When you’re big in the music business, you have a whole entourage to handle your every need. There are light people and sound people and a manager and roadies to take care of your instruments and then the catering crew and someone for props; and the whole scene’s highly chaotic.
But if you‘re smaller scale and play the local scene, sometimes it’s just you and your instrument and whatever way you have to get the two of you home. I imagine my guy in the image, late, late at night, walking a few quiet streets to where he needs to catch a taxi or the subway or perhaps parked his car. He’d have his guitar in a case, I know, but cases can get so dinged up and ugly, especially if they’re covered in old back stage passes…I know, sentimental value, I get it. But for creative license and because I love the sheer beauty of musical instruments, my guy’s carrying his baby, bare, over his shoulder. Regardless…
There’s this special time after a gig, particularly a good one, where everything came together and the music really flowed. The crowd disperses and the band members are starting to go their own ways after having a friendly beer. The on-stage buzz has died down and you’re fried, but still slightly, subtly euphoric as you make your way home to get some much-needed shut-eye.
While you’re walking, your mind drifts from the high of the gig to a softer feeling, knowing there’s someone at home, sound asleep, but still waiting for you. And the two feelings merge and you have this quiet, private, perfect moment on that silent street, to take it in and savor. It’s a special time, after a gig, one worth saving…at least for the guy in the image.
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