Thursday night, we played at the infamous Springwater Bar, Grill, Supper Club, and Crack Spot. Located right next to Centennial Park, it's kinda like a bus station, with Pool and PBR on tap (also an isolated, mustached gentleman that seemed to be toiling over a rigged-up hotplate kitchen, where he sampled various stews and soups that NOONE else was gonna dare to fuck with).
Not appetizing? Well, let me tell you, IT WAS MAGICAL! The rotten-carpeted stage, often home to super-shitty hipster bands, had JUST enough hipster-glitter on it that, when combined with our swangalangs, became a platform for some pretty epic shit. Right when we started, the too-cools began to migrate over to our side of the bar. Honestly, a couple songs in, shit was feelin pretty special. James was hittin notes longer and clearer than ever before, and actually made it through the Rising Sun solo without stumbling! Things were tight.
More importantly, it should be noted that the band that went on after us was UN-BELIEVABLE. They'd only been together a few months, but DAMN they were tight! Free jazz, like instrumental Steely Dan, called Keepin It Loose. Check em out.
That was the beginning of our 3-day run. Next stop, Murfreesboro, then Atlanta.
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