REAL-LIFE CAREERS IN MUSIC!

REAL-LIFE CAREERS IN MUSIC!

DETROIT

Musician-slash-CREEM Man on the Ground Joe Casey (Protomartyr) ponders the archetypical musician-slash-bartender

Joe Casey

Is there any profession as mythic and, perversely, as ubiquitous as the musician-bartender? They are omnipresent enough that I'm sure nailed to the wall at CREEM HQ they have an AI-rendered photo of an übermusican-bartender circled in red ink with the note: “our target audience.” Order a Buttery Nipple, as you do, and nine times out of 10 the hand that served you has also twiddled a guitar pedal. Yet they’re mythic because of the lifestyle they engender—hedonistic, providing liquid happiness and oblivion, low-paying yet enabling freedom, facilitating dreams three steps from the gutter. Jobs this romantically hardscrabble are hard to come by nowadays. Everybody is looking for a “Rock Star in Marketing,” but who’s hiring the real deal? I’ll take a buzzed grump bartender in a band over your shitty Warrior Poets any day of the week.

So in celebration of the profession, I decided to see what made these essential workers tick by bothering them with an inane questionnaire. “You can really get to the soul of a person by making them fill out banal paperwork,” said some historical figure convicted of war crimes, probably. I guess I wanted to contrast hard data with the stereotypical images I had floating around in my mind like bubbles in beer. Were there new trends in the job? Who is the ideal patron, and can I emulate that for better service in the future? My guess was, universally, the customer who buys a beer and a shot, tips well, and then proceeds to shut the fuck up will forever reign supreme. The typical Detroit bar is not that different from any watering hole in a similar Rust Belt city, so feel free to apply my findings next time you find yourself, through no fault of your own, trapped in Cleveland.

The first to respond to the “Detroit Rock City Bartender/Band Member Census 2024” was Amado Movado, whose musical output is firmly in the “It’s punk, whaddya want from me?” universe. The place he works is one of those “entertainment complexes” and has one of the oldest bowling alleys in the U.S., so he’s definitely been in the trenches and seen it all. It’s old as dirt and sort of famous. Some say that the former pool hall portion, The Magic Stick, lent its name to the Lil’ Kim song. Jack White turned the Von Bondies guy’s face into hamburger meat there. It’s where the guy from Brian Jonestown Massacre broke his sitar in a fight with the audience (as seen in the documentary Dig!). Look, a lot of fights used to happen there. Out of all who responded, Amado has probably been a bartender and in bands the longest. I certainly remember ordering drinks from him back when I still had hopes for the future and a belief that life had meaning. So, a long time ago.

NAME: Amado Movado.

BAR: Garden Bowl & Majestic Theatre Center.

BAND NAMES: Norcos Y Horchata (lead vocals/ guitar), MACHO (bass).

FAVORITE TYPE OF CUSTOMER: The ones who have an idea of what they want or are open to suggestions. And, of course, tip accordingly.

WORST CUSTOMER: The “make it strong, light ice” types. I’ve been known to drop down and do a few push-ups before mixing a drink for them.

FAVORITE DRINK TO MAKE: In the summertime, nothing makes me happier than when I can whip someone up a Paloma.

LEAST FAVORITE DRINK TO MAKE: I sometimes imagine myself as Christopher Walken in The Dead Zone, with the inventor of the Green Tea drink as Martin Sheen.

BEST NIGHT ON THE JOB: Anytime I work a shift and someone from my past, be it old friend or coworker, stops by to see if I’m still around makes my night, no matter what the tip-out might be.

WORST NIGHT: Any of the “amateur hour” shifts—Thanksgiving Eve, New Year’s Eve, Tigers Opening Day, et cetera. Those are for the birds.

A SKILL THAT CROSSES OVER BETWEEN BARTENDER AND BEING IN A BAND: Definitely the ability to talk to people. Settling up, be it with a promoter or a patron with a tab. Thinking on your feet as well.

IF YOUR BAND WAS A DRINK, WHAT WOULD

IT BE? Norcos Y Horchata would be The Forever Disheveled—a shot of Fernet with a dash of gunpowder (or black pepper). MACHO are a charcoal-infused whiskey with dry ice and a black salt rim.

After Amado, the responses dried up. Bars declined. Was I wrong? Was the musician-bartender an outmoded archetype? Has the musician been replaced with the TikTok influencer? Or worse, the bartender with the loathsome mixologist? A few folks demurred—they weren’t really a bartender. It happened enough that I began to wonder whether it was a feeling of “stolen valor” (“I’m nothing special, I just pour drinks”), or were they worried their job was eclipsing their passion for music, the true center of their being?

Luckily for me (and my deadline), the staff at the Outer Limits Lounge came through. I put this down to two factors. First, it’s owned by musicians. That understanding makes the Outer Limits a perfect clubhouse for people who know music and like a drink. They have a record label to put out their staff’s music, either by design or familiarity. That helps infuse the labor portion of the bartender/musician

split with a sense of purpose. This makes Outer Limits a musical hub that happens to have a bar, as opposed to a bar that might put up with musicians performing. Universally, no band wants to play the latter. Secondly, and more important to me, the staff at Outer Limits just seem like a good hang. Like all the best bars, at first it can feel impenetrably cliquey until its own particular rhythms are figured out and you stumble out hours later as a newly baptized regular. We’ll start with Andrew Hecker, the bar manager, whose band Tin Foil deserves special attention as having a sound that is quintessentially what I would dub “Bartender Rock.” (Bartender Rock is often a bit loose, usually gesturing toward a party after a few too many drinks in. It’s usually great, and no matter what genre of music the band might be aiming for, there is always a satisfying amount of metal in it because, you know, it’s a lifestyle, man.)

