The host starts tired and buzzing. He is back two days later, in Studio D on a Thursday night, sounding like the last person in the building who still catches the small stuff. Business has picked up again, which turns into a complaint about carrying the place and, somehow, a sales pitch for a FujiFilm XT4 with lenses, batteries, and charger. The camera bit does not sound like a tidy listing. It sounds like something he likes, but also something he needs gone. Then his body interrupts the whole plan. Before a large club show, he gets a stomach problem bad enough that one bathroom stall feels like a serious risk. He tries a pill. It helps just enough to make clear it has not fixed anything, so panic turns practical. Tequila becomes the fix. He says he was not planning to drink, then decides it is the only thing he trusts to calm his stomach for the night. Of course, the buzz shows up too. From there, he gets on the motorcycle and heads for the 101, while answering the obvious objection about nearly dying on a bike before. Then parking takes over as the villain. Downtown near 7th Street and the Terragram sounds like a punishment for anyone arriving by car. The show still wins. By the end, the irritation gives way to excitement about old songs, old memories, and parts that hit harder now than they did when he was a kid. He worries he is boring people, signs off fast, and lets the music take it from there.
