That’s right, friends, neighbors, and countrypeople. Outdoor temperatures this evening evening at the Brush are predicted to be below what is enjoyable for attempting to manipulate small metal cables over slats of stainless steel stuck into ebony. With one hand. While waving the other hand around in chilly thin air.
I am not yet ready to return to playing indoors. Firstly, because our local Covid stats are not at all comforting, though apparently we have been almost completely distracted by news of wars and the shenanigans of moronic narcissists seeking to escape their prison-worthy fates.
Secondly, playing indoors is an aesthetic crap shoot, for the performer and audience alike. Any bar music environment hangs on a balance between listeners and talkers. With no practical way to segregate the two camps the experience is mainly suboptimal.
If I played only what you can hear from a list of hits the story might be different. Lyrics for unfamiliar material are not embedded in our collective subconscious. When everybody knows the song nobody has to listen to it.
I guess that’s what has happened with the Covid story.
May you enjoy health, peace, comfort, and satisfaction. To see you eventually is my intention. I sincerely appreciate your support for the musical racket I bring to the courtyard.
Onward, through the Fog!