The doors had opened early, and people were starting to pour in.  The place was already crowded by the time we did our soundcheck, and I attempted to sing half of a song before I realized with utter horror that my voice was not going to “pull through” for tonight’s show.  It was completely shot.  Trying to sing a moderately high-pitched note was impossible – it was even difficult to talk.  I had been hoping that it would miraculously improve by showtime – but it wasn’t happening.  I couldn’t sing.

This presented a considerable problem – because I am the lead singer.

Our band, JIM, was formed in Lake Placid in 1995.  For about 10 years, a few lineup changes, 5 albums, and lots of shows, we built up a devoted following before disbanding in 2005. Since then, we played reunion shows periodically, the last being over 6 years ago. Fans had been asking for more shows, and now we were finally delivering.  They had come from all over the region, the country even, to join us in our revelry. Hundreds of happy faces filled the room, many old friends and acquaintances mixed with potential new fans, all excited to hear what JIM had to offer – and I knew I couldn’t sing.

I pulled the band members aside and told them that despite our hopes – it wasn’t happening. How could we play a show without a lead singer?  I was anxious. Pacing.  Politely trying to explain to any of the happy faces that wanted to fraternize that this show may not happen.  “I can barely talk, much less sing.”  How do you tell a huge crowd of people that have gone to great lengths to come to your show that it is impossible to play?

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