Friday, January 10, 2003: Club Dada
It's now Monday, a full three days after our show at Club Dada last Friday night. And my body STILL aches. It's my own fault, of course-the combination of a packed Club Dada, our first show in two months, and the knowledge that the scary-good Queen For a Day were coming on after us turned me into a deranged jack rabbit on stage. It wasn't enough to play well, I thought-we had to put on a SHOW. While I'm not entirely sure we succeeded to the best of our abilities, I can assure you that I got the best work out I've had in months. My legs are still throbbing, and my neck muscles feel like I moshed for three hours at a late-80s Metallica show. Fuck I'm old.
So if you weren't there, you missed a decent time. The band was great, especially given the length of our layoff. Mike seemed to enjoy himself more than any gig I've ever seen him play, and Jon was windmilling like Pete Townshend incarnate (let's hope that's all Jon has in common with Pete this week. God I hope it isn't true). Eric's motion was a bit limited by some back problems, but as always he was the funkmaster extraordinaire. And Jay? He was grinning ear-to-ear as usual. All in all, the band rocked. My voice, on the other hand, had some problems. One of the drawbacks of trying to sing like Neil Diamond is that it just ain't natural-I have to dig down really deep to come up with that Neil-ish growl, and sometimes my throat isn't real happy about it. This was one of those nights. I got through the show OK, but I hate it when I don't sing to the best of my abilities. But I did my best to make up for it on other ways (like strutting around the stage like an acid-fueled Mick Jagger), and all in all, it was a great evening.
A few other happenings of note from the show:
As always, a thousand thanks to the many friends who made the trek to Deep Ellum to see us. Your loyalty is an inspiration to us, as is your endless thirst for booze. We hope to see you all at the Lakewood Bar and Grill on January 31.
Maurice Gibb R.I.P.