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Worst Jam Ever


ballstomonty
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I was remembering this story the other day and wondered if any other bass chatters have any stories about terrible potentially life threatening jam sessions.

Years ago in my early twenties when I lived in London I was on tube coming back from an afternoon rehearsal and this chap started talking to about playing bass as he said he was a drummer and did I fancy a jam.

He said he was having a party for his birthday later and was going to pick up a bunch of booze on the way home and that he had lots of musician friends. I asked about an amp as I just had my bass and he said he had something I could use.

The guy was cracking really funny jokes and seemed cool and I was always on the look out then for people to play music with back then.

I also had a happy go lucky attitude to life sort of "things happen in life so go with it".

Anyway I got to his flat with about £80 of alcohol he's just bought and scrawled on his living room wall in large letters is the phrase "Disrespect equals Death"

Remembering back I turned into a rabbit in the headlights desperate to leave but not upset this chap who it now became apparent had some mental health difficulties...

Anyway rather than mention anything I tried to make some excuse to go but he was still very upbeat and insisted I stay for the party and have a "jam"

He went out the room and returned with a small plank of wood and two forks. "I don't have any drums at the moment, but this'll work" or words to that effect.

I tried to explain the an unamplified bass and a plank and two forks wasn't really going to work, but he started hitting the plank with the forks in a jerky arhythmic way insisting I "join in".

Well "Disrespect equals Death" I thought so I attempted to play my P bass along with his fork based plank bashing. After what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes he thankfully stopped but still insisted I wait for the party to start.

What followed was the longest two hours of my life. It was obvious No-one was coming to this party but hey "Disrespect equals Death".

This chap was becoming more and more drunk as he was working his way through the booze he bought telling me how he was going to fix me up with some of the girls that were coming to the party and how I should pretend to be the "official drinks taster" in order to spark up conversation with these imaginary girls that were coming to his imaginary party. He then made me an "official drinks tasters" badge out of some white masking tape and a felt pen which he insisted I wore..

But hey "Disrespect equals Death" I thought so I played along slowing drinking a beer trying to stay sober...

Eventually thank good he went out to get his "girlfriend" who he was meeting at 7pm. He left stating I should wait in his flat for "the guests to arrive". For a minute or so I was rooted to his sofa in fear not wanting to leave as maybe he would be waiting outside.

Then I bolted stuffing some of his cans in my rucksack (why I did this I still can't understand I think was more beer focused in those days and also quite stupid) and rushing over to an ex girlfriend's flat which was about 10 minutes sweaty fearful jog away.

Anyway that's my worst jam ever...

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I had a (probably very stoned) jam back in the 80s with 2 drummers, 2 bass players (including me) and at least 2 guitarists plus god knows what else... I'm pretty sure it didn't sound great... wasn't life threatening though.

Some of the power supplies we used to plug into on the other hand...

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Maybe not too life-threatening, but it could have turned out much worse at a recent jam session this last summer. I was stirring my cider-apple jelly (OK, it's not 'jam', but it's close enough, isn't it..?) on the gas stove when I suddenly realised that I was standing so close as to set light to the front of my shirt..! I hastily turned the stove off and patted down the flames; luckily cotton doesn't go off with a 'whoosh' as some fabrics can do. No harm done, except that I lost a shirt in the process, and had to finish off the jam session in just my dressing gown (and trousers, of course, dummy..!).
A lucky escape, eh..? Next time I wore my pinafore; that's what they're for..!

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[quote name='FuNkShUi' timestamp='1452779366' post='2953402']

The masking tape badge to "attract" the girls is genius :D
[/quote]

Although the concept of tasting drinks as a pulling technique is baffling me, but then perhaps I've led a sheltered life :huh:

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Can't compete.

But...

I once worked in a place in Bristol, a very easy-going and fun job with lots of people my age, and one of the guys on my team was a drummer (pattern emerging?) who seemed very friendly and who eventually invited me over for a jam with a mate or two of his.

So I went along and we started mucking about with these "pieces" that he had. They were very strange. It was like a kind of math-rock-meets-world-music, but odd and disjointed. The drummer seemed fixated on superimposing odd patterns over certain chord forms while smiling a lot.

Eventually the story came out. The drummer was involved with a cult - sorry, "esoteric movement" - called the Emin. The Emin, as far as I could make out, believed in many things, including colour vibrations, numerology, the power of object's shapes, attaining levels of knowledge and light, and some kind of actual space exodus. The drummer was attempting to create, with the movement's local leader, some form of music to illustrate/accompany these beliefs. Hence the clashing time signatures, weirdness, and air of basic unlistenability.

I didn't hang around long enough to discover whether the Emin involved some kind of pay-as-you-go system. I suspect it did.

Edited by KK Jale
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This was hilarious haha!

Must admit I've gotten myself into some weird situations too, not unlike this one and maybe worse, non involving musical instruments however.

Just a thought funny if while indeed he did get his gf, and you did one people started showing up for said party. Glad you got out haha.

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[quote name='KK Jale' timestamp='1452780532' post='2953424']
Can't compete.

But...

I once worked in a place in Bristol, a very easy-going and fun job with lots of people my age, and one of the guys on my team was a drummer (pattern emerging?) who seemed very friendly and who eventually invited me over for a jam with a mate or two of his.

So I went along and we started mucking about with these "pieces" that he had. They were very strange. It was like a kind of math-rock-meets-world-music, but odd and disjointed. The drummer seemed fixated on superimposing odd patterns over certain chord forms while smiling a lot.

Eventually the story came out. The drummer was involved with a cult - sorry, "esoteric movement" - called the Emin. The Emin, as far as I could make out, believed in many things, including colour vibrations, numerology, the power of object's shapes, attaining levels of knowledge and light, and some kind of actual space exodus. The drummer was attempting to create, with the movement's local leader, some form of music to illustrate/accompany these beliefs. Hence the clashing time signatures, weirdness, and air of basic unlistenability.

I didn't hang around long enough to discover whether the Emin involved some kind of pay-as-you-go system. I suspect it did.
[/quote]

You sure it wasn't just Free form Jazz? Lol

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[quote name='KK Jale' timestamp='1452780532' post='2953424']
Eventually the story came out. The drummer was involved with a cult - sorry, "esoteric movement" - called the Emin.
[/quote]

Haha, really ? A couple of friends-of-friends got into that just after university...me and a mate named our band 'The I-Men' in their weird, culty honour.

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I can't top it either but here's an anecdote from the best man's speech I gave a couple of years ago for my (guitarist) mate Garry;

"One particular time, we were looking for a drummer and Garry finds
a potential one on facebook. We had him come down for an audition at a
rehearsal studio. When we met him there, it was clear right away he was
mentally unbalanced. Then he started drumming, and it was clear after the
first couple of beats that he’d only ever played a drumkit a handful of times
in his life.

After only a couple of minutes of this, he stops, and pulls out a bottle of
cheap whisky, which he drinks all in one go. Pausing just once for breath.
He then carries on drumming and surprisingly, the impossible happened:
He got worse.

After only a few minutes of this, I had the good sense to unplug my bass
and simply say: “I’ve got to go, bye”. I got out of there as fast as I could.
Garry and Steve, out of some twisted combination of good manners and
fear, stay and struggle on for another hour. After which, they tell him to
wait in the room while go and pay. They do so, and then literally run away,
and don’t stop running till they get to the train station. They left the nutter
there bashing away on the drum kit. The next day, the drummer (and I use
the term loosely), contacted Garry to ask if he got into the band."

Edit: Yes, I too see a pattern emerging.

Edited by Sharkfinger
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