My Day With The Rolling Stones
Ok, it’s not a movie review but I thought I’d share my “special day” with you since I don’t have a diary type of blog.
After renting Zaphod Beeblebrox for two days (apparently the club was dingy, but not dingy enough so they had to do some decorating) Monday rolled around and I excitedly drove down for my day with the greatest rock and roll band that’s still alive.
The security on this video production rivals anything I’ve ever seen in downtown Ottawa. The only thing missing were snipers on the rooftops. All night I had dreams of getting that prized photo of me and Mick hamming it up behind the bar.
“I’ll mail the 8×10 to his manager so that I can get it autographed, and I’ll hang it in the living room.” I kept telling people.
Unfortunately when I got to the club I was given my instructions. “No cameras, no cell phones with cameras, no talking to the band unless they talk to you, and no talking at all when on set.”
So, do you still want to be in a Stones’ video?
After I had arrived I was given the stamp that said I was crew.
“Perfect” I thought to myself. “I don’t have to stand around for 8 hours so that I can be seen in a video for a millisecond that will be shown on MuchMusic for a week before gathering dust next to Biz Markee. I’ll just hang around behind the scenes and watch the fun, ducking out for a breather when it gets boring.”
Here’s the problem. You’re not “really” crew. You’re “really” just some annoying person who managed to get put on the guest list as a perk so that the video could be shot. There were tons of us. There were the girls from the city of Ottawa who zoned the application, there were the cops who got to wander around and tell people to step away from the barricades, there was the catering guy. etc. etc.
None of the aforementioned lucky crew members were important enough to get inside the club. If you’re not some guy snaking audio cable past the pillar, then they don’t want you inside the club. That means that you get to see Mick Jagger from 30 feet away as he saunters into his trailer, instead of 50 feet away like the other losers behind the barricades.
If you want to be inside where the action is, you’d better be an “extra.”
Remember when you were a kid in the schoolyard and you were the last to be picked for a sport’s team? You thought that horrible emotional wound had scabbed over right? Well, prepare for the band-aid of humiliation to rip that long buried traumatic experience right back into the daylight where it belongs.
The first thing that happens when you show up is that you’re separated into 3 groups. Featured extras, who get paid the most and have been deemed cool enough to have the camera linger on them long enough so that their friends can recognize them. They might be doing something, like getting into a fight or high-fiving Keith as he strums the last chord on his guitar.
Secondary extras, get paid a little less but are still in the range of being focused on. They might pour a drink for a “Featured extra” in the video. The bottom of the “extras barrel” are the unpaid shmos. You’ve been drafted into the army and are nothing but human chafe. Is there an exit sign that needs to be blocked? Put the fat guy in front of that. We need to hide some cables. Make those two losers stand over there. Imagine the ego crushing as the wardrobe person comes in and deems your shirt too ugly so she gives you a polyester replacement with birds on it. Then you get to go stand in a corner and hoist a glass in the air. Maybe your mom will recognize your wrist when the video comes out.
I’m not done with the ego crushing yet. Now we’ve reached what we jokingly called the “loser-corns.” Everyone has been approved by wardrobe and told what corner they’re to stand in, except for the 6 people left next door with the stale cookies. My friend makes an “L” sign on his forehead and stamps his foot while making horse noises. “What? I’m not even cool enough to be the non-descript shadow in the back?”
When I realized that I was going to be shut out of the proceedings as a mere “crew” member, I begged to be added to the extra’s list. After a quick signing of the release form and a stamp on my arm I was now all set to get my spot beside cable number 4 in the back of the bar. The only problem was that now everyone was inside and they didn’t need any more eager non descript cable blockers.
My heart sank. I’d been standing around for 5 hours and because I was stupid in the beginning, I wasn’t going to get to see the video shoot. When the accountant of the bar tried to get his wife and child in (keep in mind that he negotiated the deal) the Stones’ team pounced on him immediately. They were in the bar for about 20 seconds before they were ushered out.
“This does NOT look good,” I thought “If he can’t get his wife and kid in, then I’m dead meat.”
