Music · 2006-05-16

Nothing comes to a sleeper but a dream

In the living-out-a-dream category: Last weekend Mudcat played gig #6, this time a private party in a great location: a chocolate factory that resides in the old Red Hook Brewery in the Fremont neighborhood of Seattle. The atmosphere was so comfortable and welcoming, and the crowd so enthusiastic about our being there, that the experience was transcendent. We were reading each others’ minds about the natural arcs of solos and song endings, and we jammed much like we do in our practice sessions when we think no one else is listening.

We played for beer (and chocolate), but our host surprised us by presenting us with a bit of lucre at the end of the night — along with a lecture about how we should get used to being paid! For me it’s been, um, well, more than two decades since I made money from a gig. I’m tempted to frame it.

(The title of this post is from Lowell Fulson’s Sleeper, a tune we cover in Mudcat and one of our favorites. As it happens, the first — and only — band I ever made an actual living from was called Sleeper.)

Next gig: Saturday, June 24, 9pm, at the Montlake Ale House again. Be there or be square.