So today I played my first gig with Whiskey Before Breakfast, as their second-string bodhranista. They have a new full-time bodhrani, but he couldn't make this gig, so I got to play in, and we had a terrific three sets together over four hours. The guitarist and I really got into the groove with each other, synching up and getting that great kind of unspoken flow that comes from intuition and friendship and respect. Good stuff. I really enjoy the prospect of playing with a band, as opposed to playing in a band.
The gig itself, on the other hand, left a bit to be desired. It was a big huge party for a large (and apparently affluent!) local company. In addition to really good food and beer, they had two (!) inflatable fun houses, a bungee-cord thingy that you strapped yourself into and slingshotted yourself up into the air, pony rides, horse carts, a driving range, this weird bola-toss game, face painting, popcorn machine, frisbee, basketball, horseshoes, and of course, us.
As you might suspect, we were definitely not the stars of the show. I think probably a dozen people applauded during the four hours, usually one or two at a time. Dour-faced kids watched us without dancing or smiling. The kicker was when a guy and his son (grandson?) started playing horseshoes right next to us. In and of itself, that might not have been too bad, but one of the posts was less than ten feet from my mikestand. As the guitarist and I were joking that -- given my predilection towards spectacular and humorous injury -- I should probably go and get a bike helmet out of his car ("Just make sure I have clean underwear on if I have to go to the emergency room," I said) the older man chucked a horseshoe that bounced off the stake and rolled into our midst, clanging off our monitors.
Now as an aside, the title of this post comes from a term the Ann Arbor-area Irish players used to refer to a gig where the musicians are so completely ignored that they might as well be a ficus plant, just there for set dressing. Proving that this was indeed a Ficus Gig, the older man walked in front of us while we were still playing our set, retrieved the errant horseshoe, and said "It just rolled there. I didn't throw it hard."
Needless to say, as soon as we finished that set, I got up and confiscated the horseshoes. "They can have them back when we're on break," I told my bandmates, who thoroughly approved.
Yeesh.
Still, good food, good beer, nice day, great tunes, fantastic bandmates, and cash in my pocket. The equation balanced out well, I think.
Ah yes, Ficus gigs.. At least no one said the standard "Play something we know"??? (presumably wanting some crap like Danny Boy, Unicorn SOng, or something even WORSE!)...