Should one blog even when one doesn’t necessarily have a lot to say? The Revival played a show last night, and it was a really incredible experience. I mean, it was lacking what the movies would consider to be an incredible show. Such as: the mass amount of fans who somehow know when and where to show up (and actually do), the major label talent scout who just happens to be in the neighborhood and is drawn in by a sound he just can’t pass up, the magnificent sound system, the fact that the show only consists of one song (and it’s the best song ever written), or the perfect amount of feedback that happens when the guitar player plugs in or the singer steps up to the mic.

But it was great and instead of all that, it was a real show. Even opposed to what most bands (including The Revival) would really prefer to occur, it ended up nearly exactly the way I want every show to feel.
           We started playing to four people, give or take. For probably the first 45 minutes, there was hardly a soul in the room and the applause after each song felt awkward. The Revival, though, has this great ability to play as if every show was the biggest and we never let it appear that we feel just as awkward as the four people turned around at the bar. What that really feels like is failure. It feels like you’ve done what you could to get people out, and they all decided they had better things to do. It feels like it’s your birthday, but there’s a party going on elsewhere; you get some nice text messages and well wishes but they’ll have to catch you tomorrow.

We kept going though. I personally believe that pain (and trust me, to play to no one is most definitely painful) brings out the best in me. My father always told me “competition breeds excellence,” and I feel this is a good example of that. When I’m on a stage in the middle of a big city: that’s me competing with the night. I’m competing with all the other vices and excitements that are going on all around.

And by the time we came to the last song of the first set, I was all fired up: feeling useless, thinking a million thoughts at a million miles an hour about how I had totally failed all of my dreams. So I was really laying it on thick in the solo section (like I do), and there were suddenly cat calls and hollers. I looked up and, behold! There were people walking in (sure, not pouring in, but the randoms were showing up), a great-looking couple dancing real sexy-like in the middle of the floor and applause for every slide and growl. Out of nowhere, it was rock and roll.

The set ended and it was like they had been there the whole time. Requests to keep playing and the classic drunken monologues about how well we play, how they used to hang out with so-and-so from the Grateful Dead (et al), and how we should really listen to them 'cause they "know how the music scene works" started flying. Beautiful.
           The best part, though, was that we weren’t trying to slam people’s hearts through their spines with sheer volume and action from the word go, like some sort of cartoonish, rock and roll Jason Statham movie. At ‘bar gigs’ (shows where we play extended sets, solos and songs, add in covers and blues, there are no set times, no opening bands, no cover charge), such as this one, we just do what we do. They are the shows I love the most. It’s vastly different from the ‘rock show’ which usually sees us on a bill with at least two other bands, with whom we typically have absolutely nothing in common (i.e.: a punk band, followed by a death metal group and then us as the headliners – bizarre), it costs about $10 just to get in, the bar will close immediately following the last set (no matter what time it is), the set is only 30 minutes, there’s a ton of stress in-between bands concerning load-in/break down speed, the sound guy is stoned, the stage is too big, and they never, ever pay – they basically just pretend to be bigger than what they actually are, or maybe just give a lot of bands a nice fantasy of being bigger than they are. But seriously, try getting people to come out to that a few times a month.

             In direct opposition to that, The Revival really gets to shine when all the stupid pressure is gone. Anyway, this has been a very long way of saying that the second set was as real an experience of rock and roll as history can provide, we ended up bringing in a pretty good amount of people, none of whom did we invite or know beforehand, and that the music just felt good, felt right. And that’s something money can’t buy. That’s something that doesn’t even happen that often with really great bands. That feeling is worth just playing for thirty people with beers in hand and smiles on their faces. I could give up most things for that.

Random aside: I really should stop watching, or even looking up, lonelygirl15. That shit is just too intense, and it really affects me. Really. Addicted much? Goddamn. Wait, what? Who's got a crush on Jessica Rose?