NAME: Andrew Hecker.

BARS WORKED: Outer Limits Lounge, Kelly’s Bar, Lager House.

BANDS: Tin Foil, Yeji Boys.

YOUR ROLE IN THE BANDS: Bass and vocals.

YEARS AS A BARTENDER: Nine years?

FAVORITE CUSTOMERS: My old neighbor Tyrone. Metalheads, NA beer drinkers who tip well, and the same 10 people who are there every night.

WORST CUSTOMERS: My old neighbor JP.

Librarians, morons, and the same 10 people who are there every night.

FAVORITE DRINK TO MAKE: I once thought I invented the Paloma until I found out it was already a drink.

WORST DRINK: I hate Red Bull.

BEST NIGHT ON THE JOB: Every night.

WORST NIGHT ON THE JOB: Every night.

A SKILL THAT CROSSES OVER BETWEEN BARTENDER AND BEING IN A BAND: Whammy bars, guitarmonies, those little umbrellas, doing nothing for two hours after you get there. It’s all pretty much the same.

IF YOUR BAND WAS A DRINK, WHAT WOULD

IT BE? Forty beers.

NAME: Kelly Jean Caldwell.

BANDS: Wild Shape, Kelly Jean Caldwell Band, Wiccans.

YOUR ROLE IN THE BANDS: Vocals, guitar, and flute.

YEARS AS A BARTENDER: Six.

BEST CUSTOMERS: Other bartenders and funny people.

WORST CUSTOMERS: Creepy dudes.

FAVORITE DRINK TO MAKE: Margaritas.

WORST DRINK: Rolling Rock.

BEST NIGHT ON THE JOB: KISSMAS (a new holiday at Outer Limits where we celebrate everything about the rock band KISS).

WORST NIGHT ON THE JOB: New Year’s Eve.

A SKILL THAT CROSSES OVER BETWEEN BARTENDER AND BEING IN A BAND: Animal handling and religion.

IF YOUR BAND WAS A DRINK, WHAT WOULD

IT BE? One hundred IPAs.

NAME: Quennton Thornbury.

BARS WORKED: Outer Limits, UFO Factory, Lager House.

BANDS: Prude Boys, mainly. Quickdraw in the past. Ex Pest coming soon!

YOUR ROLE IN THE BANDS: Mostly guitar.

YEARS AS A BARTENDER: Nine.

BEST CUSTOMERS: Kind and aware.

WORST CUSTOMERS: Fussy and confused.

BEST DRINK: Beer and a shot.

WORST DRINK TO MAKE: Old Fashioned. I got a one-star Google review from someone once for making one so bad.

BEST NIGHT ON THE JOB: Any night that is just barflies, regulars, and close friends that turns into all of us partying until 6 a.m. and cracking each other up. Moneywise, Timmy Vulgar’s taco nights were always really ripping.

WORST NIGHT ON THE JOB: A goth night I normally loved working. This particular night, though, the soda gun basically blew up and starting blasting syrup and water everywhere. Someone had the audacity to get pissed that I was taking my time to fix that instead of serving them. Or really anytime I’ve had to kick someone out.

A SKILL THAT CROSSES OVER BETWEEN BARTENDER AND BEING IN A BAND: Finding your Zen in chaos and rolling with the punches.

IF YOUR BAND WAS A DRINK, WHAT WOULD

IT BE? Tequila and Red Bull followed up with a dirty gin martini.

NAME: Aleahia Thompson.

BARS: Outer Limits, Bumbo’s, Standby.

BANDS: Day Residue, Rough Patch.

YOUR ROLE IN THE BANDS: Bassist, screamer.

YEARS AS A BARTENDER: Nine years.

FAVORITE KINDOFCUSTOMER: A Chill one.

WORST CUSTOMERS: An asshole. A yapper. JP.

WORST DRINK TO MAKE: My least favorite is usually an egg white drink.

BEST NIGHT ON THE JOB: Service industry celebration.

WORST NIGHT ON THE JOB: Suburban bar crawl.

A SKILL THAT CROSSES OVER BETWEEN BARTENDER AND BEING IN A BAND: Being able to talk to strangers and having the energy and ability to constantly work with different people and personalities. Being able to stay up late helps too.

IF YOUR BAND WAS A DRINK, WHAT WOULD IT

BE? A highball. It’s versatile. It can fit a lot of different palates, but it’s also straightforward and probably what you should be drinking and ordering anyway.

So there you go. As in life, the maxim for being the best at drinking your life away in public is “Don’t be an asshole.” It's important to have that drummed into our heads every now and again. We are all shouldering up to the bar that is existence, desperately hoping God will stop talking to their stupid bandmates and serve us some grace. May I suggest pretending you like his band? It couldn’t hurt. Except for you, JP. You need to find another bar.