I played Silvie's Lounge tonight, good crowd... quiet and attentive. The kind of crowd that meets you head on. It helped that a third of them were musicians.
To be honest, I had gone the good majority of my entire life without wearing triacetate and nylon together and I pick the most humid night of the year when I'm going to be standing under stage lights to (suddenly and surprisingly) break from that tradition. So epic fail in the wardrobe department on my part, but this is what happens when I'm allowed to dress myself. I did also discover that I can't finish up a twenty mile bike ride just two hours before a gig starts. The very idea to me is now reminiscent of a Ponce de Leon expedition.
So (as I was saying) my skin is just radiating heat... oozing. I contend that very few of you can understand or appreciate the way triacetate and nylon feel against sunburned skin... under stage lights. What could I have possibly done? That shirt had sat in my closet gathering dust for four years before making it's way onto the stage tonight. It wasn't to be resisted, after all it was the first time I can recall fitting into the shirt (as intended)... and if not for the heat, a fedora. Damn, this humidity.
One day off and then I'm back at The Abbey Pub. Good sound system (very loud).
I always find it a little surreal, the idea of playing to a room. It's a very strange and wondrous sort of give and take that one has with their audience... even if it's just two people (which it has been on occasion) and sometimes those shows are your best ones. Those are the no pressure gigs. The kind where you can say a few things that you otherwise wouldn't. Interestingly my crowds seem to be about 99% non-republican now... not surprisingly.
...and about the shirt, the shirt looked good.
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