One more deep breath, and then I lay into the drums with a heavy groove. Lights come up, blazing like guns from a hollywood western gunfight. Two white lights flanking either side of me rush to focus on the kit. Two additional lights directly behind me roar to life, illuminating the drum riser, throwing a large drumset shaped shadow on the ceiling of the tent. More lights are brought to life, all white, and bright, dispelling all the darkness from the kit. The crowd cheers more as each beat continues to groove, driving, pushing, and calling band members to the stage. I watch as they run out to stage, pick up their fiddle, bass, guitar, someone waves to the crowd, then I stop.
silence. waiting.
We all take a breath, and then hit the opening chords of the song. The lights turn on, filtering through the smokey haze. Purple and yellow dance across the stage. Bright white cuts back and forth, slicing through the thick fog, and the music jumps into a life of its own. This is our show in Tours, France. This is what I do for a living. Just another day at the office . . .
The stage during sound check in the afternoon before the show.
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