No matter what show I design, I always strive for one aspect — to make my show look theatrical. It doesn’t matter if I am illuminating the unveiling of a new automobile, or an opera; I want dramatic lighting. The biggest problem I endure at most events is actually the venue itself. The place where you are holding your show can make for a pleasant experience or a long, slow day.
Pluses and Minuses
I sometimes think venues go out of their way to show their lack of professionalism. I also believe that certain venues need to either be torn down or just used for the sole purpose for which they were built. So this summer, as I tour through the vast American landscape of amphitheaters (called the shed circuit to concert touring professionals), I am jotting down pluses and minuses of these grand concrete slabs. Some gigs are really good. Some are designed perfectly, as if the architects actually had a clue how 15 trucks of gear need to load in and out in a single 18-hour day.
There is a lovely wooden shed in Cuyahoga Falls, OH called the Blossom Music Center. I believe this building was designed for the local symphony. That’s nice, but can the greedy mega promoters who book whole tours stop insisting we bring our big show into this venue? Basically, you can fit a lot of stuff in here, but you have to work around these silly wooden sidewalls. They separate and open up to give you more accessible ways to fly a 60-foot-wide truss. But then they do the Unthinkable. So the stage gets totally black by 8 p.m., except there is bright sunlight coming in through the open sidewalls. Headlights shine on dark walls backstage during the performance because the venue isn’t professional enough to mask the light on the loading dock.
White Fabric, Black Drapes
Other venues actually care about the act and theater — even if the design of their venue is a tad outdated. Sometime in the 1980s, people came up with the concept of building big stages and covering them with a big white tent. This does protect the stage from rain, etc.; but it also allows all the sunlight right through the translucent roof.
What I love about the Shoreline venue in San Jose is that they have black drapes that they insist on closing before the event, masking any unwanted light from hitting the stage. These guys care about your show.
Of course, the big problem is that this venue was built in the 1980s and they have endured growing pains. The stage is not deep, the roof not tall. But the real problem is with the layout — I have been playing there 30 years, and I have never seen my band from the front of house mix position. The seats here are on a good rake, looking down at what appears to be a three-foot stage. My front of house area is flat. I will never see the stage over the audience when they stand.
This venue has so much character you can’t hate it. But would I love to see the Bay Area knock this place down and rebuild it for this century? Sure. Just keep the same great local crew intact.
The least popular shed in America for me is the Sandstone Amphitheater in Kansas City. Thank goodness most of the bands I work with ignore this gig like the plague. It has a low roof, and all rigging has to be done by guys hanging on scaffolding. It is a long, slow day on a concrete slab.
And speaking of Missouri, they still need to replace the stage deck in that shed in St Louis. It’s warped, and I have gone in there and had set carts actually break through decks. I’ve even had to put plywood down to protect my own gear from falling through that crap stage during set change. Fix it for once.
Feeling the Heat
Love the shed in Hartford, CT. It can actually close the back and separate the lawn. This protects the inside of the venue from the
elements. Hey, Desert Sky Pavilion in Phoenix, why don’t you follow their lead? Put some air walls in. Cool the place down every night and open the lawn up right before the public walks in. For a Minnesota guy, it’s like gigging in insufferable Hades when I work there.
There are other things that cast a bad name on an otherwise lovely venue. I have been playing this shed in Scranton, PA. For years. Nice place, with a good loading dock, large stage, nice location. But way too few restrooms backstage for 200 people on one tour. There’s only one important thing at the end of load out. I’m talking about hot water for the showers. Years ago, it wasn’t uncommon to run out of hot water after the band and a bus of guys had showered. We don’t have that option in Scranton. They have no cold water. If you hopped in a shower there this summer, you probably hopped out faster than any cold shower, and had third degree burns.
I think every band has a clause in their contracts that specifies the band will not take the stage under any hazardous conditions. Small time promoters may erect some dodgy stages with questionable rigging points and a total lack of protection from the elements. But don’t kid yourselves. These big corporate promoters aren’t always any better. You would be amazed at how many concrete slab stages have popped up in this country with design flaws. This summer I went to Charlotte to play a set with one of my bands. It was a big festival show, and we arrived early so I could program the local light rig and get away until show time. The festival organizers built two big concrete slabs and put a roof some 40 to 50 feet in the air over the stages. They had absolutely no side or rear fabrics wrapping the stage to protect the band and their gear from the elements. And boy, did it pour rain all day.
Outside of the beer tent, there was no protection from the rain. Thousands of kids just stood there in the mud for 10 hours. One of the bands had brought lighting fixtures in that morning. By 3 p.m., those fixtures were water logged and back in the truck. Finally, around 8 p.m., both bands cited the flood of water on the stage and declined to play. Some promoters sought to save some money and skirt the safety issues. Insurance may cover weather elements, but I wonder if it covers stupidity. I was more upset that the fans who stayed there all day got nothing for their effort.
I like old stadiums. Places like Fenway and Wrigley are weathered buildings that, in my opinion, should be torn down — but built back with much of their original splendor, like they did at Yankee stadium. I personally applauded the destruction of the old Gibson amphitheater in LA, as it was too small, and I never thought it had any character. On the flip side, I will miss The Irvine Meadows Amphitheater in Southern California. They are tearing this nice big gig down to build condos. The good die young.
