When things go wrong.

We had a little bit of an “opportunity” Tuesday night: The thermal overload circuitry in our main mixer just decided to go on strike against the AC delivery system at Jose’s. What that means is that certain key parts—primarily vocals—would just completely disappear right in the middle of a song, usually when we were cookin’ the hardest. Musicus interruptus. After several attempted re-patching schemes, it became obvious we were just not going to get it back up and running dependably. Fortunately, Darren had along his little 150 watt PA head. Not enough to really carry the band, but better than no vocals at all.
So here we are. We know we are just not going to sound as good as we should. We know our audience has already faced several distracting interruptions. Our monitors are out. Kluging things together has been frenetic and traumatic. It’s turning into a bad night. Early in one’s career, this is where you cue the s**t fit. Stomp around, throw things, just make it perfectly clear that something's definitely not right. But after a few of these experiences, you learn that’s not the most productive line of action.
Best adapt to the situation. Keep the energy up. Have yourself a good time, doing the best you can. More often than not, the audience will move right in there with you. That’s what happened on Tuesday. It wasn’t the usual Big’uns, but it didn’t suck.
When we play an event gig, we usually hire a sound company. They carry backups of their backup. Even then things can go awry (like the time the computer-controlled electrical system in the building in which we were playing shut down at its normal time of ten o’clock, right in the middle of our first set). But when they do, we try to keep smiling.