I Thought Music Bingo Would Be Stupid Too.

The first time I saw Music Bingo, I was sitting at the end of the bar at Scran & Dram in New Hamburg. It’s a Scottish Pub in a small-town strip mall, about 25 minutes west of Kitchener. Already the better part of an hour drive for me. Expectations weren’t high when I walked in the door, but that started to change pretty quickly.

The place was packed.

Before the game even started, Jeff was walking around handing out sheets and crayons. If somebody said they didn’t want to play, he’d leave a sheet anyway and say, “You’re going to hear it anyway, so you might as well have a sheet. If you play, that’s great. If you don’t, that’s okay too.”

I remember thinking that was probably a smart move. That most people were like me, not sure how long I was going to stay, and certainly not convinced that I wanted any part of this game.

Not because I thought music was stupid. Obviously. I’d been a musician my entire adult life. But “Music Bingo” sounded like one of those pub-night ideas that would be fun for about ten minutes and then slowly die in front of a half-interested room.

Oh, this isn’t music trivia

Basically, I expected trivia with songs. And I’ve never really loved trivia.

It can be fun, but it always felt a little guarded to me. Teams huddled up. People protecting answers. Everybody trying to win and, more importantly, not wanting other people to win.

So, when I walked into the Scran that night, I wasn’t there because I was excited to try a fun new pub game. I was there because I needed some gigs, I’d agreed to host my own game, and I wanted to see what I’d actually signed up for.

At first, I wasn’t even paying much attention to the game itself. I was mostly watching Jeff and trying to figure out what I’d have to do as a host.

Then, about ten songs in, something happened. The song kicked off with huge synth riffs, like you’re watching a sporting event or a spaceship launch. I knew it right away and I had it on my sheet so, I marked it off. It felt almost compulsive somehow.

A couple sitting down from me at the bar couldn’t place it. They were trying, but it just wasn’t happening. They would likely recognize it when the chorus came around but that was their problem…or so I thought. 

Just then, the people beside them leaned over and said, “It’s Europe. The Final Countdown.”

After the groans and laughs and high-fives subsided, I figured they would just go back to listening and playing along.

But I was wrong, they didn’t stop chatting. They talked about when the song came out. What they remembered about that time in their lives. Where they were when they first heard it. Soon they were laughing and playing along like they were long time friends out for some fun on a Thursday night.

I’d gone in expecting competition. Instead, I was watching strangers help each other and bond over music.

This game was getting my attention.

Driving home that night, I remember thinking maybe this wasn’t really about bingo at all.

The road to yes

To explain why I was sitting in that bar in the first place, I should back up a bit.

For most of my adult life, I was a musician. I had made music my living for over 25 years. I never really wanted to do anything else. I was happiest with a guitar in my hands.

Then COVID hit.

Like a lot of musicians, I suddenly found myself with a lot less work. When things finally opened back up, I worked hard for months to rebuild.

Then, around December of 2022, I hurt my shoulder and developed bursitis. I couldn’t play guitar. I could still sing a little, but not enough to make a living. I was basically sidelined.

While I was out of commission, one of my regular venues asked me if I’d host a new Music Bingo night that they were trying to start up. “You’d be perfect”, they said, “and we know you could use the gigs.”

“No thanks”, I said.

What I really wanted to say was, “Hell no! I’m a musician, not some goofy bingo game show host.”

A couple weeks later, they called back, it was a Tuesday afternoon. They still hadn’t found a host, and after two weeks of not working, I needed the money. So, I agreed.

“Great! Go out to New Hamburg on Thursday and check the game out. We start next Wednesday.”

Just a stop gap

At the time, I assumed the whole thing would be temporary and soon this music bingo fever dream would come to an end. The plan was to heal up, get back to playing guitar, and move on. Let the music bingo help keep things afloat for a bit.

Eventually, Wednesday night rolled around. I went into the bar I’ve played at a thousand times and, not gonna lie, I was nervous.

The two hours flew by. I was surprised how fun it was and how oddly familiar it felt.

It wasn’t the same as playing a gig, but there was something about being in the room while the music was happening, watching people react to it, hearing the conversations it started, seeing the way the night moved. And when the game ended, people left smiling.

Sure, there were winners, but that didn’t feel like the point.

The more games I hosted, the more I realized what I liked about it wasn’t really the game. It was whatever was happening around it.

I'd only said yes because I needed the money. This was supposed to be a stop gap, not a second act.

Looks like I was wrong about music bingo, again.