Two years into testing the proposition that a St. We used to go out for pizza or ice cream after a game, but this uniformed little leaguer is watching Deep Fakes sing “about how AI is gonna ruin everything” on an early Friday evening. One rapidly aging man who is now going to settle in for the evening with a nice book, if you don’t mind. Apologies if I didn’t get to your club or see your band, or if I saw your band and didn’t have space to mention it. Instead, I just wrote down what I saw and heard, and now I offer you 30 snapshots of 30 nights of music. I didn’t try to shoehorn my experience into an overarching narrative or strain to make any grand discovery about, you know, What Music Means. But I ventured ever forward, caught some great music, and visited some clubs I’d been meaning to visit for months or even years. My answer to both: More or less! As you’ll learn, there were some stumbles along the way. First, could I get my 53-year-old ass out of the house every night for a month? And second, does the Twin Cities offer enough live music seven days a week that you can always find something worth hearing?
The idea was to answer two questions, hopefully both in the affirmative. Yes, I missed a few openers and a few encores, but the idea was, whenever possible, to make a night of it.
And I didn’t just want to duck in and out.
To some-a you youngsters, 30-in-30 might sound fairly routine, but even in my showgoingest twenties I never kept up that kind of streak. Just a good old-fashioned piece of honest stunt journalism. Sounds simple, right? Maybe even… fun? Every night in June, I would hit a different local venue and check out some music.
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