Hi Folks
The Lightfoot Band was back out again. We were in the US doing three shows. Newtown, CT, Earlville, NY, and Barre, VT. Not exactly Boston, New York, or Washington, but the theatres were top-notch with professional sound and lights, and we were doing great business. 
Lately there’s been a lot of driving, but as a senior citizen past the age of mandatory retirement, I will say this: It still has to be better than being a greeter at Walmart.

The Art of Politics

Having been musical director (MD for short) for a number of projects and bands over the years (as has Bill; we have similar backgrounds), I’ve become used to putting out ego brush fires. Music, by its very nature, is very personal and emotional. Many of those who perform it have a heightened sensitivity to criticism. Plus there’s a lot of truth in that old saw about familiarity breeding contempt. And you become very familiar when you rehearse, play, and particularly travel with each other.
The Lightfoot Band is a real anomaly in that regard. We’re not completely without sin, but problems are, for the most part, resolved without hurt feelings or resentment. 
This isn’t exactly an example of what I’m talking about, but it illustrates how friction can build to the point where something untoward can occur.
I worked with a reasonably high-profile Canadian singer (who will remain nameless) a few years back. He was demanding, critical, and generally a horse’s ass. We had a two-week stint at a club in Ottawa. There was a new sound man being trained, and because the singer was too cheap to spring for another hotel room, he shared his with this new guy. 
We had Sunday off, and the singer was out on a date. A band member who was fed up with all the BS talked the new guy into letting him into the room. He rolled back the covers of the singer’s bed and spread out a couple of handfuls of crumbled Saltine crackers on the bottom sheet. He remade the bed and left. 
The next morning, most of the band were in the restaurant having breakfast. The singer stormed in and demanded to know who put crackers in his bed. Apparently, his roommate wasn’t talking. The person who did it stood up and said, “There’s no way I’m going to let anyone else take credit for this. I did it.”
That person was me. 
I’ve already documented in an earlier post the dust-up between the bass player and the drummer in the Joe Fergus band. The drummer made a big dent in the drywall after being shoved into it by the bass player during an after-the-gig rehearsal. He immediately packed up his bass and left yelling “I quit!” As MD, I should have been aware that friction had been building for months. I suppose they were very good at working together despite their differences until it reached critical mass.
For a year and a half, I worked with a very high-profile female singer (who, again, for her good and mine, will remain nameless) who reportedly, in a later band, punched the lead guitarist in the face during a performance. 
Fortunately, even though conditions are ripe for it, The Lightfoot Band is relatively free of squabbles.
That really helps to make up for the hectic pace of being on the road.

But Is It Enough?

The last night (Saturday, Oct.10) we were booked at The Opera House in Barre, Vermont. It was a four and a half hour drive from Friday’s show in Earlville, New York, which itself was a four-hour drive from Newtown, Connecticut. Just starting the trip required an eight-hour drive from Toronto on Wednesday. We very wisely elected to stay over on our last night rather than drive home. which would have been another eight hours plus however long the Canadian border inspection would take. It was a much better idea to do it in daylight.

When we got our itineraries a few weeks ago, this is what it said about the accommodations in Barre, VT:

/ B & B / Millstone Hill> 10 mins to Venue

I’m not crazy about spending the night in some stranger’s house, but I figured I’d grin and bear it. After sound check, Barry, Andy and Bill took a drive over to have a look. Their reviews were less than 5 star. Apparently there was a main house where two of us would stay, and a cottage for the other three. Both would have been hell to unload our stuff in the dark (we never leave important, irreplaceable instruments and amps in the vehicle overnight), and no one was there. It seemed likely that there would be no breakfast at this Bed and Breakfast.

So we decided to find a local hotel. No luck. It’s fall foliage time in New England, and everything had been booked solid for at least a month.

We then did a search that included Montreal and eastern Ontario. The closest hotel we could find that had rooms was in Brockville, Ontario. That was more than halfway to Toronto! There wasn’t any point in checking into it at 3:30 am. 

We drove all the way home.

Is It Worth It?

Yes. Without a doubt. It’s still worth it.