Weddings are fun. Or not. It's a combination of things that makes a wedding a good time: fun family and friends, a bride ready to roll with the punches, a good seating chart, booze, a decent band - ahem. Here's a few things I've noticed from the bandstand along the way:
1. Don't keep the guests waiting too long while you get your picture taken. I'm not saying you can't have all the pictures you want taken of you, and you and him, and you and her, and you and her and her, and him and him, and them and him, them and you, and them and him and you. I'm just saying that, once you've said "I do," the party has begun. And every posed picture sucks precious time you could be spending on soaking up the amazing, once-in-a-lifetime vibes of that roomful of people who love you. Band tip: Hire the band to be on the clock fifteen minutes before you've told your guests to arrive and ask them to be on the bandstand, ready to drop the downbeat when the first person not dressed as a caterer walks in. If that timing won't work out for you - budgetary or other reasons - make sure the band provides a CD of background music to fill the room in the earliest moments. It's so awkward for guests to walk in to a silent room. What about guests who arrive more than fifteen minutes early? Screw 'em. They probably wouldn't know an awkward situation if they arrived fifteen minutes early for one.
2. While a live band is a touch of class, don't hire one if your friends and family don't dance. It's a friggin' waste of money. Get a DJ instead. All wedding receptions should have music to dance to, but spending a fraction of what a band costs means you're much less disappointed if your guests just don't dance. That way, if they surprise you - awesome. The rare times we've played for non-dancing crowds, it was just LAME. And I remember thinking, "Oh, come on. These people didn't just suddenly grow inhibitions. These people are Amish!" (No offense to any dancing, Internet-surfing Amish out there.) As a wedding band, we're trained in the art of cheesy persuasion: "Hey, don't leave your bride and groom out here on the dancefloor all alone! Get up and dance with them!" So, imagine what it's like when no one answers to that? Over and over and over? (Because you've paid us to keep trying.) Band tip: If you just like live music (bless you!), that's cool. Just let the band know not to push too hard to get your leadfoot clan movin' and groovin'.
3. You should request some favorite songs from your hired band, but don't ask them to play really, really produced songs. What's produced, you ask? Think: certain Hip-Hop that requires the use of many samples and tons of background voices. Now, if you've hired a specialty band that's got the equipment to create those sounds, that's one thing. If you've hired a variety band, however, just trust me on this one. I've had to sing R. Kelly's "Ignition" and the song, "Milkshake," at a wedding before, and a guitar, bass, drum kit, saxophone, and keyboard do not in any way stand a chance of re-creating the magic, try as we may. And, if you see stuff on the band's songlist that seem to be in this vein, it's because they've found a way to play the song at least passably. Band tip: If you really have your heart set on a heavily produced song playing at your wedding, make that one of the songs that gets played at a band break on CD. (Bands have to take breaks.) Just ask them flat out during your planning call: "Will you guys sound good playing this one? Because I'm fine with a CD." Then you and the bridal party can work yourselves up into a frenzy, and before you know it, the band is back!
4. Choose a short but sweet song for your first dances, or make sure you've actually danced to the song prior to the wedding. This little oversight has stranded many a bride and groom, groom and mom, or dad and bride out on the dancefloor. Suddenly, they realize: Celine Dion songs are LONG! (Yeah, and schmaltzy thought they may be, they're hard to sing well, so if you haven't heard the singer in your band...) And, if you really like Nat King Cole's version of a song, or Allison Kraus' beautiful voice is what makes it so special: Don't be afraid to play the CD. You're not wasting the band. It's a special moment. It should sound exactly like you want it to. Band tip: Sometimes there are many recordings of the same song out there. If you decide you'd like the band to play a first dance song, tell the band which artist's version of the song you're attached to. ESPECIALLY if you're rehearsing dance steps to it. Nothing worse than realizing your band is playing the song at twice the speed you practiced it in your living room!
Friday, February 2, 2007
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Why waste this material?
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.
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.
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