You'll find yourself at a reunion of old grads, and old undergrads, and somebody will start croaking out one of these things and everyone will gradually join in. Each in his own key, of course. Until the place is just soggy with nostalgia.
There were new faces. But there were also a lot of familiar faces. Some of the faces were still behind masks. Some of the faces belonged to those who had drifted away from San Francisco since the pandemic began but were back for in town in a way that coincided with this momentous occasion in a bitter sweet way — an occasion that was one more sign that life was truly getting back to normal — Bazaar Cafe’s regular Thursday open mic was back live and in person and on the premises.
I was pleasantly surprised that my performance muscles hadn’t noticeably atrophied and I was able to make it through “The Albatross Song” and my newer-ish song “Till We Have Faces Again” as well as do some promotional schtick that involved tossing out a few rubber duckies into the audience (EGPhest V is coming) — fortunately no injuries were sustained in that process. It felt good to not be playing to a computer screen and hear people's laughter at my jokes or joining in on the "audience participation portion" of The Albatross Song.
A lot of familiar tunes got sung with the audience joining in. A lot of catching up was done. And some familiar habits and patterns were fallen into. It was good.
The extended musings of a songwriter.