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My arms were the first warning.

We were at a private (but public) gathering we’ve played for three years, tucked beneath a large canopy with another canopy added for good measure. On paper, that sounded like plenty of shade. The weather had other paperwork: 92 degrees, with a heat index of 101.

I hadn’t fully registered how hot I was until my arms started feeling weak. Playing piano became harder, my stomach joined the protest, and eventually I had to step away. There is nothing quite like being physically outmaneuvered by a keyboard while two canopies look on, having already done everything canopies know how to do.

I retreated to the car for air conditioning and water. That wasn’t enough, so the next round involved Gatorade over plenty of ice and cold compresses on my neck and forehead. I ended up away from the music for roughly half an hour, cooling down and reconsidering several of my previous assumptions about my ability to function outdoors.

Tom and Paul, Apparently Heatproof

Tom and Paul kept playing while I recovered. They used the unexpected duo time to try songs we don’t normally play as a trio, including Can’t Help Falling in Love, All I Have to Do Is Dream and Elvis Presley Blues. The songs went over well, giving the afternoon a musical detour rather than simply leaving a piano-shaped hole in the set.

The contrast was not especially flattering to me. Tom had run four miles that morning. Paul had played a four-hour show in 96-degree weather the previous night and was heading to another performance that evening. Paul is also 78 years old and in excellent health.

I, meanwhile, had been sent to the couch by a heat index and rescued with iced Gatorade.

Tom and Paul are accustomed to working in that kind of weather, but their stamina still gave me plenty to think about regarding my own health. Paul, in particular, was operating on a schedule that would have been ambitious without the temperatures. With the temperatures, it bordered on an entirely different species of musicianship.

Soon enough, I was able to return, and the three of us finished strong. It certainly wasn’t my best show, but Tom and Paul made something useful and memorable out of the disruption. After three years at this gathering, the day also reinforced how much we value the time we get to spend making music with friends—even when the atmosphere is trying to steam the piano player.

Elvis Enters the Weather Report

Once we stopped playing, a parade began. I returned to the car for more air conditioning and water, then immediately fell asleep for about half an hour. When I woke up, the parade was still passing.

There was a marching band, with drummers carrying their instruments down the street. Then came an Elvis impersonator in full costume, singing in the same heat that had already removed me from active duty once.

This arrived shortly after Tom and Paul had played Elvis Presley Blues, so Elvis had now appeared twice: first as a song, then physically in the parade. He, too, seemed better equipped for the temperature than I was.

The heat was no joke, though. While packing up, I learned that another person at the gathering had been affected much more severely. Paramedics were called, and the person recovered enough to be helped into the air conditioning before they arrived. It was a frightening end to an afternoon that had already given us more than one warning about the conditions.

By the following day, our forecast for another three-hour outdoor show had dropped to 79 degrees with clouds. Never has 79 sounded so much like luxury.

The scorcher will remain a fond memory: two canopies, three musicians, one involuntary intermission, several cold compresses and a surprise appearance by Elvis. Next time, I’ll be arriving with considerably more respect for the weather—and probably considerably more Gatorade.

If you’re considering live acoustic music for your own gathering, you can get in touch with Bell & Field here. Shade is always welcome.

On November 22, we get to disappear behind an unmarked door for two hours and play in one of our favorite kinds of rooms: low light, close tables, and just enough space between songs for real conversations.

It’s the kind of night where we can actually see people’s faces, catch the side comments and laughter between tunes, and feel the room lean in when a song lands a certain way.

What’s Happening on November 22

• When: Saturday, November 22, 6:30–8:30 PM
• Where: A Private Speakeasy Event at a secret location
• Who: Bell & Field with guest saxophonist Paul Weddle
• What to Expect: Two sets of live acoustic music—piano, guitar, vocals, and sax—played in a room that’s built for lingering conversation, slow drinks, and people who like to actually hear the band. We’ll move from familiar classics to newer favorites, keeping the volume in that sweet spot where you can talk and still follow every note if you want to.
• Website: Contact us directly for information and bookings.

This time we’re not going in as just a duo—saxophonist Paul Weddle is joining us, which means our usual piano-and-guitar setup gets a smoky, melodic third voice threading in and out of the set.

The Room Behind the Unmarked Door

Because it’s a private speakeasy, we can’t post the address—but that’s half the fun. You step off an ordinary street, push through a door that doesn’t look like much, and suddenly you’re in a dim bar where the glasses catch the light and the rest of the world gets a little quieter.

In this space, the music doesn’t have to fight with TVs or shouting. Conversations drop to a murmur, chairs scrape the floor now and then, and you can actually hear the way a note hangs in the air.

The room has that “if these walls could talk” feeling: worn bar tops, low lighting, and just enough distance between tables that you can lean in close and get pulled into a story or a song without feeling rushed to move on to the next thing.

Who We Are When We’re Off the Main Stage

We’re Bell & Field, an acoustic duo that lives somewhere between the warmth of old standards and the pull of songs you might’ve heard on the radio last week.

With piano, guitar, and two voices, we like taking familiar tunes and turning them just a little—changing the feel, stripping them back, or stretching out a moment—so they feel more like a conversation than background noise.

We’ve spent a lot of nights in rooms like this, learning how to read what people actually want. If the crowd is talking, laughing, and catching up, we’ll loosen up the setlist and leave extra space between songs. If the room suddenly goes still, we don’t rush past it—we stay there and let the quiet work with us.

How the Night Will Unfold

From 6:30 to 8:30 PM, we’ll build the evening in layers. We’ll start with a few instrumentals so people can settle in with their first drink, find their seat, and get used to the sound of the room. Then we’ll move into vocal tunes—some that might nudge a few under-the-breath sing-alongs and some newer songs for the guests who like to catch every lyric.

With Paul on sax, the set will have more room to stretch. If we feel the room perk up during a solo, we might let it run a little longer. When things get quieter, the horn will sit just on top of the piano and guitar, barely above a whisper, so people at the tables can still talk without feeling like they’re interrupting anything.

And yes, there will be the occasional clink of a glass, a chair that squeaks at the wrong time, or a door that doesn’t quite close softly—but we honestly love that. It’s proof the music is happening right there with real people, not in a studio where everything is polished and edited.

For the Ones “In the Know”

If you’re on the list for this Private Speakeasy Event, bring your curiosity, your usual drink order (or something you’ve been meaning to try), and maybe the name of a song you’re quietly hoping we’ll play.

We can’t promise we’ll hit every request, but we do our best to weave in what people are actually craving in the moment—whether that’s a standard you grew up with or a song you heard on the way over.

If you’re reading this and thinking, “I’d love something like this for my own gathering,” that’s exactly the kind of night we like to build. Reach out to us directly to talk about putting together a similar acoustic set—piano, guitar, vocals, and (if you’d like) sax—for your event.

What would you be sipping while we play—something classic, or something a bit mysterious? Tell us your pick below.

Here’s to a November evening of music, low light, and the kind of conversations that only seem to happen once the door closes behind you.