“Well, I’ve read better lyrics” she opined, listening to the old rocker drumming out the song’s rhythm on the creaking floorboards. The old rocker frowned, perturbed at her critique. “Maybe I should just hang-up the old drum sticks and get a real job” he mused aloud.
She sat down next to him on the dusty floor, took the drumsticks and handed him a beer. “Pretty sure you just need a better venue, a little inspiration and maybe an actual drum kit.”
Yes, he concurred. He was old but still the coolest rocker around.
One year later, he opened his own venue. It was a former bank, downtown. It had a main stage, a cafe, and a roof deck. He made sure to book every band that auditioned to play. They had the best house drum kit of any venue within 500 miles.