Showtime at John & Peter’s Wednesday Invitational
One night at the venerable New Hope, PA rock club as it marks 50 years
By Bennett Kelly
John & Peter’s, a mere pick toss from the Delaware River in New Hope, Pennsylvania, is the longest continuously running rock ‘n roll club in the country.
It’s one of those places where magic happens, every night. Even Wednesdays. And this year, it’s turned 50.
Both town and bar are living museums of bygone days. Gen. Washington made his famed Christmas crossing just a couple miles south of here, and New Hope is still dotted with colonial structures.
Two hundred years after Washington, John Larsen bought a little dress shop on Main Street, and purposefully styled its new music room after a Greenwich Village coffeehouse, creating an outpost of that New York era just as it began slipping away.
John’s Place arose with coffee and folk music, but needing to make a buck he brought aboard his brother-in-law Peter Price, and turned the place over to liquor and electronic noise.
The new name and format took root, and by 1992 John & Peter’s was already being described as “venerable,” entrenched as a critical path of music history in the Northeast, within shouting distance of both Philadelphia and New York.
Little has changed since 1972. The entrance is tiny and skinny, with patrons shuffling into the small bar room that seats eight butts. The ceilings are six feet tall and change. Down the couple steps into the music room, small booths abut the front of the stage, foregoing any prospect of a fourth wall between performer and voyeur.
There’s just one skinny and continuous passageway from the front door to the back exit, through the bar room and music room. The tight corners are an equalizer, as there’s no hiding from anybody. But nobody’s really looking or judging here anyway; the mark of a good dive.
Booths at the sides of the stage are single-rowed like church pews. The stage backdrop is red brick and topped by a stained glass John & Peter’s light box, one of many of those glass effects about, from the wall art to the Tiffany light shades, all seemingly lifted from your grandparents’ Nixon-era parlor room. Framed and autographed concert posters, 8 ½ by 11 and mostly from the ’80s, are all around. Decades of stickers too.
So, it’s got charm. It’s possibly the most charming institution in this charming river town, especially for creatures of the night, and especially for music fans. And with all the gentrifying change happening in town these past five to ten years, John & Peter’s remains an oasis for anyone who just wants to sit comfortably in a familiar place with only a fistful of dollar bills.
Tonight’s guides can count their time spent here in decades. They are Bill Fowler, frontman and emcee of the Invitational house band, on guitar and vocals, and sound engineer Fred Moore, owner of Moore Sound in Doylestown, PA. They’ve partnered in running The Invitational, a three-hour jam played to a packed basement from 9 pm sharp to 12am sharp, every Wednesday since 2014.
Bill’s been coming through here ever since he was a beer bottle cap-collecting tyke, and then as a hustling twenty-something with his 90’s punk bands: False Front, the MoistBoyz, Sound of Urchin, and the Dean Ween Group.
The latter two bands remain fairly active, and he works by day as a concrete inspector. “I may look like a rock star, but I have a regular day job,” he jokes at a table by the stage before the show. Bill and Fred arrive around 5:30, to eat, relax, have a smoke, and set up the gear. But also to snag one of the few parking spots behind the bar.
Bill comes in from Lambertville, and you could probably see his house across the river from John & Peter’s if there were no trees. He calls the club his home away from home.
Hometown rockers Ween have played here countless times, formative in their story alongside the City Gardens venue in nearby Trenton. Dean Ween, aka Mickey Melchiondo, had a hand in fostering the Invitational and played it with his friends Fowler and Moore for years, though he’s come by only a few times since Covid.
They credit tonight’s keyboardist Bill Levinson with starting the Invitational in 2008. It was originally more like an open mic with a recurring core band. Somewhere in there they instituted the rule where you have to know what you're doing, Bill says, to fend off the people who would show up and think they can just jump in on anything.
“If you come here with a gameplan, like ‘Oh I know this song, I know this song, does your bass player know this song,’ then that makes it a lot easier,” Bill says. “Or bringing your own bass player makes it really easy.”
