Chicago

"Say-rah?" rumbled from the kitchen. I peered around the corner, hand resting on one of the million couches in the living room. When he recognized my face, his lit up. "How you doin', girl."

I rambled across the room and into his arms. Hello Ralph. "Hello, You," I sang. My heart sang too. Tonight would be great. Tonight would be beyond anything we'd seen so far.

John stumbled past, shirt in hand. "Does this go together?" Chuck struggled with the futon. Derek seperated posters and gathered 45s. I grabbed a soda out of the fridge and sat back on the couch closest to the kitchen. Chuck came to sit beside me and I took his shoulder in my palm, the stress flowed, muscle to hand and out into the day. The sun streamed in through the multitude of windows and we all sat back for one moment...one full and quiet moment before the storm.

I was always one for a rainy day. The slight showers of the morning left the streets damp and the buildings perspiring. John's brow was the same. He hoped that there would be no more rain. With the barbecue set up outside the Hideout, the chairs and tables and benches, some under tent, most open air. We pulled up to the venue and spilled out of the car.

OUTSIDE THE HIDEOUT

Sean Michael McCarthy & Emily Oddo

Honky Tonk Barbecue

Brooks Porter

Emily Oddo & Charles Ciba


INSIDE THE HIDEOUT

MLE

DJ Andy Dyson & DJ Brian "Agent 45" Poust


Eli "Paperboy" Reed & the True Loves

Hermon Hitson

Ralph "Soul" Jackson & MLE


Adam Fitz & Ralph "Soul" Jackson

The Legendary Roscoe Robinson

Roscoe Robinson

Taylor Hollingsworth & the Spidereaters / Dead Confederate

DEAD CONFEDERATE

The lights went out. I clutched my Rebecca-tini, pulling sugar from the rim of the glass up to my curious lips, and squinted as Charlie Brown frantically ran past. A hum of the guitar still traveled from the stage, the slow crawl of the Dead Confederate set edged to a halt. The darkness and the rumble of crowd conversation prevailed.

We sat illuminated moments later, wagging our heads and allowing the distortion to take its part in the conversation again. It was the conversation, the smoke and lights and rock and roll.

TAYLOR HOLLINGSWORTH & THE SPIDEREATERS



Taylor, striped shirt and easy smile. I followed Sarah up to the stage. I couldn't help but reflect on a night in Austin over a year ago. Travis and I stood side by side, much as we were at this moment, smiling at each other and back at Taylor's flailing sweaty head as he bent over his guitar. Macey. Brian. Dim orange light and crowd of friends in an off-street mexican restaurant. Tonight we stood, under crunch and curses, beers in hands and grins on faces, watching this son of Birmingham burn bright again.

Welcome Home Mister.

Sara Sunglasses

The glasses are holding the sleep in and keeping the day, this dark and dreary Thursday morning, out. It seems silly to fight darkness with darkness...but sometimes that is just what has to be done.