Doctor Noize

Being a live performer prepares you to expect the unexpected. That being said, there are still things that happen for which you are unprepared. Case in point…

On Wednesday, I played this month’s Giving Back Showz at Cowell Elementary School in the heart of the great city of Denver. The kids there were absolutely fabulous, and I was psyched to be there. Their inner city public school budget doesn’t have the resources to hire out assemblies by performers like me, and the resources of the community’s parents are not such that they can pick up the slack in this school budget.

(A little behind the scenes explanation is in order here: As everyone knows, public schools are underfunded, and things like music assemblies are not exactly high on the list at many schools. So many of my elementary school assemblies are funded by the PTA or PTO rather than the school itself. At Cowell Elementary School in Denver — and many inner city schools — a vast majority of the kids are on the publicly funded meal program, meaning that most of the parents are quite poor. Funding a Doctor Noize show is probably not high on these parents’ “essential list,” thus their kids almost never get to see “enrichment activities” like assembly shows. So the monthly Giving Back Showz give me an opportunity to perform for a group of kids who don’t generally get to see me play.)

In any event, the kids rocked, the show was rocking, everything was going great, and during the second song I was running around out in the crowd singing and dancing “Banana” with the kids… when I felt a huge and sudden tear. So, while simultaneously singing and dancing, I surreptitiously glanced down at my lap to confirm my suspicions: there was a giant hole ripped in my jeans, about four inches wide, right in the front. So there I was, trying to bring a bit of musical inspiration and be a positive example to hundreds of low income kids, a grown man jumping up and down singing the word “banana” in front of a group of children with a giant hole in my crotch.

This was not exactly how I planned the show.

Strangely enough, nobody really seemed to notice. All the kids were bopping around, moving and singing, laughing, watching my crazy facial expressions. I made my way back onstage as several things popped in my head, not the least of which was this: I have a backup plan for if each piece of equipment breaks down, I have backup plans if my voice is shot from a cold, I have backup plans if a particular song is not going well, I have backup cables if a sound cable goes bad… but it has never crossed my mind to bring a backup pair of pants for showz. In all my 38 years, I can’t ever remember suddenly and inexplicably ripping a four inch hole in the crotch of my jeans while running, playing, dancing, or anything else. Yet here it happened, in the second song of the first of two sets to two audiences I was playing at the school that day. That’s 90 minutes more of standing in front of a group of kids with a giant hole in the front of my pants.

Anyway, I wore my guitar, my Ax (keytar), and every other instrument I could think of for as much of the show as possible that day, and things seemed to be all right. But from now on, maybe I’ll bring a backup pair of pants to showz.

The show must go on!