The Expense of Compassion

A year and a half ago, I was playing a set at a really famous venue in Atlanta called Smith’s Olde Bar. A fellow musician asked me if they could sit in and play on my set since they really liked my music. I was flattered and said “of course,” and what followed was, to put it lightly, a disaster. I stood in front of a filled venue playing my original songs over a drum kit so loud and off beat I could hear myself think. I shouldered the shame and the blame for such an awful set even though I ha...