Last night’s dream went something like this:
Blind Albert had secured a gig as the soundman for a Stewart Copeland gig in Boston. (For those of you who didn’t click the link in the previous post, Stewart Copeland was the drummer for The Police, and one of my favorite drummers.) Blind Albert said he’dd like me to come along and help, but there were two catches: I’d need to fly to MA, and I’d have to buy a ticket. For the chance to be so close, and work with, such an amazing talent, I said yes.
I got to the concert. Stewart was already set up. He hit his snare drum. (Stewart’s snare has a signature sound: high pitched, with lots of air and crack. Incidentally, in real life I own one of his signature snares!) It sounded awful! He came up to me, and admitted he wasn’t great at tuning drums. I sorta pride myself on being a good drum tuner. I listened to his snare, and realized his bottom head was way too loose. I cranked it up for him, and then that signature sound was back. He played his first song. I don’t remember what it was. After it was done, he got up, and went to the bar that was set up behind his drum kit, and started to mix himself some cocktails. He also poured himself about five shots of Sambuca. He proceeded to drink them all. He was talking to the audience the whole time, and you could here in his voice he was getting intoxicated. He then wandered off “stage” (which was in the round–you sat all around his drums, which were set up on the floor of the club). Everyone started talking, trying to figure out what was going on. After a few minutes, on the side of the club opposite where Stewart exited, a video began to play on a big screen. The screen was covered by a translucent curtain; you couldn’t tell what was playing on the screen, but you knew something was. The curtain pulled away, and then you could see it was the video for Roxanne. “Ah,” I thought “this is all part of the show.” Sure enough, Stewart came back on stage from behind the screen–meaning he entered from the opposite way he left. I remember thinking “How’d he get over there without anyone seeing him?” The next thing I know, he’s dancing with some girl in front of the screen. They’re just slow dancing like two drunks, holding on to each other, shuffling around in a circle, each one almost trying to hold the other up. It seemed rather odd they would slow dance to a song with the intensity of Roxanne, but that’s what they did.
When the song was over, Stewart announced the concert was over, and he went and mixed himself some more drinks. I went up to him and said “Do you realize all these people came down to hear you play, and you only played one song!” He said (in a Brittish accent–which is odd because he’s an American who was raised in the Middle East–and he doens’t speak with a bit of English accent) “Aw man, I though I played two songs!” And I replied “No, you didn’t. And not only did I buy a ticket to see you, but I bought a plane ticket to be here!” At that point I said to Blind Albert, “C’mon, let’s get on the stage and play some Police songs for these people.” (And, of course in real life, Blind Albert and I don’t play any Police songs. OK, once in a while we drag out Message in a Bottle.) So we proceed to play Spirits in a Material World. Stewart blasts on stage, screaming drunk. I’m really upset. “Hey man, I look up to you. See…” I said pointing between my legs “…here’s my Stewart Copeland signature snare! I went out and bought this because I like your sound so much!” He said something like “If you keep playing my songs, I’m going to stick these drumsticks in your ear!” And I said “I’d like to see you try.” So he does this drunken lunge towards me. He’s so out of it, I easily twist him around, and have him on the floor. I’ve got him sitting on the ground, and I’ve got his arm twisted behind him. The bartenders are on the phone to the cops, and they’re asking them to come out and drag Stewart off! I then tell him something like “Now I’m going back behind those drums, to play music–your music–to these people who came out to see you, not me! And now I’ve got to play for them ’cause you’re too much of a drunk to care!” And as I started to head for the drums, the crowd started cheering, and Stewart, still sitting on the floor, hung his head in shame and embarassment.
