Riding home from Wovenhand was just shy of amazing. Wovenhand dug so deep into my core tonight, not even a quick jab to a broken rib from B-Rad could shake the level of beauty. Truly, it was amazing. I've been to many shows at the Triple Rock Social club. A few being really spectacular. Slim comes to mind. Much of this notion is brought on by the easy flow of High Life I'm sure. Be it Slim or Linton, High Life is the pulse that bleeds the demons and makes the music sink deep. Tonight though, with the slightest buzz, the sound was beyond good. It changed how I will view future shows. Maybe it was David Edward's knowledge that sped the sound board guy to new heights? I don't know? But it was so clean and so perfectly loud, I couldn't stop being amazed. The music. The sound. The lyrics, the fucking drummer and the fucking bass player. Holy fucking shit. It was magic. You can dismiss it as drunken blather if you like. Many times that would be true. Or, if you're inclined, you could say that Wovenhand is to much into Jesus or spirits or whatever. I don't know what to tell you and I don't really give a shit. I'm not into Jesus and tonight's show moved me into a place I didn't know. You missed something that I know will kick my ass in memory many times over in the weeks to come. Yeah, I'm fuzzy still from the liquid gold, and riding home and feeling so fucking free to be back on my Steamroller might have conjured up many of these gallant words. Who the fuck knows what's what. I just know hearing and seeing B-Rad realize what was taking place was some of the best shit I've seen in a long time. As Mr. Edwards came out for the second encore, he sat alone with a mandolin and sang Black Soul Choir. I think about 15 people in the audience understood what they were seeing. Of those 15, there were four dancing on the souls of the shy and weak hearted.