When I was 16, we were playing some roadhouse in the middle of nowhere, and on a break, that ubiquitous drunken know-it-all guy comes up to us and tells me and my teenage cohorts (backing up a veteran artist) how we’ve got a long way to go. He said to the drummer, “you’re OK” and the keyboardist, “you got your shit together” then told me I had a major attitude problem and was too loud. He pointed to the artist we were backing up and said “Your job is to make him happy. He’s the guy who is going to get you the whore you’re gonna to have, the pipe you want to buy, and the alcohol you need.” After many years of doing this, I never got that whore, I don’t wanna buy a pipe, and I don’t need alcohol. But still, it was pretty good advice.