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.