some nights

there's one for every crowd

some nights I play for suits after they’ve been at a conference all day. they might have a drink. they might look my way across a convention room if their conversation stalls, or try not to look my way if they have to near the stage to retrieve their coat and bag to go home. it’s ok, people. I like going home too. I know what this is.

some nights I marvel at the amount of spiced rum I can still put down and stay cool. the harmonies are easy. since the road goes on forever, does the party really never end?

some nights my denim is armour. my hair is a mane. their fierce protection carries the show on my behalf.

some nights are shit. busted and homesick with a junk sound system and thin attendance and I hone my edge.

some nights the room is joyously full. my friends from in town came and it’s graduation and new year’s eve and my birthday all at once.

some nights the lights are all wrong, but the people are comforting and warm and they apologize because “there really should have been more people here”.

some nights the rooms are large and attention casts its spell and I can hear the quietest of quiets when bodies are still and breathing and my voice wraps around like liquid. we are together and it is transcendent.

some nights are drenched in worry that I am foolish and believe a lie.
or a half-truth.
or a dream.

some nights my feet lift off the floor because my band is a family who can listen and emote simultaneously to create a moment that is singular and unrepeatable.

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little jack films