It was Dean Ween who brought Fred and Bill into it, around 2014. “Mickey basically called me and said ‘I’m hosting the Invitational this week, I need some help and come play with me and stuff,’” Bill says.
“So I started coming and kept doing it, and doing it, and doing it. And then when he stopped coming regularly, I started writing the set lists,” Bill says. “And it just turned into us doing that, and he stopped coming pretty much altogether.”
Bill is now the official ringleader, emcee, lead singer and lead provocateur. It just kinda fell into his lap, Fred says. “It was either that or it wasn’t gonna happen.”
“Now some people say the power’s gone to my head!” Bill laughs.
They’ve had hall of famers join the band for periods, elevating the jawn to something greater than a house band cranking out rock covers.
“We used to have Mike Hampton from Parliament Funkadelic play here regularly,” Bill says. “But now he’s back in Parliament Funkadelic. He used to show up here every Wednesday… Blessed when he’d walk in the room because he's amazing, one of the best guitarists in the world.
“Of course Mickey from Ween. And we also have had John Popper play here,” the harp-toting frontman of Blues Traveler, of local origin. “I wasn't here that night,” Bill says.
Vini ‘Mad Dog’ Lopez from Bruce Springsteen has played it twice, Fred adds.
“And then you know, shit I think the people in the house band are top-notch players,” says Bill. “You got Kevin [Rovner], he’s an amazing guitar player, he can play most anything. His parents raised him on classic rock. It's very rare that I stump him, that there’s something that he don’t know.”
“And if he doesn't know it, he knows it by the time he gets here,” Fred says.
“The same with Stacey [Dougherty]. When she learns something, it's gold. She’s so good, she's such a great bass player. And then our drummer Tyler [Chiara], he’s the same way, he was raised on classic rock. Like when he first showed up here he’s like, ‘Jeeze these guys play all the music I like,’” Bill says.
“So, we just got lucky with the band we have, they're all so good. Ceilidh [Madigan] on the saxophone, he’s top notch as well. They surprise me every week. That’s the best thing about this, I’ll just sit there and listen. It's awesome. And I just met them all from playing the Invitational. The only person I knew before the invitational was Fred, and Mickey. And Levinson.”
They’ll go through a dozen songs over the course of the three hours, a set break in the middle. Classic rock jams and back wall cuts, mostly all extended well past the original track length.
That’s just kind of how things developed, Bill says.
“It's kind of like a jazz format, like everybody gets to solo. And then when that happens and four or five guys are soloing in each song, then they start becoming fifteen-minute songs or whatever,” he laughs.
And rest assured that’s no drag, for musician or crowd. “Some nights I call it the Invitational Explosion,” Bill says. “Some nights it doesn't matter what song it is, I think it's gonna be cut and dry, like three minutes and all of a sudden it'll turn into a ten-and-a-half minute jam. ‘Everyday People’ by Sly and the Family Stone, a couple times that's blown up. ‘50 Ways to Leave Your Lover,’ that's very cut and dry but they turned that into a jam one night.”
“And then they'll do a song like ‘Low Spark of High Heeled Boys’ that's already a long song,” Fred says. “I've seen them do almost a half hour! I think you broke a half hour one time. Thirty-one minutes.”
“I watched a good version of that today,” Bill says. “I think it was ‘94, remember when they toured with the Dead? They were better than the Dead.”
“Way better.”
“The Dead were so disappointing that night, I was like god dammit, Traffic were better than the Dead!”
“I saw four of those shows,” Fred says.
“The best thing about Traffic, they had a new album out, they did one song. Everything else was classics. It was amazing. And then Jerry came out and jammed with them on ‘Dear Mr. Fantasy.’”
“And ‘Gimme Some Lovin.’”
“Yeah, yeah, right. It was killer,” Bill says.
