Played my usual monthly gig at The Legacy today, and thank goodness Paul was there, too. After several days of fighting a persistent cough, I rested my voice all morning before the gig, hoping to be able to get through at least a few songs on my own, and let Pablo carry the lion's share of the rest.
Didn't work.
What had been a cough is now full blown laryngitis. When I tried to sign, my voice rasped like a 90-year old smoker and cracked like a pubescent teen. It managed to limp through "Folsom Prison Blues in a Minor Key," which uses my low range, and I spoke the lyrics to "Last Chance Tattoo" because a little girl who had been at last month's show requested it.
Fortunately, Paul--working without a set list--managed to save the day. I felt completely useless.
Didn't work.
What had been a cough is now full blown laryngitis. When I tried to sign, my voice rasped like a 90-year old smoker and cracked like a pubescent teen. It managed to limp through "Folsom Prison Blues in a Minor Key," which uses my low range, and I spoke the lyrics to "Last Chance Tattoo" because a little girl who had been at last month's show requested it.
Fortunately, Paul--working without a set list--managed to save the day. I felt completely useless.
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