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The little dive bar known as, well, the Dive Bar at 1016 K St. is packed tonight. Packed in so much as a bar can be on an off day. Still, the bar does what it can to bring in customers. No cover charge. Drink specials. The occasional waitress dressed as a mermaid. Tonight, the entertainment is a live brass band followed by a somewhat unconventional industrial rock solo artist calling himself 'White Fern'. Kyle Ferlen - or Chris Ruthorford, as he was known publicly - waits at a table close to the stage. The lights are dimmed in the bar and turned up on the stage to draw the eye. Patrons are chatting, drink in hand above the loud music or dancing on the dance floor. Kyle is nursing his own bottle of locally brewed IPA, lost in thought. This is his first real gig in Sacramento, and Lord knows he needs the money. He has spent the last 3 weeks travelling west, mostly because he needs to find better work. Partially because he can't seem to sit still for very long. He's slept 5 nights out of 7 at bus stops and train stations, with the occasional cheap motel when he can afford it. Showers were hit or miss, depending on whether or not he finds a room to stay in. Fortunately for him, 'Grunge' seems to fit his musical style.
The brass band is winding down, and Kyle is winding up. His mind is wrapped around his performance, little else. Performing isn't easy: doing the same thing over and over with the same level of enthusiasm and energy can be draining. Tonight is no different, and Kyle is running off 5 hours of sleep, half a pot of coffee and a beer to calm his nerves. It won't be easy. That's what I get for being an artist instead of getting a real job. Dad would say something like that. Prick. Kyle shakes his head before taking another swig of his hopped brew. A voice over the microphone cuts through Kyle's thoughts.
"We having a good time tonight or what?" A moderate amount of cheers. Some hearty claps and whistles. "Hey, thanks so much. You can follow' Sacratempo' on Facebook or Twitter. Glad you could make it out tonight! Up next is 'White Fern', let's hear it!" A mixture of courteous clapping and cheers with people who are already drunk and hyped up from the last performance. Kyle walks up on stage at his queue, grabbing the mic.
"Thanks, man. And thank you, all you sexy people! Especially you, pal." Kyle points at an obese man in a flannel shirt who had been dancing like a fool all night. That gets a few laughs. The hefty man throws Kyle a thumbs up. "As my friend said, I'm 'White Fern'. Just got in from a few killer shows in Reno. Gonna have another killer show tonight!" Kyle throws a fist up in the air after that one. A few more cheers and whistles. The Minstrel looks towards the DJ, who is setting up for the prerecorded track to go with Kyle's voice. The DJ gives Kyle the 'OK', and Kyle grins, turning back to the audience. "This first one is my own spin on 'Only Happy when it Rains'." The industrial rock rhythm kicks in and Kyle goes to work.
4 suxx vs. 1 suxx, -1 Glamour
The music is loud and the crowd is vibrant. Maybe it's the booze. Maybe they're worked up from 'Sacratempo'. Maybe Kyle is just that good. Kyle's passionate voice rings out clear over the industrial grind, with highs and lows and energy to match. His dreadlocks whip around as he moves with the music. Kyle belts out three solid songs before taking a break. At the end he is breathing heavy, with a sheen of perspiration over an impish grin. As he steps down from the stage, and the DJ switches to a rock mix, Kyle waves down a bartender and orders his third beer. The bar is alive with emotion tonight. It's a perfect night for a Harvest.