A long day, a long night. Wet on both counts, good on both counts. Heather and I got up late and got moving late. We drove out to Chapel Hill to have a work day with our computers and their internet before it was time to play, but we timed it poorly and ended up spending about 6 hours in a place called Sugarland Desserts. Though I was MOSTLY good I think I still ate way too much in the way of lemon bars and chocolate torte cakes. By the time we were sick of being there, the storms moved in, pinning us in place.
Most of you probably know that I kind of really, really, really LIKE rainstorms – so let it be known that this was a rather inordinate amount of rain and wind pummelling down from the sky to bring forth any kind of robbish distress. Drowned rat rob is never cute and we sure as Hell didn’t want to drag our gear through the downpour. We eventually spotted an opening and scampered to the car, landing guitars and mics and merch at the Blue Horn Lounge moments before the sky opened up again.
We were scheduled to play “whenever the game’s done” and so we sat watching the storm and watching the game, counting down between time-outs and commercials. Things got really tense when the storm knocked out the feed from the game, people spilled out into the streets from all the bars, looking to see if ANYONE was getting the game – but the transmission had been knocked out at the source. Sideways rain was lashing out at anyone foolish enough to make a break for their cars, the busses or anything but
indoorness and eventually Marshall (the owner of the Blue Horn) had to lock his front door to keep it from being violently whipped open by the wind.
Sure enough, the last thing that had been on the television before the feed was lost was a severe weather warning.
Presumably to avoid rioting, the storm-gods allowed transmission to resume before the game ended and we immediately leapt into action, attempting to keep the few remaining patrons. Fortunately, we weren’t alone in our endeavours… Marshall is an amazing supporter of Live music and is spectacularly supportive of us. He’d been working hard, talking us up, taking care to do little things like spell our name right, post our posters – things that should be taken for granted but that time and time again, venues don’t bother with. He’s arguably one of the most supportive venue owners we’ve ever met.
And so, with our combined efforts, Heather and I eventually played a 3ish hour show to a small but enthusiastic crowd. I felt great about it, but we had another stop to make, so at around 1.30am we forced our way from new-found friends and fans to go check out the Jack Sprat open mic.
Our friend Nick, who had actually run sound for us back in Concorde at the George Washington Bar and Grill had recognized us as we were walking down the street and invited us to HIS open mic. It ran till 2 so we figured we could squeeze in in time. Sure enough, we showed up just as the last artist was getting off the stage and powered our way through another set, securing ourselves a future booking and another couple of names for the mailing list.
An excellent night. My throat’s a little sore (which I was thinking was just vocal strain – a rarity for me – but a text message from a sick friend is making me fear – come ON I just got OVER this shit!!!) and my fingers are DEFINITELY sore, but it was a good good good first show of the tour.
Two nights out, have enough money to make it to the next town. Sounds good to me.
