An actual conversation with a friend after the first set, which ended with some song that has the subject drinking himself to death after his girlfriend killed herself and he didn’t notice any warning signs:
Friend Of Dead Acorn: Soooo ... did you write that last song?I’m pretty sure I write some cheery songs, too, but jeezo-peezo, that Love Gone Wrong stuff is some low-hanging fruit.
Dead Acorn: Yeah.
Frend Of Dead Acorn: The fuck? You, uh, what … some kind of a tortured soul? Got some demons, do ya? Hmm?
Dead Acorn: It’s all puppies and lollipops with me … puppies and goddamned lollipops.
Anyway, all in all, it went okay. The other guy playing was outstanding as always, and another friend has asked that we learn “Happy Boy” by The Beat Farmers, so that he can do a guest appearance and play the kazoo and gargling parts. This world needs more songs with gargling, if you ask me.
With weekend nights like that, it's seems obvious that I must have done something pretty dang good in a previous life to have wound up where I am today.
The full title quote from William Congreve (circa 1700):
Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,
To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
I don't know how he knew that someone called The Dead Acorn would be using that quote in a blog post 300+ years hence, but that part about a "knotted oak" seems like kind of a shot. Asshole.