Warm rain stammers in through a warehouse window held taut by a rusted chain. Golden light pours through as well.
I went out to the coffeeshop. ”Don’t Cry No Tears” plays overhead.
I wanted to write about the release show that we played last Friday, because I said it on that day how important it was going to be, and it bothers me how quickly even momentous things seem to fade.
Before the show started, Melissa Brain and I were driving all of the equipment down from north Philly, when we heard Hop Along playing on WKDU. I felt all of a sudden like the whole city was on my side.
We got out and I went to give her the keys and dropped a favorite knick-knack into a sewer grate.
We gave Marky some belated birthday presents (booze and shoes), and unloaded the van in a slow train, down the narrow steps into the Church’s basement.
Tyler was freaked out by how calm I seemed, because I’m never like that, especially on show days.
My voice was a little hoarse from the long practice we’d had the night before, so Peter and I went to a very small Thai restaurant around the corner with a smiling older woman behind the counter, and I ordered a spicy lemongrass soup. Peter ordered a curry dish and insisted on getting more hot sauce, even though the lady warned him the dish was already quite hot. He was panting when he finished it back at the venue.
It rained so hard during the show that the kitchen in the First Unitarian Church flooded. Twice.
Everyone played beautifully. Little Big League brought on a really exciting start, lots of amazing energy, and a great big sound. Then people crowded forward to hear the subtle lovely notes Mary played on her harp in the 2nd set. Band Name brought out a new jam that blew me away. It makes me so happy to my friends evolve and get better and better.
When we went on I looked to the back of the room and saw my oldest brother watching us. My Mother sat right up on the stage. We were surrounded by friends and family, and people who came through the pouring rain to stay up and watch us all play. Everything that I’d overthought and assumed about that night fell away, and I found myself, for the first time in months and months, existing purely in the moment.
Thank you for that.