It happened to be on New Year's Eve this year, so everybody counted down, baby new year came out, and champagne sprayed everywhere. And then we played for an hour and had a fucking good time. I started the evening hop-dancing for warmth at 4:30pm in a stiff chill breeze with foreboding overcast skies. But there were pots of chili, grilled sausages, hot chocolate, and friends all around.
DTF played our set at 7:10, and hit our stride after hiccoughing through the two jazz tunes. We ended strong with improvised lyrics blues about our favorite topic, a fish fry. This was the band's last hurrah, but various combinations of people playing together will carry the spirit on.
And then there was Midnight Rhythm: Carhart Edition. Our bassist is famous for only ever wearing Carharts -- even on the plane down here, even leaving the sauna -- and so we decided to honor his awesomeness as a person and musician by all donning them. He's a quiet guy, but I'm pretty sure he was pleased. Other fun facts: someone collected old underwear all season, handed them out, and we were showered with boxers, longjohns, and a few lacy pairs while we played. And I too-emphatically cheers'd my trumpet player, shattering her bottle of champagne in the cold. Good thing we brought 10 bottles on stage with us.
I think it was my favorite New Year's; or at least tied with playing Taboo and waiting for the world to explode for Y2K.
RIP DTF, you were my favorite thing about Antarctica. Here's to new punk!
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