Sometimes, it can be relaxing . . .

Sitting by the water and watching the tides as they go in and then back out again.

Sometimes it can be relaxing.  And then, sometimes not.

When you are sitting by the water it may be relaxing.  Entertaining at a pub, and watching the patrons come in, fill the tables, listen for an hour or so, and then go away again, is hard work.  Good work; but, hard work, just the same.

That was how it seemed on Friday last, as we entertained at the Three Blind Mice Irish Pub, in Mt. Clemens, Michigan.

I guess, since most all of the roads in downtown Mt. Clemens are under repair, we should be thankful that anyone at all that is willing to brave the construction and spend a night out with us.

Be that as it may; we began the night at 8’clock with a near full house, only to have them turn over two hours later, to nearly no-one, and then again, nearly full.  It seemed to happen all night long, just that way.  In and out.  Full, then empty, then full . . .

Ok, I think I have made my point.

“How does it affect us?”, you might ask . . .

Well, as “Entertainers“, (Lol), we need to establish an rapport with our audience.  It takes a little while to get to know them, and they us.

We begin doing what we do, (Whatever that is).  We play for a bit, and then probe the patrons for feedback on what they would like us to favor them with.  After a bit, we begin to understand what each table or group is longing for, and try and tailor our sections to match.  Only in that way, can we give them an experience that they will hopefully find memorable.

Simple?  Still, what’s the problem?

Well, all of this, takes a fair amount of time.  There is a “feeling out” period where the audience comes to except us, and lets us into their experience.  It takes a while to get people to except you.  To share their night, their dinner, their reverence or excitement of celebration with them.

And in that time, we have the ability to do the same with them.  To share with them our expertise, our passion, or our personalities.

It takes time.

And on a night where we don’t have time, we do the best that we can.  Carl and I understand that it is an honor to have people share their evening with us.  We try our very best never to betray that time and trust buy not being less than expected, or in most cases, even more.

So it went.  In then out.  In and out and in and out and . . .

It was a good night.  And although we were tired from already playing once that afternoon.  We  got through the night, as we usually do; by leaning on patrons to give us the energy we required to get through it.  In fact, our last set, (our fifth hour), was one hour and ten minutes long.  (Not exactly fading away.)

By then, the tides had come back in, and with it the flotsam and jetsam of humanity.  When that door opens next, anyone could come through it. The opportunities are endless really, when you think about it.

It could be an old friend.

It could be our next, best friend. It could be a record producer that has been looking for us for some of these long forty years.

Or, it could be someone so down-and-out that they don’t ever realize how much they need music in their lives again.  Music to lift them back away from the edge of despair.

You really never know what the tides might bring in.

That is why we all love the promise of the tides. . . .


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