Our horn section for the evening was Paul Poovey on trumpet and Tom Gibson on trombone. Both played very well. Also playing well on the gig was The Great Bencuya, whose fantastic chops shown through in my in-ear mix--probably because it wasn't clouded with my own attempted keyboarding. The entire second set was one of those times I wish I could've just watched over his shoulder. It was particularly awesome.
Not particularly awesome was my sax solo on Oh Darling! The first part was fine, but I remember thinking How does this end? right before I screwed up the end.
Post show hijinks at Monkeyboy's expense (hiding a guitar case) and then at my own (with my bari sax going missing for several minutes, thanks to Kip). All in good fun.
What was not fun...the next morning, I woke up knowing that I was going to barf--from my first second of consciousness, I could feel it. It arrived (multiple times) about a half hour later. I thought that throwing up had solved whatever was bothering my stomach, but after showering, there was an encore (multiple encores). I spent the rest of the day in bed, actually glad that I had no gig on a Saturday night. No drinking or anything the night before...it was some kind of one day stomach virus that tried to kill me. The fever finally broke after midnight. Miserable.
