This is why he’s a musician.
A packed house.
Again.
He loves this place.
Great sound.
Even better vibe.
No wonder it’s become a must-see for music lovers in this neck of the woods. Everyone who’s anyone has played this stage on their way up.
The posters say it all.
It’s where dreams are built.
It’s where his is being built.
On nights like this, it’s not even a dream.
It’s all there—right in front of him.
Even the big leagues don’t always get crowds like this.
He runs through the set list in his head a couple times. He knows by now to leave the door open to changes.
But the opener’s a no-brainer.
Jack wrote it—the perfect blend of musicianship and listenability. It’s one of their best.
No need for mindless banter beforehand. They dive right in, and the place goes nuts.
His voice is on point tonight. He’s totally feeling it. Nothing contrived. This isn’t one of those ten-fan nights. This is one of those nights you look back on as the first night you knew you were going to make it.
But by the third song, he feels a lull in the intensity.
Are they losing them?
He’s never loved this tune. It reminds him why Jack moved back from LA.
It’s just in his head though. On this night, everyone is locked in.
He’s never really figured out why that happens sometimes.
Is it body language?
Cheap drinks?
Luck?
Whatever. He’s not asking questions. He’s thinking about when they’ll put up his poster.
It’s in between songs now.
As the other guys do some talking, he adjusts his beret. That got added to his look when he started to thin out up top.
He glances around the crowd. There’s Mary. His first love. Divorce is funny like that, because he swears he still loves her. Anyway, she’s moving around well on the new hip. They need to catch up after the set.
And Sue. She’s done a great job raising his grandson. Ever since John’s addiction took over. What a relief that he finally found peace.
The energy keeps building. They might not even have to play any covers. Sometimes they throw in a little Tom Petty. But tonight, it’s looking like all originals.
Even the CDs are going fast. He always makes sure to bring extras—their fans haven’t taken to streaming yet.
They save the two songs that were on the radio for last. That one station down in Ocean City, Maryland, gave them some love for a few weeks. Back when they had a deal with the label.
They step off the stage for a minute and soak in the cheers. He glances at his watch. It’s getting late.
He has to help the band pack up. Time never used to matter this much. But masonry is a young man’s game. And a young man he is not.
They’ll do one more song.
And then get some rest.
Mary will have to wait.
But it’s all good.
She’ll be there the next time.
And the dream’s still alive.
