So, wedding singing is not, as it turns out, just something I'm doing for a few months to help a friend, or earn some Christmas cash, or tide me over until I start a "real" band.
Nope. I've been singing at weddings for over three years now.
Three years of watching brides and brides' mothers cry when I sing Celine Dion songs. Three years of watching people all but ignore Luke, our fantastic guitar player, until we do "Sweet Home Alabama" and then, suddenly, fingers and fists shoot up in the air pledging undying loyalty. And three years of watching drunk guys get that look in their eyes. Oh, yes. The look that brings them across the dance floor, trying to lock eyes with me, smiling like they've got the most naughty, brilliant idea I will have ever heard.
It's the Request Face.
"Hey, you guys got any AC/DC?", "Play some Hendrix, man!" or "Let's hear some crazy funk!" Drunk brothers and uncles and cousins of brides and grooms get this bizarre possessive attitude with the wedding band. I call it the Man-der-ella Syndrome. Like, suddenly, if he doesn't supervise our every song, choosing only selections that will keep the party rockin', the clock will strike 12, everyone will go home and he'll just be a drunk with a monkey suit on. No matter what we play, there's no escaping the end of the night that someone else's money has bought. And I find it ironic that the bride and groom, the parents of the bride - whoever has actually shelled out the dough for us - with few exceptions, NEVER bug us. Just the fuckin' sawed off little men who, for some reason, seize the final two hours of the whole event to finally contribute in some meaningful way.
I used to think I had to talk to these clowns. Now I can see the look building two and three songs ahead of time. They're rockin' out to some dance music with a bridesmaid. The bottom lip goes under the top teeth, they start hearing our truly standout musicians (because being drunk can make you notice stuff) and suddenly, they see the band. For the first time, they realize there are human beings up there. Humans who can hear ideas. Good ones.
Matt, our band leader/keyboard player/male vocalist is usually safe behind the keyboards. But me - I just have a thin little mic stand to hide behind, so they always come to me. Like I said, used to, I thought I needed to acknoweldge these Drunky McStumblies out of respect for the family. But now, I realize, their families don't even like these dudes! How could they? They're obnoxious! So now, when I see the look brewing, I'm ready. And when it finally comes to critical mass - when the big idea for the song that will send the wedding party into a frenzy crosses their mind and they march right up to me about to open their mouths... I simply turn around. I show my back to them. I just pretend that, suddenly, I need to talk to Jimmie, our bass player, Jeremy, our horn player, or make some faces at Andy, our drummer.
No, I don't think I'm Jim Morrison. But all it takes is a few seconds of this, and the drunk guy loses his train of thought. His mouth stays open for a few moments longer, but believe me, his brain has already lost the grip. The song title's not coming back. Plus, he can suddenly feel that all the eyes of the people on the dance floor are upon him, and he doesn't want to stand there for long looking like the ignored idiot that he is, so he gives up, puts his bottom lip back under his top teeth, and bites down, nodding his head to the beat, scooting back to his bridesmaid with a jut of his chin.
And the band plays on...
So, the way I figure it, the stories are piling up and it's time to start recording them. Despite the fact that I never, ever wanted to be a wedding singer, I am. And while I am, I might as well reveal the absurd underbelly of the All-American wedding, from the unique perspective of the bandstand.
A view unlike any other.
