Once, during a bar gig, while playing bass for a Neil Young tribute band (keep yer f*^%ing comments to yerself, ya hear?) the band was inundated by requests from a table of knuckleheads. Only one song, not by NY...Stairway to Heaven. Sure we knew it, but we didn't have anyone with a Robert Plant voice, weren't inclined to do non-NY tunes, and as a rule weren't predisposed to prostituting ourselves to moronic drunken requests made loudly even after being politely turned aside. The bar management were disinclined to do anything about the behavior of their patrons, and in fact we knew they thought that was the band's job. During a break our singer, the "Neil Young" of the act, and a usually very diplomatic sort, approached the table and discretely informed the dissatisfied listeners that they were pissing off the bass player who'd been pretty well behaved since returning from prison. At the time I saw their uneasy glances my way but didn't know what it was about and wasn't told until days later. I guess I looked surly and unapproachable enough to make it believable. Anyway, the tactic worked, but could have been a disaster if it had backfired.

I play in a celtic band which used to take a zillion requests but now only does concert styled performances where the issue never comes up.

Very few of the request nightmares would exist if it wasn't for alcohol, but then neither would the pubs exist. Great trade, huh?

Peace, Mooh.