I'm in my 8th year with The Detroit Drive, playing casinos, festivals, private events, clubs, and acoustic gigs. At 58, I'm essentially the same kid who started performing at 14 – just with more miles on the odometer and a deeper appreciation for what this means.
I call it "the juice" – that irreplaceable feeling of performing live. More specifically, I'm chasing moments. You know the ones: when the crowd is fully engaged, the dance floor is packed, the band is locked in tight, and the energy in the room creates this perfect storm where you just surrender to it. You're not thinking anymore; you're just being in that moment with your guitar. Time stops. Nothing else exists.
But let's be honest about the other side:
The summer outdoor gigs are in crushing heat. Driving to gigs in the winter when the weather sucks, the roads are dangerous, and you know you'll be playing to an empty room. Loading in, setting up, tearing down, loading out – every single time. Running your gear, troubleshooting technical issues on the fly, managing band dynamics with different personalities, goals, and life situations, and coordinating schedules that work for everyone. Dealing with the spouse who's frustrated you're gone 2-3 nights every week. Planning every family event and vacation around whether you can find a competent fill.
The logistics alone could be a full-time job, and that's before you even play a note.
So why do it?
This topic isn't about internet flexing or ego stroking. It's about being out in the world, creating moments of joy for people – even if it's just for a few hours on a Saturday night. The world needs live music, played by real musicians who give a damn. There's something vital about that human connection, that shared experience of live performance that no playlist or DJ can replicate.
I know this has an expiration date. I'm not naive about that. Father Time is undefeated, and I have no interest in being the guy who overstayed his welcome or can't admit when it's time to hang it up. When I can no longer deliver at the level I expect from myself, I'll bow out gracefully.
But I'm not there yet. Not even close. When everything clicks – when the room is electric, the band is on fire, and you hit that perfect note at the perfect moment – that rush is still as powerful as it was when I was 14. Maybe more so, because I know how precious and fleeting these moments are.
For those of you out there:
Because at the end of the day, we're all chasing something when we pick up our instruments. What are you chasing?
I call it "the juice" – that irreplaceable feeling of performing live. More specifically, I'm chasing moments. You know the ones: when the crowd is fully engaged, the dance floor is packed, the band is locked in tight, and the energy in the room creates this perfect storm where you just surrender to it. You're not thinking anymore; you're just being in that moment with your guitar. Time stops. Nothing else exists.
But let's be honest about the other side:
The summer outdoor gigs are in crushing heat. Driving to gigs in the winter when the weather sucks, the roads are dangerous, and you know you'll be playing to an empty room. Loading in, setting up, tearing down, loading out – every single time. Running your gear, troubleshooting technical issues on the fly, managing band dynamics with different personalities, goals, and life situations, and coordinating schedules that work for everyone. Dealing with the spouse who's frustrated you're gone 2-3 nights every week. Planning every family event and vacation around whether you can find a competent fill.
The logistics alone could be a full-time job, and that's before you even play a note.
So why do it?
This topic isn't about internet flexing or ego stroking. It's about being out in the world, creating moments of joy for people – even if it's just for a few hours on a Saturday night. The world needs live music, played by real musicians who give a damn. There's something vital about that human connection, that shared experience of live performance that no playlist or DJ can replicate.
I know this has an expiration date. I'm not naive about that. Father Time is undefeated, and I have no interest in being the guy who overstayed his welcome or can't admit when it's time to hang it up. When I can no longer deliver at the level I expect from myself, I'll bow out gracefully.
But I'm not there yet. Not even close. When everything clicks – when the room is electric, the band is on fire, and you hit that perfect note at the perfect moment – that rush is still as powerful as it was when I was 14. Maybe more so, because I know how precious and fleeting these moments are.
For those of you out there:
- If you're considering gigging, what's holding you back?
- If you're currently gigging – how do you balance it all? What keeps you going?
- If you've stepped back – what made you stop, and do you miss it?
Because at the end of the day, we're all chasing something when we pick up our instruments. What are you chasing?



