And it’s the trying that’s so hard, especially in live performance. Every night you push yourself to your absolute limits, mentally and physically, and as the standards rise, you’re like a high-jumper continually raising the bar. On a good day you might clear it, but the rest of the time you just fall on your ass.

…

Then there was that mighty roar when the houselights went down, a physical wave ag… Moreainst keyed-up nerves as I ran onto the stage into the twilight, and settled behind the drums while the opening movie played through (“What did they put in my tea?”).

Those audience responses created a sensory buzz greater than any sense of personal vanity, and that was part of the addiction that crept into your soul over the years. That atmosphere was exciting and contagious, and never got old — despite all the stress, the fatigue, the performance anxiety, and the sheer repetition of doing it night after night. A rock concert remains one of the most exciting events I have ever experienced. Though I must admit, I have always had a secret wish just to be there, to watch and listen and not have to work. But I guess that might not be quite so exciting — at least after the 500th time.

The hardest show of the tour is always the first one, with all the preparation it takes to bring everything to that point of readiness, and the pressure of actually doing it, just once, in front of an audience. The first stage, in many ways, was the final stage. After that, no matter how difficult it was to perform at that level every night, it could never be as uncertain, or as exciting, as the First Show.



…

For the three of us, performing was an all-consuming state of mind, in which every note and every beat was a matter of complete focus, analysis, and effort — a total commitment. After one show on the Vapor Trails tour in which I hadn’t been feeling well physically — nauseous and light-headed — I said to Alex that I had thought I was having a heart attack or something. But, I said, “My fear wasn’t that I was going to die. I was worried that I was going to wreck the show.”

Alex laughed and shook a finger at me. “Yeah — whatever you do, don’t wreck the show!”

But, in its essence, that feeling was real. In the consummate self-immolation of every life-or-death performance, I really would rather die than wreck the show. But I guess that would wreck the show, too.

…

After the Columbus show, which was another very good one for us and the audience, we had another day off, establishing a typical rhythm for this tour: two shows, day off, one show, day off, then two shows again. [Bus driver] Dave drove us south to a truck stop near the Kentucky border, and the next morning Michael and I rode a long loop down through the Daniel Boone National Forest and around Lexington, with its vast, park-like horse farms on manicured lanes. (Last tour I wanted to move to Virginia; this tour it was Lexington.)

The day also gave me one of my all-time favorite church signs, “IF YOU TAKE SATAN FOR A RIDE, PRETTY SOON HE’LL WANT TO DRIVE.”

That is so good.

…

Michael and I followed a perfect country road along a high bluff, with fields on our right and panoramic views to our left, down over the Ohio River and across to wooded Kentucky. I remembered that stretch of road from the spring of ’97, riding it the other way with Brutus, and taking a photograph from beside the Overlook Restaurant.

“HE IS NO RESPECTER OF PERSONS,” said the church sign.

“Who?” I wondered. “The Debble?” The quote was attributed to the book of Acts, and I decided to look it up. It turned out to be God who was no respecter of persons, meaning that when it came to Judgement Day, he didn’t care who you were.

… Less