Have you ever had an inexplicable encounter with a baby or a dog? A moment where infant turns from the arms of their mother and walks across the table and holds you as if she always knew you. Or a dog crosses the sidewalk to put its paw on you then lays its head on your chest. It feels like they are saying ‘I finally found you.” You hug back and throw out some colorful spiritual strings so to assure them of own heart. It's belonging. It's rust.
“The show MUST go on.” It's a motto for every tour that becomes my every waking, sleeping, and planning of every day on the road. Then I get a cold. How bad is it versus showtime. Negative on the Covid test. There's no full-color hurricane radar and satellite maps with probabilities on the cold's path and intensity. Just me in my head.
Fever conversation with myself, “I think I have to cancel tonight.”
“I think you should cancel.”
Voice message to my manager Carla, “We have to cancel.”
She calls back. “You are cancelling?”
“Yes, I said that.”
“Ok, let me…do what I do…” (Pause) “So you’re cancelling?”
“I am sick. I have to cancel. I put up a video, I look like a trapped miner.”
“I saw it.”
“I’m sorry. I am really sorry. I cry a lot when I’m sick.”
“Remember, I was sick in London and Manchester and I didn’t cancel. And Iceland too where I couldn’t sing but I didn’t cancel. So if I'm canceling it means I can’t even sing.”
Still, I have fever dreams of how I might be able to show up and not sing that song songs in the mucus registers. Or I just do a few lines let the audience enjoy their imagination. How about a contrived sing-a-long? Or I can sing so quiet nobody can hear how sick I am? Okay, maybe I can get through an hour of music. Now to artistically and tastefully incorporate sneezing and a drippy nose into the act. First they laugh but they're going to move away. Probably out the door forever.
Last night we cancelled after Mike Dillon, my champion, my bandmate, driver, merch guy, tour manager, and all around mensch, summed up the situation, “It’s sold out. They care, so they deserve to see you at your best.” And I thought, that’s exactly right. Thank you Mike (every band needs a Mike Dillon).
It's not settled in my mind.
A new friend said she was coming with her mother. I heard about the mother all week long. Mothers are sacrosanct. How can I let a mother down? Sick people may be coming. They may not be here for the reschedule in the spring.Surely I have been sicker than this and got on stage. What would my family of stage performers say to me now? Dad? Grandfather? Uncle Bob? Grandmother Myrtle?
Bad cold is a bad sleep. Gotta get up. Like a horse. Get up. Today is another round of fever conversations about the cold's predicted landfall for tonight's show.
“Mike, was it the right thing to do?” I answer myself, “I have no guilt over cancelling last night” but I think, what if I was the scout in a war who was sick, but if I crawled through the bushes just in time to sing the secret warning song to save my company?
Mike said he felt bad about us not playing. He was strong til 10pm then he had a wave of guilt.
The “must go on” is the operative portion of our show business motto. Everything about our job is my individual responsibility. I have wonderful reliable support people but it's my name on the contract and my up-front money that pays for lodging, plane fares, commissions, deposits, etc. If the show fails, everyone leaves for safety except me. I can't leave my name. Ultimately, I'm responsible for every smile in the audience or every scowl in the office.
I'm 70 years old next month. A half-dozen years past “when I'm 64” and lyrically need to treat sickness seriously. I have been sick for four of the past eight shows. Maybe Hurricane Rickie will be downgraded or go past the next venue, but for now, I argue with my cold until I actually attack it with sleep.
And now Rickie Raccoon.
Falls back to her room.
Only to find Gideons bible.
Drowsy self-dialog about “the show must go” resolves into the musical coda, “Let it be.”
Sleep little darling.
Do not cry.
Wow the whole world is turning into a Beatle song.
So sorry you are feeling ill. Please get some rest and feel better 💕 💓 💗 💖 💜 ♥️ 💕.
I just hope you’re feeling better. We had the great pleasure of seeing you earlier this week (Birchmere) and you were phenomenal, but you must’ve been feeling sick then too.?!
Your health and your vocal health is the most important thing! Please take care of yourself and feel better soon!!!!