We played a r&r show on Sunday afternoon, Father's Day 2019. Our lead singer dedicated the show to "all the fathers past and present," as well as to "peace and love." It was a heavy thing to do. Lots of energy to take on in that little r&r haven. It definitely brought a focus to our performance. We were playing in front of some folks we knew, and a whole contingent of folks we didn't. Lots of strangers in the crowd.
We were loud. The sound-tech at that place likes to blast music at maximum volume. Maybe best to cut through the small-talk, the bar-talk, the alcoholic haze. We thought it probably killed a bit of the nuance in our band dynamics, but at the same time it was a bit cathartic to just overwhelm the room with our sonic vibration.
We had a few "sound issues" the stage monitors didn't seem to be working correctly on the first few songs, I couldn't hear my guitar very well, didn't know what was happening, couldn't tell if I was in tune or out, but by the 4th song everything was working & clicking.
We played a full set, over an hour of original music, and by the end, we were one solid unit playing our heart's out for all to hear. I nearly spontaneously combusted on stage. I always run hot, but this time my whole body just went up in flames. I felt like I was sacrificing my body to a higher cause. Afterwards I was totally drained, spent, I felt like a hollow husk, drenched in sweat, totally exhausted.
As we were leaving, two beefy "door guys," dressed like bikers, long hair, denim, boots, tattoos, cigarettes in hand, told us we "sounded great." Hah! That was unexpected. Can't think of a better token of validation for the whole mad little adventure! R&R!