“I can still picture it. I can remember the first time he did it, he was used to doing it in the key the Dead do it in, and Steve Winwood does it in a completely different key,” Fred says. “The Dead do it in G and Winwood does it in A or F Sharp or something, something weird. The Dead were like a whole step slower.”
“So that Phil could sing it!”
There are live bands throughout the week and the weekend at John & Peter’s, but the Wednesday jam is an anchor, tying it all together, bringing forth the living room spirit of John & Peter’s. It’s a club that instantly lifts all comers to a higher place by virtue of its existence, and by the care its people put into it.
“That’s the thing about this place,” Bill says. “This place is one of those places where magic happens. That's the only way I can explain it. The stage is like conducive to things. I've played with so many different bands in here, and it's always one of the greatest stages to play.”
It's also a great place for an audience, which practically gets to sit on stage with whichever touring or local group rolls through.
“I love seeing bands here because it's a great place to see a band,” Bill says. “And now you have top-notch sound guy Fred working the sound, so it sounds amazing in here!”
“Thank you!” says Fred.
“It used to sound like boot sometimes, years ago.”
“The new owners got the new PA and the new lights and stuff,” Fred says, crediting the trio of longtime employees that bought the bar with John and Peter’s blessings in 2017.
John (95 years old) and Peter (85) are still kicking, by the way. “Always a great experience with them,” Bill says.
Bill and Fred also gave tribute to two departed members that were integral to making the scene: Jim Woolsey, the “unofficial mayor of New Hope- the partying mayor” and also the Dalai Lama’s computer guy; and Ralph Smith, a New Hope legend and roadie to Aerosmith and Paul Simon.
“And then Mickey, Deaner, got all the gear donated,” Bill says. “The drum set, the whole back line was donated to Mickey,” through his various sponsors.
“I’m trying to get him to give me that Jerry Garcia Fender for Christmas,” Bill laughs. “I don't know if he's gonna bite. I already put the hints in.”
The Invitational band used to rehearse at Mickey’s studio, every once in a while if they were learning new or difficult stuff. Sometimes they’d go upstairs at John & Peter’s before the gig, into the green room. (Once plush with sleepable leather couches, it's now mostly storage with a few chairs. But many doobies met their demise up there over the years.)
These days the musicians just arrive a bit early, tune up, level set, eat their meals. “You’d have to have everybody here at the same time, that's the thing,” to rehearse, Bill says. “Rounding up musicians is like herding cats, you know what I mean? It's not easy.”
But it’s easier here. The Wednesday gig is about as punctual as one can find. It starts at 9:00 p.m. sharp and ends at midnight, no later. There’s not a whole lot of hanging around by patrons afterward, just the band breaking down its gear. It is a Wednesday after all, and Thursday at that hour.
By 8:40 on the last Wednesday in August, all the booths are occupied with chattering patrons. Quesadillas, cheesesteaks, chicken fingers, beers, whiskeys, coca colas, and highballs are brought down by the waitress Stephanie. Levinson the keyboardist hugs some old friends. Bill gives his maroon Gibson SG a few more plucks from his seat on the stage.
“Hey Steph, can I get a cream soda, and some waters please, when you get a chance?” he asks into the mic. “Billy’s dry, Billy’s dry. And a water for Tyler as well please.” He says hello to patrons and friends as they settle in.
Dougherty on bass stands behind Bill. Rovner on guitar stands in the middle, decked out in Mets gear, with Jacob DeGrom mowing down the first-place Dodgers on the barroom TV. Levinson faces the stage from his keyboard station at Rovner’s right. Chiara’s drums are planted beneath the glass John & Peter’s marquee. They’re all tuning up while Bill holds court.
“Alright while we’re waiting here, hello everybody, welcome to the Invitational!” Bill says at 9:00 sharp. “Gonna be a hot night! In the farmhouse tonight…” The lights dim, the crowd begins to hoot and holler.
