July Newsletter

It happened - that much I can say for sure! On June 20th, we played our first show as a band since Covid knocked me off my feet for the latter half of 2022. We played on a beautiful evening at the Seattle Zoo, to a crowd of four thousand, I’m told. Andrew painted onstage, Mortis’s twin brother Leo danced in the crowd, and we played for almost two hours.

In the days after the show, I’ll come up often against the question of “how did it feel?” If I’m being honest, how it made me feel is exposed. I’m an introvert by nature; I take most pleasure dwelling in that part of the brain that stands aloof from reality, taking in bits and pieces and playing with them. That’s why I love writing music so much - it’s a lot of brain-work that produces tangible results in the real world. Performing, as a line of work, is less about creative thinking and more about continual problem-solving. You’re hustled about from one point to the next, under inauspicious conditions, following a shaky chain of communication, and the chief thought of the day is “Is this about to go south? Is this going south right now?” We've been a self-led unit through many years of touring, and this has led to a lot of mental scars in dealing with headache-inducing scenarios before, during, and after a show. I’m working on letting go of this particularly stressful mode of DIY (a dedicated tour manager on future runs will help), but even limiting my role to making the music, a lot of things are guaranteed go differently from all plans, and making sure the show continues on requires a level of vigilance reminiscent of driving at fast speeds along curvy mountain roads. While singing along to the radio at the top of my lungs.

And amidst all that, it is a joy to be onstage, playing for people who wear their love on their sleeves, and are so clearly exactly where they want to be. This is why it’s so complicated to respond to questions of “how was it?” It looks like I was having fun, because I was! But sometimes it’s like playing in a sandbox after you’ve walked through broken glass to get there. It still hurts afterwards. 

I suppose I write this just to be open about my experiences. I will continue to do shows, as my health allows (which means ‘slowly’, as I definitely took a physical hit in the wake of this show). I take a lot of pleasure in small shows and impromptu performances, and to keep them feeling "small" and comfortable, sweating through the big ones are an inevitable part of my job.

Meanwhile, the summer rolls on. Happy July!