>Spoken Truths

>I was so excited.

We booked our first big opening gig with a band that has been around for YEARS pleasing the masses with their music and building an impressive fanbase. There were gonna be so many people there and we were going to get to hang out with a band that has been through the opening act stages and been on tour and done everything that we dream of doing. We had been excited for weeks.

The band's name is Spoken, a staple in Christian Hardcore since the 90's, and we were opening for them.

Load in time was 5 o'clock, so we showed up at 4:45 because the last thing we wanted was to be in the way. We simply couldn't wait, because we wanted to pick these guy's brains and to just figure them out and find out what could be in store for us down the road. Well Spoken didn't show up until 6:45, just 15 minutes before the doors opened. I figure hey, they're busy, that's totally excusable. So Slow Cars.Slower Jets goes out to meet them in the parking lot and help them unload and take stuff in, like every opening act does for every headlining act all over the country. (For those that don't know, opening acts are just glorified roadies. We are responsible for warming the crowd up for the headliners and making their experience as smooth as possible)

I walk up to the band members outside their trailer and I say "hey guys what can I help you bring in?"

Spoken band member one: "Yeah, bro I'd rather you not touch our stuff."


OK. I'll let that fly too. I mean I know how to handle musical equipment... I'm not gonna throw it down stairs or anything but I can respect wanting to handle your own stuff. That way you're completely responsible for your own stuff and you can ensure it doesn't get broken yadda yadda yadda.

Spoken is nowhere to be seen for the first act. Let me reiterate that there is nowhere to go at the Warehouse. It's a room with a stage. (one of the sweetest venues ever, though) So we get ready to go onstage, moving Decking Caesar's stuff offstage and getting our stuff onstage and I see Spoken Guitarist behind their huge wall of gear with a label "Do Not Touch" tuning his instruments. I reach my hand out and say "Hey man I just wanted to know I saw you guys last year with Family Force 5 and Falling Up and wanted to tell you you straight up killed it."

he replies: "Oh yeah, we played with Family Force 5, yeah."

"Haha yeah and also your lead singer was sick or something so a backup singer had to sing, and I just wanted to tell you to tell him he was amazing. We were so blown away."

"Ok will do."

And that was the extent of our conversation. What a nice man. I got onstage slightly defeated and feeling somewhat like the bottom of your shoe after a rainstorm.

Then I had the saga of keeping my guitar in tune, and the saga of the acoustic matt was using working and not working and the whole there were 7 people there and ahh..

overall a somewhat disappointing night. Saturday will be better I think.

Hamilton Barber

The subject of this page is an introverted writer/musician/lunatic from Chattanooga, TN who dabbles in lexical dexterity, unorthodox thoughts on prosperity, and being overwhelmingly undeserving of the privilege of waking up every day. He hopes that everybody who reads these words takes them to heart and leaps higher than he ever could. He reads, thinks, and speaks too much; he listens, works, and loves too little; and he says “I” entirely too often. The words on these pages are not his: they are the words that were given to him.