cozy.

The band talks nervously. These moments before we start seem to last forever.

The band files out onto the stage and launches into "Baby Space". I hang back in the dressing room, as much to savor this brief moment as to make a grand entrance.

I pull open the stage door, smiling, and leap onto the stage. I wave at the crowd. The venue seems full - it's hard to tell with my sunglasses on. (I do wear my sunglasses at night.)

I grab the mic and pull it from its clip, and stomp the effects box to life.

The next 45 minutes are typically something of a fugue state for me. I know my voice is strong and the notes ring out true and clear. The band sounds great. I move, I dance, I sweat, I talk, I sing, I entertain.

People don't dance. That's not unusual. I hope they are at least having a good time.

...and then suddenly it's over. No encore when you're opening. Which is fine.

While the adrenaline is still online I hoof as much of our gear off the stage as I can.

I move back into the crowd. I talk to my friends, to my fans, to the club owner. The headliner goes on. They sound great. Very professional.

III.
I've returned all the gear to the studio with the rest of the band. Pretty sure we didn't leave anything at the club.

I drop Guitar Player off at his house.

The fog is rolling in. I'm tired.

At home, I park the car and listen to the hissing of the air at 1 am. I sit in the dark, a drink in my hand.

Being in a band is hard, hard work sometimes. Leading a band, moreso. Hard to understand unless you've done it.

The wind blows, and the windows rattle.

I don't know how much longer I can or want to do this. But I sure am glad I did it tonight.