It’s a sweet gig: house band, Wednesday nights, year round. It’s like an airport bar gig, except it’s a spaceport, and half your audience are aliens who’ve never heard human music before. They tend to listen intently. God knows what they’re using for ears, some of them. There was one thing in a water tank that wanted the bass amp pushed over into contact with the glass…
It’s the humans that get annoying. I don’t know how many more times I can reasonably be expected to smile politely at some stupid ‘cantina band’ joke. That movie’s 60 years old anyway.
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