Every night is different.

Every single show is memorable and unique.  No one can attest to that fact more than Carl and I, over the years.  We never know what type of evening awaits us until it ultimately unfolds.

Nothing wrong with that.  Its kind of like opening an Easter egg, as it always has the potential to be something unlooked for.

Delicious and memorable.

And so it went on Friday last at the Three Blind Mice Irish Pub in Mount Clemens, Michigan.  Usually on a Friday night, we can count on several things happening. . .

1.) Folks will be eating.

2.) Folks will be drinking.

3.) Folks will be having a good time, talking, arguing relaxing, singing, shouting, laughing etc.

Beyond that is where the unknown lies . . .

A grey area, so to speak.  That grey area is where we come in.

We believe that someway, somehow, we do influence how the night is inevitably crafted.  If we do our job.  (which, most times, is not really a job, per say . . .), then we have drawn people in and satisfied  them.  We give them a respite from their trouble, worries and daily annoyances.

To give them a new song to sing, or better yet, do our best at singing one of their favorites is everything that we have ever hoped for.

But every show is different.  There is no script or set list that we have ever been able to follow.  As much as we have hoped for things to go a certain way, they have not.  Nothing wrong with that, as it tends to sharpen your skills as entertainers.  We generally go where the audience leads us.

We like it that way.

We do start out with one or at most two songs in mind to begin each show, and after that, all bets are off.  After all, the audience is who we are playing for.  We let them guide us.

They show us the musical way.

In that way, we can taylor our songs to fit any mood or atmosphere.  It is all part of our professionalism, a craft learned over many decades and thousands of performances.

We began on this night at eight, playing some Buffett to the few tables that remained after what passes for a normal dinner time of six O’clock.

Typically when we begin, most of those folks are about ready to head out the door, and make room for the next wave of evening affectionados.

As they settle in, it our job to guide them on an evening musical journey that hopefully will be lead by them.  We try our best to let them guide or way down the nights’ song-road.

We do our best to not hit a dead end, although I must admit that at times it happens.

Not on this night.  We began with JB, and headed out a bit slow, through the waves of island music to country and back again.  Lots of smiles and chatter, told us that we were pretty close to the mark, so far.

Then as we met some fans who stopped by to share their night with us again, we went down a road that was filled with oldies and classic rock.  From Creedence and Seger to The Beatles and Eagles.  It was a Journey that everyone was willing to take.

Usually on any given night, when the midnight hour approaches, the patrons seem to dwindle.  Not tonight.  The midnight lull soon gave way to an musical explosion when Sarah the Tamborine player and her entourage arrived with a vengeance.

All Carl and I could do was to hold on tight as we hurtled down the road at breakneck speed towards one O’clock and our musical destination.

One thing that we can always expect, as how we have learned to not expect anything. Every show is different.

Our very next road leads to the Firehouse, in Saint Clair Shores.  A new venue, a new adventure, to be sure.

There are many twists and turns on any given night.  For no apparent rhyme or reason.

Someday we will explore them all.


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