CHICKI'S - A Road Story

Launch week, day three!

Welcome to launch week, day three!

For launch week I’m posting everyday, Monday thru Friday.

Then on Saturday, for the New Moon, I’ll post a special bonus link where paid subscribers can stream or download an advance copy of my new single, “Fading Fast.”

After launch week you can expect a new post every week or ten days or so.

Offers Coming Over the Phone

On the eve of my first European tour in 1995, my managers filled me in on a request we’d received.

Something about Dumb and Dumber… a movie premiere… Austria…an opening gala… a press conference… and so on.

It all sounded good. No red flags. I agreed.

My song was featured in the movie Dumb and Dumber and it was the lead single from the soundtrack album climbing up the charts, so it was no surprise they wanted me for this event. Or was it events plural? I couldn’t be sure what I’d signed on for.

A Terrifying Drive

Fast forward a week or so and I’m dragging my jet lagged, sleep-deprived hangover down to the hotel lobby to meet my local label rep. We’ll call her Marie. She escorted me and my guitar to a very tiny car. As we were loading in she introduced me to a journalist we’ll call Paul. Paul wrote for what they told me was the Austrian equivalent of Teen Beat magazine. He’d be accompanying us on the two plus hour trip from Vienna to Graz.

Shortly after departing, Paul made an attempt at small talk. He asked me where I got my hat. I told him it was a gift from a friend, and in a thick Austrian accent—think Arnold Schwarzenegger—he replied, “It’s very ugly.” This left me speechless.

Before long we were on the highway. Marie seemed to be in a mad rush. Her driving style could be described as aggressive. Our pop can of a ride flew past huge trucks like they were standing still. When she came upon another vehicle in the fast lane she rode right up on their bumper. No two second rule for Marie.

Then it started to snow. My anxiety reached a fever pitch. Between the ages of sixteen and nineteen I’d been in four car accidents—two of them serious—so even in the best of circumstances I was a nervous passenger. I explained this to Marie and asked if she could slow down. I can’t be sure if she was being considerate or passive aggressive but soon those huge trucks were flying past us.

In attempt to avoid more small talk I told Marie and Paul I was going to try and get some shut eye. Somehow despite the cortisol rushing through my system I managed to doze off. Like I mentioned earlier I was sleep deprived. A couple of days before I’d set a personal record for staying awake: 42 hours. Not the wisest way to start off a demanding promo tour I admit, but I was a twenty-something rock musician living the dream. I must say it was fun. I even got a song out of the deal. Listen to it HERE.

Marie woke me as we arrived at our hotel in Graz. Just as I drug my sleepy face out of the car Paul started snapping pictures of me. “Let’s hold off on the photos, okay Paul?” He put his camera down and soon I was treated to some alone time in my day room to freshen up.

A Fast Food Chicken Restaurant?

First on the agenda, the press conference. Marie warned me that it would not be as well attended as they’d hoped. Most of the national press was busy with a global superstar. I think it was Janet Jackson, but don’t quote me.

Marie led me into a conference room where a few journalists were waiting. She introduced me to another label rep we’ll call Max. I took my seat in front of a microphone at the end of a table. Attached to the mic stand was a small wooden cut out in the shape of a chicken. I found this puzzling.

An unidentified man began speaking in Austrian. Max chimed in suggesting that they translate for me. “Please welcome American Recording artist Pete Droge. And welcome to the grand opening of Chicki’s, Graz’s new fast food chicken restaurant.” I looked to Max with disbelief. He shot me a compassionate look that said, “I’m so sorry,” and asked if I’d like something to drink before we get started. I asked for two double scotches on the rocks.

A typical interview followed. “You are from Seattle, but you do not play the grunge… WHY?” Stuff like that. I sipped my scotch and tried to answer questions I’d been asked a million times as if I’d never heard them before. Meanwhile, Paul stayed busy popping photos.

A Turd in the Punch Bowl

Next, Marie and Max escorted me to the first of my two performances. By this time I’m brimming with anger. The opening of a fast food chicken restaurant? My managers made no mention of this. And if they had, my answer would have been a resounding “Hell no!”

A chintzy stage faced a small town square lightly peppered with spectators. A local radio personality bantered back and forth jovially with a gigantic muscle-bound man—a famous big time wrestler it turned out. They were killing. The spotty audience lapped it up.

A local crew member asked me for my tape. I had no idea what he meant. He clarified, “Your backing music.” I explained that I would be performing live with an acoustic guitar. This really threw him for a loop.

My performance went over like a turd in a punch bowl. My lyric-driven acoustic singer-songwriter material did not survive the language gap very well. The sound on stage was terrible. I wanted the set to end the minute it began.

After my show they walked me into Chicki’s for a photo op. They had carefully arranged a tray with chicken, fries and a soft drink and asked me to sit down in a booth. I refused. This was where I drew the line. I did not get into the music business to peddle chicken.

Singing to a Mop Bucket

After another short respite in my day room it was time for my final engagement: the Dumb and Dumber movie premiere. I had imagined a big fancy event with limousines and red carpet. I had it all wrong. It was nothing more than a screening for winners of a local radio station call-in contest.

I asked if there was a dressing room where I could warm up my voice in private. They scrambled and found me a janitor’s closet. And so I found myself singing “mee may my moe moo” to a mop bucket filled with dirty water.

Sound check was not an option so I’d have to go on cold and hope for decent sound on stage. At least it could not possibly be worse than the sound at the Chicki’s gig. Or so I thought. Turns out it was much worse. There were no on-stage monitor speakers so all I could hear was the sound of the mains echoing and bouncing off the back wall of the huge movie theater. Mercifully, I only had to slog through a couple of songs and the set was over before I knew it.

A Nightcap Plus an Offer for Sex

Having fulfilled my obligations in Graz it was time to head back to Vienna. Terrified at the prospect of driving with Marie in her tiny car at night on the frozen roads of Austria I asked if it was possible to arrange for another vehicle. Max obliged and rented us a van.

The drive was uneventful and soon enough I was enjoying drinks in the bar of my Vienna hotel. Marie, Max and I were joined by a few local music business folks who seemed keen to meet me. One was so keen that at the end of the night when I said it was time to head back to my room they placed their hand gently on my leg and said, “When you say it’s time to head to your room do you mean alone?” While I appreciated the directness of the offer I was in a happy, committed relationship with the woman who would become my wife, so I declined.

One perk of a major label promo tour is they spring for really nice hotels. My room was one of the swankiest I’ve ever seen, a luxurious suite with two floors! Never has a bed felt so comfortable. I slept like a dead man.

The rest of the tour was uneventful. There were a lot more questions about why I don’t play the grunge and a lot more photo shoots. But thankfully no more fast food openings.

“Is Pete Okay?”

Later that year I would return to Europe with my band The Sinners in tow. At Holland’s legendary PinkPop festival my tour manager, Andy McCulla, bumped into the band Live’s tour manager. He asked how I was. We’d toured with Live and had become friendly and he seemed genuinely concerned about me.

Turns out that they’d recently been to Austria and heard rumors that I was in bad shape and totally out of control. Word was that I had demanded cocaine to do interviews. Andy assured him that I was fine and that this was a wild exaggeration.

The Pay Off

About a year later I received my international ASCAP royalty statement. One country stood out. I’d made a lot more money in Austria than anywhere else. I’ll never know why for sure, but I do have a theory. My best guess is that someone from the label felt bad about the whole Chicki’s incident and worked extra hard to get me radio play.

And in addition to the sizable royalty check, I also got this priceless story out of the deal. So I guess it was worth it after all.

Peace & Love Songs,

Pete

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