So my friend Bill Copeland is putting together a new online music magazine, and has asked me to contribute an article. I can do that. I’ve been performing in one band or another, pretty much non-stop since 1964. I must be able to write something worth reading, no?

Nearly seven years ago I wrote an article, a large portion of which was dedicated to the undeniable downside of performing in ski areas, specifically après-ski events in base lodges. I was so thoroughly fed up by the time I read what I had written, I informed my agent, who is also my long time friend, that I would no longer accept ski area work. And I’ve stuck by that for all these years.

However with the recent economic downturn having a profound effect on the bar and band business, this year I asked him to bounce anything off me that became available. As he almost always does, he came through with a February Friday afternoon gig, school vacation week at Waterville Valley. Not great money considering the distance, and the ridiculously arduous load in, but it was early enough in the day that logistically I could do another gig later in the evening with the full band, if one should become available.

So I lost my mind for a minute…

I’m not a religious person but I do believe in a higher power that will always forewarn you of mistakes you’re about to make. You have to pay attention.

Now I’ve played Waterville Valley a number of times and there’s good and bad to be had there for working musicians. I’ve played there solo in the summer, in a nice little town gazebo, and truly enjoyed myself. I’ve played there with the full band and as a duo in Winter in a huge recreation center where an event was held for all the Waterville Valley staff, and simply had a blast. “Cheers for Peers” I believe it was called. I’m not quite sure why, but they haven’t asked us back for quite a few years. Maybe we pissed them off somehow. It’s entirely possible. Read on.

Those were the good WV gigs, now for the bad and the ugly:

They have two working bars which hire après-ski entertainment; one is called Buckets, the other is called T-Bars. I honestly can’t tell you the difference between the two and I’m not entirely sure that I’ve played both, but here’s what I do remember:

It’s an hour and a half drive that’s seems like three. The closest you can get your vehicle to the load in door is approximately 75 yards and you must carry your gear through the snow. Most of the clientele wear boots, so there’s really no need to shovel a walkway. Inside the door is a fire escape type stairwell, which is unheated and guaranteed to be slippery. Once you reach the top of the stairs, you set your stuff down to open the heavy iron door which can’t be propped open because it would make it cold inside. Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t skiers live for the cold?

Now as the door slams against your ass, you find that the area you’re slated to play in is all the way at the other end of the building, which now has you carrying your gear another 100 yards through a robust, boot clad crowd of skiers and their perfidious little brats, who will not get out of your way if you say excuse me a dozen times.

Once you’ve loaded in, you find the manager and introduce yourself and find that he or she like all the rest of the staff and the crowd couldn’t care less.

There’s a frenzy of greed and desperation that you only find amongst bar & restaurant staff in seasonal locations. They have 3 months to make a years worth of money, and if the weather doesn’t cooperate they could all be selling body parts to survive in the off season. It’s a palpable stress level, which you can feel during the Summer at Hampton Beach and during the Winter at ski areas. I’ve quite had my fill of both. So why you may ask, after all these years did I take another gig at a ski area? Simple: Greed. I play music for a living and if I don’t work I don’t eat. So I took the gig, but I have subsequently thought better of it and canceled.

Here’s what happened:

When I play out solo, I put out a tip jar. Some musicians don’t, but I do. It’s not important, but any amount of extra money can take the financial edge off the long drive, the long load in, the price of gas and the $9.00 assembly line shit burgers they sell at the base lodge.

So recently I got an email from the agent who booked the gig, stating that a new Waterville Valley policy does not permit musicians to put out tip jars. I’m not sure what the impetus of this seemingly arbitrary policy change is, but I felt compelled to write back to the agent expressing my displeasure. My bad, I hit “reply all” when I wrote my venomous return message not realizing that I was also responding to WV management, who wrote back an equally ugly response stating that any musicians who can’t abide by the high standards set by Waterville Valley hierarchy can “take their performance and their tip jar and play in a bus station or subway.”

I have to tell you I was highly insulted, but not at all surprised. I’m proud of what I do for work, and I have a lot of people that enjoy what I do. They tell me all the time, and it’s not unusual for someone to drop a couple of bucks in the tip jar. Particularly if they’re requesting a specific song they’d like to hear. One day when I was playing at the beach I played “Margaritaville” six times in a 24 hour period. There fucking well better be a little cash in the jar at the end of that day.

I can pretty much guarantee that not too many customers tell anyone at T-Bars that they’re doing a great job running the place, or that they’ve really enjoyed their meal, or what a warm hospitable environment they’ve provided for them and their families. Does T-Bars care? Nope! Not in the least. If you’re skiing at Waterville Valley and you find yourself hungry or thirsty, you’ve got two choices. Eat shit or go hungry.

I’ve opted to possibly go hungry, but with my self esteem unsullied.

Best of luck to Bill Copeland on his new venture. Hope to see you all back here regularly.