Tuesday Market Play-by-Play

2:00 p.m.

I arrive at the Tuesday Market behind Thornes Marketplace in Northampton, mandolin and violin in tow. I just got off work at Sam’s Pizzeria on Main Street and rushed over to meet the rest of Darlingside for our second acoustic gig in Northampton. There are bountiful turnips, gourmet mushrooms and suggestively shaped squash, but no Darlingside. I call Harris. We make small talk. I then off-handedly mention that maybe he should bring the rest of the band to the gig that starts now. He agrees.

2:20 p.m.

I have been putzing around on the mandolin for the past 20 minutes and made four dollars and three friends. It has been a good afternoon. I consider quitting the band and going it solo. I then reconsider and call Harris, who wisely does not pick up his phone because he has not yet left the house as he promised twenty minutes ago.

2:40 p.m.

The band arrives. We get set up with Harris’ four-string cello (as opposed to the electric six-string that has become the norm), Dave and Don’s guitars and Drummer Sam’s snare and cymbal. The market has started to fill out, as is evidenced by the number of small, adorably disheveled children catapulting from one end to the other. They are distinguishable only by the jam stains on their faces.

3:15 p.m.

We have just run through our first full-band set. Great success. We got a few sign-ups on our mailing list and more than a few bucks in our “Feed The Band” tip jar. We also discover that someone put a peach in it.

3:45 p.m.

Dave and Don have started playing more covers while Sam, Harris and I wander around. There was an anonymous gift of apple cider and a bag of peaches left next to Sam’s drum set. Mystery ensues.

4:15 p.m.

Small child careens by my instruments, almost knocking over the mandolin. Soon followed by angry mother. Mother catches child. Harsh scolding ensues, child breaks free and runs away. Cycle repeats.

5:00 p.m.

A small group has gathered. We shamelessly repeat our set. Crowd goes wild.

5:30 p.m.

Band grows hungry. I make a pizza run and we wash the slices down with the apple cider. I remark that it is delicious. Sam agrees, and then informs me that in his home state of New Hampshire, all apple cider is delicious. I ask Sam if all streets in New Hampshire are paved with jellybeans and if the populace defecates rainbows. He replies in the affirmative.

6:30 p.m.

The market wraps up. We finish up a third round of our set and call it a night. We got a pretty decent email list, a pleasantly stuffed tip jar and at least a few new friends. We retire to our house on the river, where Abby has baked fresh pita bread(!) and made a stir-fry.

8:30 p.m.

Abby bakes chocolate-chip cookies with toasted coconut. Don, Dave and Harris play Ryan Adams’ “Oh My Sweet Carolina” in the living room while Sam tweaks our first recording in the basement. It feels pretty good to be in a band. The cookies are good too.

Strong to quite strong,

Auyon