Dispatch from the Gentlemen's Club
Stagecraft & Strange Aeons
A short dispatch from rehearsal: smoke, velvet, and the wrong kind of smoke.
Somewhere between the stage lights and the fog machine, a door you were never meant to see has begun to open. The band persists in stepping through it, instruments in hand, as though this were a perfectly normal way to spend an evening.
New arrangements, old ghosts, and a stubbornly uncooperative metronome conspire to keep things interesting. We recommend bringing a spare pair of ears, just in case.