It's been a week since we got home from our one concert trip to Berlin (Germany) and I've been thinking a lot about it.
The trip was great. It was quite a long time since last time we packed into a van and travel for like 6 or 7 hours to reach a God's forgotten land. This time it wasn't really forgotten, since our first stop was in München, the city of beer. And, as you can see for yourself, Jesus was on our side, leading our way from the top of a pencil.
Unfortunately (or maybe not?) there was no concert booked there, so we spent the night around the city, eating, drinking, smelling each other's gas and, obviously, puking. So yes, here's the incontrevertible evidence... we're back on the road!
Except this, the night was quite "standard" and even short, since at 1 am we were already sleeping.
The next morning we had a good breakfast, watching an incomprehensible German stand-up comedian on TV, we packed our bag and sit back in the van for another 6 hours run.
At mid afternoon we reached Potsdam, that happens to be a tiny wonderful town not far from Berlin, the town that hosted our concert as the final show of the Potsdamer Jazzfest.
The venue was called Waschhaus, that means laundry, and it was a pretty good venue, with a beautiful stage, great lightings and all the stuff that seems to be normal in Germany but looks quite special for anyone who has to deal with Italian venues: buffet with foods and drinks, dinner, towels, dressing-room, hostel accommodation and so on.
Right after the soundcheck, a quick shower and a quicker dinner, we step on the stage and start playing our show. The sound was terrific, the lights were awesome and we were totally enjoying it. Then everything seemed to turn into what I would call a beautiful failure: we took a look off the stage and there was no crowd. Like ten or fifteen people were relaxing on some couches at the very bottom of the room, comfortably enjoying our sound but commiting us the most difficult task a band can ever have to do: playing a great show for a few people.
I don't know if we made it great but I guess we did good since we also sold some merch to that few listeners, who said to have really enjoyed the show, despite the huge hollow off the stage.
On our end, we had quite a good time, even if the condition were almost tragic. So this is it, you would say. Unfortunately this is not. Here it's were the hard part began, at least for me.
Far before the show, the promoter agreed with us for quite a good fee that would have bear our costs, and at the end of the show my only thought was: "How the hell can we ask for that money?". And I mean not literally asking for the money, but how can we took that money knowing that the guy is probably losing half of it. Yes guys, despite our metalhead habits, we have a heart.
The equation was quite easy actually, we did our show, we did our job so we have to get paid. The promoter probably didn't consider all the risk of hiring a not-very-popular band from Italy and that's part of his business. Yes, that's true, but I felt quite bad anyway.
How did it end? We took our fee, the guy lost his leverage and we couldn't even cover our expenses. So, isn't underground music a losing game?