This is when I started probing the Stones’ security for lapses. At first I casually walked over to the doorman to chat with him (since I work with him on Friday nights). It only took a few seconds before someone with a thick British accent said “Oi, ew are you then mate?”
A quick flash of my extra stamp and the explanation seemed to calm him down a bit.
Next up, I casually step inside the door and start to tidy up by throwing away the garbage and empty water bottles at the front desk. I flip through the book I had brought and was in the front drawer.
Ok… no one is freaking out.
La la la… I slowly step inside and immediately a crew member snaking some cable around looks up at me.
BUSTED!!
Oh wait. He puts his head back down and continues working.
Peeeeeeerfect.
I slowly walk in and all eyes are on the Stones who are doing an impromptu version of the song “Going to a Go Go” just to cut the tedium. Amidst the cheers I sneak over to the side where my manager sits clutching her radio.
The director is ready to film again and he screams direction to the crowd.
“Oi, this is the part where you’re loving the song!! Everyone jump. Pump your fists in the air.”
I don’t know if it’s because Mick is a senior citizen now, but the volume of the song is actually quite soft. It’s certainly not at the volume that you’d expect to hear a band at in a club. The drums aren’t mic’d and you can actually hear the acoustic guitar from the stage. I guess the director wants to make sure that you can hear him and bleeding ears would be a problem.
Suddenly, the crowd parts and the lads leave the stage for a 15 minute break. As they walk past me I’m kind of dumbstruck. They’re all about my height (some a bit taller, some a bit shorter) and all of them are rail thin. I don’t think any of them weigh more than 140 lbs. This will repeat a few times as the film needs changing or when some cable needs to be re-snaked. The band will stroll by me on their way out and again on their way back in. Of course that little sick voice in your head says “I could just reach over and punch Keith Richard’s in the head if I wanted to.”
Fortunately, I don’t listen to the voices in my head. If I did, there would have been a lot of times when I would be suddenly standing around without any pants on.
In comes the band again.
Charlie Watts always looks at the floor as he walks by. Ron Wood has eyes up and a slight smirk. Keith Richards slurs “Keep up the good work” as he walks by and we all laugh. Mick is always late. He gets escorted in separately and usually 3 or 4 minutes after the other lads are in. Maybe he needs more makeup, or maybe he’s just sending a “message” to everyone around. Don’t forget who the real star is kids!!
It’s now 9:15 and I’m torn. On one hand I’ve heard the new single about 5 times now, and I didn’t even like it the first time I heard it. On the other hand, I’m in a freaking bar with the Rolling Stones and they might walk by me for a 6th time!! I decide that the novelty is starting to wear off, and now my plan has actually paid off. Since I’m not in the video, I can come and go. I don’t have to stand in the exact same spot thrusting my fist into the air as a song that probably won’t get any air play anyway wafts over the heads of the sweaty and tired extras.
As I’m leaving one of the 2nd level extras wonders why I’m leaving, and wants to know what I’ll do to myself if the band hangs around afterwards for a party and signs autographs. I find myself hesitating and then I remember that there are 100 extras milling around in there, that the band have the combined age of The United State’s bicentennial and that the video won’t be finished until the wee hours of the morning (in other words, when the Stones have left). All of those featured extras get to shoot their scenes when the band has gone to bed. I decide to go home.
Just as I’m about to leave Leo (the doorman I know) is getting raked over the coals by a police officer. It seems that Mick Jagger’s manager has been noticing a lot of people inside with stamps that shouldn’t be there (ohhh…like ME for instance) and everyone is getting shat upon. Just as he is trying to defend himself the crew member in charge of stamping the extras walks in and tries to sneak her friend in. When the doorman asks where this guy’s stamp is, she whips out her stamper and gives some ink to her buddy.
BAD IDEA.
Mick’s manager sees this and loses his mind. The stamper girl knows that she’s probably just lost her job and tries to apologize before her friend ducks his head and runs away.
This is more entertaining than the video shoot, but it’s getting late and I walk off into the night.
Rock and roll baby. Rock and roll.
