Photo by Mulography
Rockaway, Monday June 7th, 2021
I take the ferry to from Rockaway to Pier 11/ Wall Street. It being a hot summer’s day, the ferry’s completely full. Mostly full of people in beachwear and masks. Like a PG casting call for ‘Eyes Wide Shut’.
Thinking through the set list in minute details. My mind on high alert. Spare batteries, spare strings, spare printed set lists. I’ve been waiting 15 months for this gig. 15 months? Twenty minutes? 10,000 years? Time’s a blur. Now back in Manhattan waiting for the bus to take me from downtown to the lower east side. We pass through China Town. So many ‘for sale’ and ‘to let’ signs. Graffiti. Pop up craft beer stores. The bus spits me out on the corner of 1st avenue and 1st street. Exiting the bus, the street smells of of weed and money. Blinding sunshine. I pass by ‘1A’ where I once got accidentally shit faced with Damien Dempsey and Dan Donnelly. That was definitely at least 10,000 years ago.
I walk south across Houston Street to 196 Allen Street. Outside I meet my old friend Jack Silbert. I’ve been burned on this before so I don’t immediately assume Jack is there for the gig. He is. My vaccination record is checked at the door. I walk back in the doors of Rockwood Music Hall.
E.W. Harris and his brother Phil are sound checking before their opening set. I see Chris for the first time since the BeforeTimes. I see Ken Rockwood. We hug. Our families are okay. I see Matt. I see Amber. Then so many people. We are here. We are here. We are here. The rest of the band arrive. We warm up with some harmonies in the green room. We are here. We are here. We are here.
I am ready to make some joyful sounds.
Thanks so much to everyone who came out Saturday. It was a joy to play for you. I was a little overwhelmed by seeing so many of you all at once after such a long period of seeing so few people. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
I’ve posted a completely unedited room recording of our set on my Patreon page:
LILY OF THE MOHAWKS
NO CAUSE FOR ALARM
May 12th, 1916 – A SONG FOR JAMES CONNOLLY
COME BACK TO THE TABLE
BE THERE IF I HAVE TO SWIM
WE DON’T HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT
BEEF OR SALMON
A CLOUD IN THE SUMMER SUN/ FUCK IT
SKIN AND BONES
MAYBE NEXT YEAR
JESUS IS COMING ( AND I CAN’T PAY THE RENT)