We'll call them Soulfinger.

What are we going to do with Soulfinger? Perfect name. I never tell musicians I work with about my blog any more. It would suck if I couldn't speak candidly about them and our world.

But Soulfinger? Decked out in velour in front of a 2000 strong casino crowd? You have to realize I'm co-fronting the band with this 300-pound black female belter who sings like Aretha channeling Big Mama Thornton. Bobby Lightfoot and Big Queen Asskicker. Picture it, man. It's like something out of a dream. After eating a large pizza in a hemp frenzy.

And when they switch it on and tight it up and play it without the Jagermeister on th' rocks it's like a god damn Stax/Volt/Motown package tour. "Let's Stay Together", "Will It Go 'Round", "I Wish", "What's Going On", "I Got You (I Feel Good)", "Sex Machine".

God damn "Shotgun" and "Can't Turn You Loose".

It's insane. It's insane. It's a crazy ride. It's like that girl you knew and she was a cold fish and then she was a rotary wankel sex engine with a nitrous boost on full god damn bore.

Maybe it's that these guys need to learn how to play the same good show if it's in front of 2000 people or 10.

The saying in my band fiction was "we put on the same show for 4 people that we do for 12".

That's funny. And kind of sad. But it's spared true existential bleakness by being funny.

What's going to happen to Soulfinger? All that work staring me down and it really is a blast to be just scrugging at the mic and doing Temptations routines. Beat that crap.