July 19, 2003 - The Webster Underground - with: The Screwdrivers, Evil Jake, and The Means
HENNING: Pay to Play. Pay to Play. Do you folks out there in rockumentary land know what that means? Pay to Play means that the four bands scheduled to perform at the Webster Underground each pitched in 50 bucks to pay for the sound person and the door person. The idea is that then we would split up the take at the door or the sale of any tickets and recompensate ourselves that way. The way these things tend to work out, though, is that hardly anybody shows up and the bands end up paying 50 dollars for the priviledge of playing to an empty room (or in this case a room of 15 other musicians who are all waiting to play for you.) It's a sad state of affairs and it's really nobody's fault other than the bands. Of course, coming from out-of-town we had no idea what to expect of the Webster Underground. Although, Jason of the Heros did let out a little harumph when I mentioned playing there. The Webster Underground is the exact opposite of the Space. The Space has a supportive and inspiring atmosphere while The Underground lives only to beat you down. Located in a depressing neighborhood of boarded up buildings and honking cars, at first the Webster shines like an oasis, and perhaps for the national acts that play in the theatre proper it serves as one also. The connected smaller club known as the Underground, however, opitimizes everything that leaves a bad taste in my mouth in the rock world. Stale beer smell, old smoke, black walls, ripped apart furniture, angry owner, loud angry music, no sign of any imagination or inspiration, a few beer signs on the wall, a pool table too close to the walls to play, restrooms with open doors, and the little bottles of spring water cost $2.50, not a smile in the house. The plusses were this, the sound person Casandra was nice, the sound quality was actually pretty good, and the Screwdrivers were good (the band, not the drink, I was conserving my king's-ransom-costing water, sipping gingerly.) We played our half hour show to hardly anyone and then we got off the stage. Max and Brian took off immediately and Tony and I stayed behind to enjoy the Screwdrivers. There was another band before them that fit into the Webster Underground perfectly. I didn't really talk to any of the band members and I don't remember one thing about their music. However, their manager/promoter/lawyer was unforgettable. As the band played, she scampered around the room while badgering folks to sign their mailing list, talking up the band to everyone, explaining certain songs ("during this song, everytime the singer says "sorry" you are supposed to do a shot), dancing and cheering. She was a beacon of enthusiasm and a chapter straight out of a "so-you-want-to-promote-a-band" pamphlet, which was wonderful, I wish I had that much energy...ever. But, in the long run she upstaged the band, it really should have been her on the stage, I bet she would be perfect as a performer. The Screwdrivers played a nice set of musical music. They have some really good songs and each time I see them their arrangements get a little bit tighter and wilder. At one point, during a psychedelic freakout, they broke into Omnivore for a few bars. Pretty funny. As soon as they were done, Tony and I grabbed our stuff and got-the-hell-out-of-there. Pay to play this, Webster. We won't be returning to that pit of despair any time soon.