How One Jam Radically Altered a Boring Gig

This is a story I bet many of you can relate to. Have you ever had one of those "not-all-that-you-expected," "almost-lame," "less-epic-that-it-should’ve-been" kind of gig? This exact scenario happened to me recently, but the sleepy, less-than-epic night was redeemed by something unexpected at the very end of the show.

On a rainy, winter night in Georgia, I was playing a cover gig with three other musicians. We were playing for three hours at a nearby restaurant that’s often packed with a late dinner crowd (who are often generous with their tips for the band). The thought of a bustling crowd tossing twenties and fifties into the jar is always exciting. Unfortunately, someone had forgotten to bring the container we normally used for tips. That was a little discouraging, but we started playing anyways, hoping to maybe rig something before the second set.

We soon realized, however, that our lack of a tip jar didn’t matter anyway. There was hardly anyone in the restaurant. The early dinner crowd had emptied out as soon as things got loud, and the venue was down to just a few stragglers at the bar. Through the next couple of hours, small groups of people trickled in and out, but the energy stayed pretty low. Most folks were just there to eat some food then leave...forget the band in the corner.

The evening droned on as we played our standards. We were still playing just as well as we ever do, encouraging each other that "one great rock show can change the world!" Somehow, though, it’s always harder to muster up musical energy when you feel like you’re giving and giving...but not getting back.

Then the jam happened.

We were due to stop playing at 11pm, and it was now 10:55. This was one of those moments where you have to decide "do we play another song...or do we extend the current song by playing an open-ended, listless freeform jam?" We decided on the latter.

We found ourselves unintentionally improvising a new section to a song I can’t even recall now. It was something in 6/8, but we’d now morphed into a different feel with a different time signature. The bass player was playing in 11/8, which took me a minute to figure out! This riff he’d created was now propelling the band into something new and interesting...and very unexpected. This caused all of our ears to perk up in a new way, inspiring creativity and higher musicianship. This strange groove was the perfect remedy for our "phoning it in" that we’d settled into. We were now actively listening to one another, playing super cool and musical parts - and having a blast doing it. And the best part was...there were about 6 people in the audience. We didn’t care.

When we wrapped up our improvisatory symphony, we all looked at each other with wide eyes. "Guys...That may have been the coolest thing we ever played." As we packed up our gear after a tiring three-hour evening, we weren’t really tired anymore. We were on a musical high fueled by creativity and inspiration. That single creative turning point changed the entire outlook on this boring, cold, wet evening.

Now I know that not every gig presents the perfect opportunity for an open-ended jam. Depending on where you’re playing or who you’re playing with, you may need to stick with what you've rehearsed and be creative within that framework. But don’t be afraid of jamming and finding new inspiration when the time presents itself. Every great jam with great musicians is exhilarating on some level because of the very aspect that affected me here. Playing something fun outside of a structured form is freeing, and it calls upon the highest level of musicianship from all involved. At a minimum, do this in practice or rehearsal sessions with people you play with. Encourage pure "jamming," finding new musical inspiration. You never know what you all might come up with. It could even change your whole outlook on a gig...or on drumming itself!

God Bless,

Stephen