Saturday evening was one of those nights where delays were the order of business. We thought we’d be loading in over at the Terminal Bar around 7:00, turned out to be 8:00 and we got there right on time to find a nearly empty venue and no sound guy. That was fine, we loaded in all our gear (having all convened at my place around 6:00 to pack Dave’s truck and my car with stuff) and then, being the first band up, we set everything up on the Terminal Bar’s little carpeted filthy stage.

It was my first time at the Terminal Bar but it was the sort of place that is almost the consummate example of what it is, a dive bar, so much like so many other nearly identical bars throughout the Midwest. It is a place to drink beer and eat pickled eggs and watch your favorite baseball team lose while you wonder where the sound guy is and maybe play a little Foosball. I didn’t play Foosball, although I wanted to, and the Twins had already lost by the time I arrived so I was rooting against the White Sox instead, but other than that it was just exactly right.

By the time 10:00 rolled around and there was still no sound guy we were starting to worry. There were a bunch of people milling about and our instruments were waiting faithfully for us up on the stage but we had to wonder if there would actually be a show. Shortly after ten we got our answer when a rather harried looking young man showed up and started connecting up the various and sundry arcana that make up the traditional dive bar sound system to the dulcet tones of The Beastie Boys and Pink Floyd. I liked the waiting. It gave me time to calm down a bit, have a beer or two, nurse the brief hope that I would get to go home without getting on stage.

Eventually, we got up there, Josh, Laura, Dave and myself, and we started doing our thing. I began the set by singing Paper Doll (the 1942 hit by The Mills Brothers) as the intro to James and Donna Dancing in place of the usual Swing Low Sweet Chariot. This was a little surprise for my lovely wife in honor if our anniversary which has just transpired 48 hours earlier. She loves that song.

The first song got exactly the kind of warm, enthusiastic crowd response that makes a fella want to play the next one and it just kept up that way as we went through the songs.  From where I stood, it seemed we had everybody’s attention and appreciation, and, for better or for worse, we sounded the way I hoped we would sound (I consider that a good thing, but obviously I’m a biased judge).  High points of the set for me: Laura’s trumpet solo on Hue and Cry, Dave’s drumming on Digital Plastic Moon Beings, Josh’s vocal on 14, and getting to play an actual guitar solo (something I almost never do) on Molotovs. 

At the end of our set more than one person asked us to keep playing and when we regretfully informed them that we had no more material prepared, there was at least one call for Freebird.  That’s a good night by my lights. 

We broke down our gear to make room for Ben, Andy and Sam (substars) and when that was done I got into the mingling and listening section of the night.  I loved substar’s set, not surprisingly, because I’ve been a fan of their music for the last couple of years.  They really brought it on Saturday night and it seemed the crowd was into it too, although unfortunately it had thinned out a little bit.  By the time Flink got up and played, the crowd had thinned substantially and the sound guy set them up and then left as well, meaning they did their whole set without him.  It was fine though, they rocked and by the time the drummer broke his drum head and brought their set to a screeching halt, I think all of us who remained in the crowd felt like we had had a great night. 

Es and I got home around 3:00 in the morning, exhausted but exhilirated and looking forward to the next gig which will hopefully be sometime in November.  I’ll keep ya posted…

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