Friday: turns out 48º and sideways rain aren’t the best conditions to get a big crowd to an outdoor gig.
You could argue, though, that’s to be expected when I play a gig at a Catholic church. Two years in a row. No lightning this time, at least. Or locusts.
That was some of the best onstage sound I’ve ever experienced.
Electricians: hire good ones.
Saturday: big kudos to Mister Mo’s and their hiring practices and uniform choices. I’m willing to overlook that little apostrophe problem.
Concession to age: no more gigs on successive days, at least if there are vocals on day 2. By the start of the second set, I sounded like the bastard love child of Bonnie Tyler and Froggy.
The Recliners recently invested in a PA for gigs at small places like that, which was good. I think next we need lights, though, because in that kind of place, the only stage light is the reflected glow of the TVs.
South side sport’s [sic] bars are truly the worst places on Earth to experience Noter [sic] Dame football. Gah.
I need one of you to unload the car, now, please, kthx.