When the house exceeds its legal occupancy limit two hours before show-time...
When they're packed four deep at the bar and it's all shakin' out on the dance floor...
When your best buds are pounding the snot out of the Ludwigs and laying down a bass line that brings the floor up two feet, and your better half is killing it with her vocals...
When the tubes are toasty-warm and you're riding that magic line between clean and dirt, with touch alone...
When your timing is dead-on, and the synergy takes all of you to places you've never been before...
When the millennials in the audience are wondering what hit them - and just how old are those guys...
When the club owner's praying you're not already booked for the next four Saturdays...
When you find your way to an all-night diner after the gig, too wired to sleep until the first rays of dawn...
When you realize it feels every bit as good now as it did when you were one-third your present age...
- that's when you know you'll
never match that with an acoustic guitar...
