Sunday

My AM church gig was going really well until we got to the big song with the choir and the band playing full blast.  We train wrecked it over and over again.  It was so bad, it was like the train wreck in Presumed Innocent (and I, afterwards, ran from the gig like Harrison Ford).  Every time we got to the refrain, what I was hearing and what I was seeing from the conductor would be at least an eighth note apart.  Bad, bad stuff, and it happened over and over again.  Verses were fine, refrains were embarrassing.

We got a standing ovation from the congregation.  It must've been an amazing mix by Matt!

I went home, switched out gear, and headed to a Yacht Rock gig in Smyrna.  Weird…it was a block/neighborhood party;  there was a stage under a tent in a cul-de-sac.  I'd be curious to have heard the proposal at the homeowner's meeting.  Anyway, it turned out to be a good event with perfect weather.  We played really well.  It was super fun.


A really funny dog named Jackson hung out by the front of the stage when he wasn't chasing tennis balls.



Mark Dannells' amp died, but he lived.


The cops showed up, but no arrests were made.



Takin' it to the Streets and Baker Street were both on the set list.  That was cool.

We finished right at sunset (after two encores).  Load out was quick, and I was home twenty minutes later.  Can't beat that!

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