When The Road Hits Back
Anyone can hit the road. But what to do when the road hits back? Maybe it's true. We did kind of peak somewhere back there in Indiana followed by a slow digression into I-don't-know-what.
Somewhere along the line, might have been Cleveland to be exact. Cleveland. Yeah Cleveland. We had a lack luster gig up there.
People came out and all but I was plagued by enough bad sound to irritate me past the point of no return. And a general malaise welled up inside of me. You see, there's always more going on up there on stage than music. It can't all be boiled down into something tangible. Distilled into notes and cymbal crashes and monitor levels. I stomped the boxes. I turned up. I squeezed a little harder. A little harder still. But I couldn't choke the monkey.
It was was all over my face. Anyone could see I was there but I wasn't really there. We hunkered down and got through the gig. It hurts. People FEEL it but don't ARTICULATE it. Not out loud at least. Microphone stands might get knocked over, or drinks spilled...
Was it really the gig? It was more than the challenged sound, or was it? A sit down crowd. I couldn't see their faces. Tuesday night zombies.
Next day I took two pills and ate a tuna fish Sandwich and waited. I know this will pass. Meanwhile, I'm wedged in the back of the van between a bag of wrinkled shirts and dirty socks and one clean pair of undies in reserve. Somebody says something funny and I forget to laugh...
Dear god, would you mind coming down here with me for one minute? Have I lost something? Where can I find it? I know enough to know that life is about the maintenance. And for goodness sake, if you think about it, that's the pleasant part. So change those strings, take the vitamins and know that this too shall pass. And it does pass.
Lexington looked dreary on first look. But the waterman showed up. And those spread out around the parameter of the room with theirs backs to the walls soon crowded the stage. I took John Murrys advice. Pulled out the big guns; got silly with it. Broke things up. Threw out the set list. What was there to lose? I was ready and willing to "embrace the absurd and unexpected". And so we did. And so it passed.
You gotta buy ice cream for everybody and not let `em know; just have it backstage. You gotta break things up. Do something no one in the band will expect during the show. I'll work on that. I can come up with something. That's what it's all about really. Gotta John
Meanwhile, we're still awaiting the background check on one "Jimmy the Peach" Deprato AKA James Deprato.