Blue Öyster Cult vs The Fog

You guys asked for it!

It was the 1970s, when live gigs were rather unpredictable (as films like Gimme Shelter have demonstrated for those who weren't around then). My band The Fog, based on the US east coast, held down a circuit stretching from Washington DC to Florida, with the majority of our gigs in North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia. The band was together three years, and I played in the band the last two of those years. We eventually got enough respect that we occasionally got called to open shows for star bands, including the Allman Brothers, Edgar Winters White Trash and Uriah Heep, among the more memorable shows.

But undoubtedly the most unforgettable gig came about one weekend when we were booked to open for Blue Öyster Cult at Uncle Sam's in Winston Salem, NC, a medium-size venue for the time, holding around 2000. I was excited about the gig and the opportunity to meet lead guitarist Buck Dharma. Although BOC weren't huge yet (that came with 'Don't Fear The Reaper' in '76), Buck was one of my guitar heroes at the time; even Jimmy Page had been quoted saying Buck was his favourite guitar player.

BÖC had just released their 1974 Secret Treaties. The following year, a Melody Maker critics poll voted it the "Top Rock Album of All Time," and according to Wiki it spent 14 weeks in the US charts, peaking at #53. One song on the album was co-written by Patti Smith, who contributed to a number of BÖC tunes.

As we were in the green room preparing to go on, BÖC hadn't even showed up yet but that was normal as our set was planned to run 45 minutes.

Our set went OK, and when we trotted back to the green room Blue Öyster Cult was there. Buck Dharma was sitting down and warming up through a small practice amp, and when we came through the door he got up, came over to me and complimented our version of Dylan's ' Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You' (which we more or less borrowed straight from Jeff Beck's 'Orange' album), saying 'Your solo really hit the note'. It was the best compliment I'd ever received at that point (maybe ever, now that I think about it).

Before we had a chance to chat further, BÖC was out onstage. As agreed in the contracts for the night, they used the house PA and house guitar/bass amps, their own drum set, and our microphones.

I forget which song they opened with, but there was some serious rock attitude going on and they were all over the stage.

About halfway through their second or third song, lead singer Eric Bloom's microphone went silent. Enraged, Bloom swung the mic by the cable, Roger Daltrey-style, in circles until it smashed to bits on the stage floor. To me it was no big deal, all he had to do was reach for one of the other mics set up nearby (our band used four mics, BÖC only two on that show). Before he had a chance to do that, though, our hot-headed keyboard player came running out from backstage and grabbed Bloom in a headlock, because that mic happened to be his personal microphone (probably an expensive one, he was a gear freak).

The rest of BÖC was still playing, but at that point drummer Albert Brouchard put down his sticks, stood on his fibreglass bass drum, and flexing it like a trampoline, launched himself in a smooth arc through the air, landing atop both Bloom and our keyboardist.

Within 30 seconds everyone from both bands – except Buck Dharma and I – were going at it hammers and tongs, bouncing all over the stage, pushing over guitars, amps and cymbals and flinging them about. I stayed in the green room, and Buck slipped back there too. We watched as the bands tore up the stage set-up, both aghast and amused.

The club management had a couple of bouncers jump onstage and try to break up the fight, without much success, so they called for backup, and the Winston-Salem police soon arrived, whistles blowing and nightsticks in hand.

The music was over by that point, and the only entertainment left was that of the club managers and band members arguing about who started the fight and who was going to sue whom. Most of the punters who came for the show left, while Buck and I retreated to the green room, plugged our guitars in and jammed. So in the end I not only opened for BÖC, but closed for them, ahem.

Uncle Sam's sued us for damages, we sued BÖC, and BÖC sued both us and the club. BÖC lost, the club dropped charges against us and BÖC reimbursed the club for its losses.

We never figured out what was wrong with the mic but I reckon Bloom accidentally flipped the power switch off.  But I'd love to hear BOC's recollection of that evening.

 
~