The things you don't see..

It happens to everyone I know. The outbreak of a cold just leaves you isolated and confined to your bed, wasting paper tissues, the same way that Justin Bieber wastes eggs on his neighbour.

And most of you get away with it too. You simply call you boss and let him/her know that you're not able to come to work for a few days. After that you claim the couch and plow through every season of Breaking Bad on Netflix, hoping that this pesky cold of yours will be gone in a few days.

Well the story of a musician's cold is a bit different. (And since I'm a man, I would like to point out that this combination amounts to what many of my fellow male musicians consider to be something not too far from an "Ultimate-near-death-experience".)

As I'm writing this I'm in bed at the fabulous Park Inn ski resort in Trysil. We've been holed up here since tuesday, also known as "Day Zero", A.K.A: the day I woke up with a cold/death sentence. We've been playing double gigs, doing 2 sets of after ski at 4pm, and then 2 sets at 11pm, entertaining the dinner guests as they gather for the evening drink.

Now the cold I developed isn't really that bad, except for the fact that it seems to have focused on my throat.

At this point I would like to declare that I'd gladly jump around on stage with my left leg in a plaster cast, rather than having my throat out of order. The thing is that I have to make this work. I have too much pride in my somewhat out of shape body, to simply neglect some gigs and join the Netflix army on the couch.

And every time I enter the stage, knowing that my sole purpose during the next two hours is mainly to keep my vocal efforts to a minimum, and not do any more damage to my throat, I always feel guilty.


Well, I'm on stage for one reason. I want my energy, passion and lust for music, life, love and people to spread through everyone in front of the stage, so that you can let go of whetever bothers you experience in the life you lead. I am one of the fortunate ones who get to live my life through music, and I'll be damned if I don't at least try to give all I've got in order to give something back, just as a small token of gratitude for the hand that I've been dealt.

In the end though, most of the people praise the perfomance, smile at you as you walk off stage, or just nod their head as you get your morning coffee at the restaurant. I might break in the process, (and that has happened on a few occasions),  but to everyone who might have registered a slight change in my vocal range these past days, I can only blame my crappy immune system and pray for a quick recovery. Luckily the hotel has a spa with a steam sauna. My vocal cords might actually have a shot at surviving this week,

Next week I'm playing 5 dates all by myself.

The year is only 3 weeks old, and I already need a vacation...