“Tonight’s show is sponsored by the Fowler Foundation, where our motto is, Would You Like to Donate Today?” he says over laughs and murmurs.
“Hey Billy, what’s our theme tonight?” one of the band shouts.
“Oh we have a Green theme tonight,” says Bill. “Our friend Teej, it was his birthday yesterday.” Cheers and claps and happy birthdays! follow.
“So we’re doing a special Green theme show, because he's been asking me to play this song by Fleetwood Mac for a couple years now, ‘The Green Manalishi,’ from the original Fleetwood Mac,” from before they all went crazy and before they added Buckingham and Nicks, he adds.
“So we’re gonna do one of the old ones, for Teej!” Bill says. “One of the biggest fans of the Invitational. He's been to every Invitational, I think he’s been to more Invitationals than me and Fred…”
There are some more teasing words exchanged between Teej and Bill. “I had to bust your balls a little bit Teej, we’re gonna play Green Manalishi for ya, you gotta take some flack.”
It’s a fair trade. They’re ready to lift off. People can hear what’s coming as the band finishes its tuneup. “It’s in F?” Bill asks of the opener’s intro. “Cool. I can play in F. Can try. Alright…”
Levinson queues in the electric organ. Someone calls it out right away, “Green Onions!”
It’s a worthy warmup. They double the Booker T. instrumental in playtime, and everybody gets a turn to loosen up and solo. Madigan joins on stage halfway through it, straps his sax over his shoulder and gets his yucks in too. Bill is rhythm guitar to Rovner’s lead but they both take a solo here. It gets a rowdy share of Wooooo’s and whistles and cheers and ow’s! from the crowd when it’s over. And Yeah’s and claps from the band too.
“I’m ready to play ball now,” says one of the musicians. “We’ve never played that here!”
“Green Onions…” Bill says over the applause.
“I didn't think I was ever gonna play that song in my life!” says Chiara. “I can't believe we played that song!”
“I saw the Grateful Dead do it one time,” Fred says, manning the intakes just off the corner of the stage.
Bill squawks a rubber chicken a couple times. He keeps a pair of rubber chickens and a little keychain-sized sound box on his amp, for sound effects throughout the evening. But the band moves right into song two, as requested by Teej, the Green Manalishi, starting with a rumbling intro riff, a long runway to Bill to take off from.
“Now when the daaay goes to sleep, and the full mooon looks…” he sings, accompanied by the heavy riffing after each line of the verse. Baaahh, de-de bah da, bah da, bah dahhhhh…
“The night is so blaa-ckk that the darkness cooks…” It’s heavy for Fleetwood Mac. It was covered even by Judas Priest.
“'Cause you're da Green Manalishi with the two prong crown…” Baaahh, de-de bah da, bah da, bah dahhhhh…
“All my tryin' is up, all your bringin' is dow-n…”
Stephanie passes through the room with an empty pitcher of beer, covered in stickers, to fill with tips for the musicians, tithe from the congregation.
“The Green Manalishiiiiiii…” says Bill when they’ve concluded, just shy of six minutes.
“Ai ya ya ya ya!” Someone hollers amidst the laughs and cheers.
“Man who’s out there making funny sounds?” Bill asks.
They transition to a softer number, still plenty loud. The sound fills the room and everybody can get their melancholy on, a little change up after the first couple of rockers, for “Green is the Colour” by Pink Floyd.
Acoustic on their album, it plays electric here and is just as poignant. Bill sings it, Madigan and Rovner both take long, roaring solos, and it just keeps going and going, catching musicians and patrons in a moment. It’s one of Pink Floyd’s easier to perform, Bill says later, being more of a feel song from amongst their older stuff. He was happy with their rendition.
