Last night’s Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness show was predictably awesome. I’m entering a bit of an ambiguous life chapter, and as I’m figuring out how to release music while keeping decades of insecurities at bay, it felt good being back in the controlled chaos of a busy show day, sipping mezcal with my friends, reminding myself that yes, this is what I know, and where I belong.

It felt good recognizing the drawn looks after a heavy press day, the nervous energy as set time approaches, and having the good sense to say break a leg and watch the show from the audience rather than occupying valuable real estate side stage (managers, take note).

It felt good knowing how draining playing for two hours can be, that all you want post show is to stretch and drink water and pray to the road gods that it’s just a case of the sniffles and not Hand-foot-and-mouth disease. You love your friends, and love them even more for not hitting you with the “let’s hang!” text at midnight.

To Andrew and team, and the myriad other bands and artists paying their bills on the road right now, stay safe out there, and keep doing the damn thing.