Show review: Worker Bee @ a warehouse in Oakland 3/7/08

"Say it aint so, Joe." Friday night at 10:30 I got the call. "Worker Bee's playing this warehouse party in Oakland. Hurry, I think they're gonna start soon." How do I love a Worker Bee show; let me count the ways. I'm there. So I bolted from my Inner Sunset sanctuary in San Francisco and rushed across the Bay Bridge in record time. I strolled into the festivities to the sight of kooks, everywhere: artsy people, stripe-attired hipster people, hairy, hairy flower children people, enthusiastic bohemian girl people salsa dancing with enthusiastic gay boy people; and a whole shitload of drunk people. Apparently this happening sprang from the Murmur celebration, the openings of Oakland art galleries on first Fridays of the month. And the band serenading my arrival wasn't Worker Bee, but a Latin-tinged gypsy band that seemed the true hodgepodge - both extremely diverse in age and nationality. After a bit of beer and lot of gawking, I sought the comfort of the great outdoors as my excitement built for the beloved San Jose foursome I came to see. The guys in the band, some drinking and otherwise just hanging out, seemed to be waiting for their set, too. And await we did. As I stood on 24th Street partaking in those fresh Oakland street smells, some performance art guy served up a reputedly mesmerizing set in the warehouse. And more time passed as a Heart cover band convinced most of the art party lushes that heaven was indeed adorned in spilled potato chip bowls, empty beer bottles and the holiest of holy hymns, "Barracuda." Turns out I showed up two hours early, with Worker Bee setting up around 1 a.m. By this time, most party-goers filed out front to cap the raucous Heartfest with a cigarette-soaked lungkillingfest. Worker Bee launched into their first song, sounded good, to a sparse frontage of faces in a room once overflowing with bodies. Weird, what happened next. Maybe it was bad juju, or a full moon clouding the night. During Worker Bee's second song, guitarist/vocalist Evan sounded, um, off, with other members smiling at him and signaling that he was in the wrong fret. At this point, they stopped and then restarted the song. Then some really tall drunk (high?) guy in the audience went all bull-in-China-shop and fell back-first into a glass table, unbroken but scarred. And the band played on, but then Evan's guitar cord frustratingly unplugged and he rushed to reconnect it. The show didn't go on for much longer. Soon Evan abruptly disconnected his guitar and walked into the bedroom next to the "stage" area where band equipment cases were housed. Thinking Evan was simply going to change his guitar, I waited, hearing the clicks of the guitar case latches from the next room. But out came Evan empty handed, continuing to put away his gear as other band members stood surprised. Show over. Flabbergasted, I tried to focus on anything but the awkward stage area. I've heard of shows ending prematurely because of riots or manic singer tantrums, but I've never personally been to concert that ended so suddenly. Despite the trek across the Bay and the long wait, I wasn't about to complain about a free show - but it was disappointing. I hate to see something overcome the spirit of a good band. There's a smidgen of selfishness in wanting to hear more songs from a band that clearly isn't enjoying the show. I never want fakery, though - better to burn out than fade away? No matter what the reason, it's disheartening to see people you have faith in give up. And I'm sure there's more to the story than what I saw from an audience perspective. Maybe it was just bad juju. Here's hoping for a smoother set next go 'round.