Man, we were good tonight.
We played the Pearl Street in Northampton, Mass.; it was hot and sweaty; people were dancing. We were KILLING IT.
I love Northampton and everything, but the Pearl Street is a wretched-sounding room. Handsome Dan told me he couldn’t hear me at all; Scrap told me he had to watch my lips to figure out where the cues were. The sad part to me is that the Iron Horse, just a couple blocks away, and run by the same dudes, is one of my favorite East Coast venues. But–so it goes.
Cee-Huck hooked up these in-ear monitor things for me; little earplug/headphones that are made from foam injected into your ears. You have a little battery pack/transmitter on your belt, and the wire runs down your back beneath your shirt. It takes a little getting used to; initially one feels really cut off from the world. But I’ve had a few shows, and figured out the correct mix and balance, and generally gotten used to them, so I’m quite happy. You can hear EVERYTHING, clear as a bell.
I walk up to Scrap after the show and say, “My friend, I can tell you for certain that I was THE ONLY DUDE in the entire venue, onstage and off, that could tell how awesome everybody sounded tonight.”