The first thing the road teaches you is that nothing runs on time. The second is that it doesn’t matter, as long as the room is warm and someone remembered the spare strings.

Small rituals

We have a rule: whoever drives picks the music, and nobody is allowed to complain before the second song. It has introduced us to a lot of strange records and solved more arguments than it started.

Every night is different. Some crowds sing the loud parts back at you, others listen so quietly you can hear the amps hum. Both feel like a gift.