WHAT DOES TIME WANT FOR DINNER? (The answer is always chicken...)

I’m currently in the shaky 2.5 hours between soundcheck and the show. I have eaten three hours before I go on stage so I can sing on an empty stomach but still have energy from what I ate. It doesn’t always work out. It’s a gross feeling to wring your guts out to hit a hard note and there’s a sack of chewed potatoes in there. Singing is not a swan-like discipline; it’s an endurance sport, complete with clenching like you are having a baby out your mouth, and peeing a tiny bit in your pants. (Maybe this is why I’ve never won a Grammy?) 

After soundcheck I usually go off by myself because my bandmates are really fun and hilarious and if I stay with them I risk blowing out my vocal cords laughing about chicken treat marketing or some other such vague industry that takes itself very seriously. Getting all hoarse would be bad so I go off like a cat who’s looking to have a dignified death, but unlike the cat I’m very uncertain and jellylike. It’s a vulnerable time of day. I’m tired and anything could get in to fuck with my peace of mind. Bad food, internet dicks, worrying about forgetting to put a beloved on the guest list, feeling less than ready for the show, body dysmorphia, etc. The list is endless. But I alone am the architect of what happens the rest of the night so I have to put on my cheerleading boots.

I have to dance around a little or watch some cartoons. Do some yoga. Go running. Anything to get the happy atoms excited. All the shaky feeling goes away as the band and I go on stage and see your faces. I love to hear your clothes rustling, murmurs to your friends, feet shuffling, caps hissing off the green and brown glass bottlenecks. Best of all though is the sound of people laughing. That’s the sound of people relaxing and being excited at the same time. You do that for me too, and I owe you. xo.