The more comfortable an audience feels with the band, the more likely they are to participate in sing-alongs, dance-alongs and clap-alongs. Of course, they are also more likely to yell thoughts, opinions and obscenities at us. (One favorite was at a Boston show, when one guy wouldn’t stop yelling “What’s your name? What’s your name?” with superhuman lungs, so loudly that we could hear over the P.A. system.) Tonight, it was apparently name game time. As soon as I picked my flute, one such adventurous fan screamed, Jethro!!!!” Daddy Wrall was dubbed “Wolfman” by another. Later that evening, Mr. Nice called Lil’ Sam, because, in her words, “he looks like a Sam.” (And presumably, he’s little.)
So, why not? The Lawfirm of Wolfman, Jethro and Lil’ Sam, now open for business in sunny Bloomington, IN, where it was a solid 90 degrees yesterday. I hope you don’t mind us changing our names again like this. We don’t mean to confuse you, but how can we stoop to refute such astute monikers, dude? (Plus, look at those photos of Wrall. They may not be cute, but this Wolfman thing is a hoot!)
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