Stage Manager, Day One: A Tragicomedy in Four Parts

I thought I’d share this, mostly because it’s funny, and I like bringing joy to others, even (especially?) if it’s through my own embarrassment.

The story begins with Our Hero showing up at the the stage for the Evergreen Festival in Halifax, last Friday afternoon. I was all set to tackle a long but satisfying day of hauling cases, assembling trusses and so on.

So it was with considerable surprise and no small amount of panic that I received the news that I would be stage managing for the bands that evening.

Frantically, I opened my work app and scrolled to the gig for that day, to discover the words ‘EVENT STAGE MANAGER’ (yes, all in caps) emblazoned across the position field.

What had I gotten myself into? I had no idea what stage managing even meant, and it seemed a terrible idea to put me in charge of ‘managing’ anything.

Fortunately, as my point guy ML explained, he would along to handle most of the technical details. ‘You just make sure people get on stage on time, and get the players anything they need’. Fair enough; I could handle that.

First though, we had to set up the equipment we had on hand. ML directed me to the pod where the stage instruments would be unloaded, then packed away at the end of the night. ‘Let’s get you started on the drum kit.’ He said.

This would have been fine, had I known I would be doing something more than tearing down video screens that day.

Unfortunately, it had been months since I’d set up anything remotely resembling a drum kit, and my ever-present notes were locked away in my laptop at home.

Have you ever tried setting up a drum kit, while sneakily looking at reference pictures on your iPhone? Even if you had enough hands, it seemed there were LOTS of different ways to go about it, to my squirrelly brain.

We had time to spare however, and I didn’t want to bother ML, who was doing most of the heavy-lifting, like actually connecting everything to everything else.

I eventually got all the pieces more or less in the right place, and turned expectantly to ML. ‘How’s that?’ I asked? He glanced at the kit for about 0.56 seconds. ‘Your toms are upside down dude.’ He replied.

‘They are?’ I asked blankly, turning my head to look at them (and also quickly glancing at the image on my phone to confirm). ‘But, I thought the clear end was on top.’

Mustering a herculean level of patience, ML explained, ‘it’s not really about the colour of the drum head.’ He then turned over the drum to the black side – which was CLEARLY marked with thousands and thousands of stick marks.

Ah.

So I dismantled the stands, flipped the drums over, and remounted them, while ML headed off, possibly to rethink his career choices.

The rest of the setup was completed without incident, and the the first act of the night – a DJ – showed up on time. I unfolded the table for him and BOOM! Setup complete.

I then headed off into the wings to watch and take surreptitious notes. This became increasingly difficult to do however, as the sun went down and the temperature started to plunge.

‘I did not prepare well for this’ I thought for the 291st time that evening. All I had was a windbreaker, a tuque, and my work gloves, and the temperature was headed for -4º celsius that night.

There was a few moment of warmth while I helped the next band, but then it was back into the frozen wasteland of the seating area. A total of about 20 people had passed through so far, and only the bravest had taken a seat.

Tired of bouncing in place to stave off hypothermia, I finally retreated to my pod, where I discovered a small miracle: Someone had hooked up a small portable heater!

Breathing a quick thanks to the gods of electricity, I switched it on and slowly warmed myself. This dark metal box became my refuge, in between brief forays out to help bands or watch performances.

The funny part? A couple days later, I was to discover we had a fully heated trailer on the other side of the stage. Oh well, better late than never.

Anyway, the last band finally finished their encore, and we jumped in to move equipment back down to the pod for lockup until next evening.

I was dreaming of a warm living room by this point, and was in full packing mode when the pianist walked up to a case I’d just cleared. ‘Didn’t we leave our stuff here?’ She asked.

In a final twist of fate, I had managed to put away a bunch of the band’s equipment along with our own!

So, with phone flashlight apps in hand, we perused and dug out the cases and guitar pedals I had stashed away. Thankfully, the band was a good sport about it.

To be honest, it was still a fun event despite all the minor disasters – and it certainly set an easy bar to overcome a couple days later.

Hopefully you laughed hard enough at my gaffes to warm up your December evening. And if you have an embarrassing tales of musical mishaps, pull up a chair and pass them around!

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