“I’ll introduce the rocking team combo to you tonight,” Bill calls out over the clapping. “Once again we have Billy Levinson on the keyboards, Ceilidh Madigan on the saxophone,” each player receiving applause. “Tyler Chiara on the drums. Stacey Dougherty on the bass, Kevin Rovner on guitar, Billy Foster Fowler Johnson Rodriguez Campbell on the…” he snickers and doesn’t finish, lets it linger over the laughter.
They start on the next song. People catch on quickly, from the airy guitar, Tears for Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World.”
“We’re giving it away!” Chiara says while the band plays its tuneup.
“I only know parts of this song,” Bill says as he starts in on the picking, trying to get it straight. It builds slowly. The musicians come in, a thirty second intro when the album cut drops in after only four.
“Hold on!” Chiara says, spying a false start. “It starts with Billy [Levinson], gotta start with Billy,” he laughs. Levinson has to bust it open with that synthy-splash. But they’ve powered through this false start, there’s no stopping, and the band cascades in together.
“Welll-come tooo your lii-ife,” Fowler sings.
“There's no turning back…”
It’s a faithful interpretation, while they take another wrong turn at the bridge, and the song fades away after five minutes.
“That was a version of it…” Chiara jokes.
“That was a version,” Bill says over the hoots and hollers. “A dumb version… That turducken messed me all up man, I tell ya what. I don't know what happened…” But the crowd still enjoyed it, even if a band takes it mishaps personally.
“It's like the entire weight of all the edibles I ate before I went on stage hit me right before that song,” Bill confesses. “I was like Okay, I don't know where I’m at. Plus this song, it's got parts unto it!”
They slow it down again into a fourteen-minute rendition of Bob Dylan’s “One More Cup of Coffee,” which gives space for all of Madigan, Levinson and Rovner to all lift off.
“Shit,” says Bill afterwards, “I’ll tell ya man that Kevin Rovner boy, holy shit.”
“Yeah!” says the crowd.
“I know what you're all thinking, how do we bring it back down?” Fowler says. “It was like holy shit we were up in the stratosphere. I gotta bring it down, I got another verse! It sounds like it's gonna end,” he laughs. “That was awesome. I love my band.”
“Steph can I do a bottle please, when you get a chance,” says Rovner.
“I figured we’d bring it down from all this epic stuff and do a rock and roll song for ya,” Bill says. He sheds his guitar for the only radio cut of the night, a three-minute “Your Mama Don't Dance” by Loggins & Messina.
They attack it with gang vocals: “When evening rolls around, and it's time to go to town, where do you go? To rock and roll?”
Everybody here knows the answer; they’re already here. Bill sneaks in the jovial baritone “And it's all because”’s before the choruses.
“LOGGGINNNSS! LOGGGINNNSS!” he hollers afterwards. “Anybody watch Archer? Archer was obsessed with Kenny Loggins.”
“Oh K-Log?” Chiara says.
“K-Log. LOGGGINNNSS!”
A soda arrives for Bill. “Oh cool just in time to sing a song with a lot of high notes.”
“Green-haired lady?” someone jokes, deciphering the tuneup again.
“Moving swiftly along into the Green theme…” Bill says.
The whole funky backline shines, Levinson on organ and Dougherty on bass, with another long intro for Bill to get in the mood.
“Green-eyed lady, lovely laaady!” he sings sharply, slicing through the heavy, funky Sugarloaf hit.
“Strolling’ slowly towarrrds the su-unn…” Dahm-dah, de, dum-dah, de-deh-de-deh…
It’s a funk bomb and sets the room alight, the distinctive bassline sending people right back to 1970.
“I thought you were gonna break into the Munsters theme there for a second,” a patron says afterwards.
“Nah,” says Bill.
“I can see that,” another says. Dougherty plays a Munster-y bass riff for a laugh.
“A rowdy crowd at the Invitational tonight,” Bill says, to another rowdy response. “I like it, I like it. Excitement in the air.”
They charge through the Outlaws’ “Green Grass & High Tides” next, another epic tale with multiple intros and breaks.
“In a plaaace, you onnly dream of,” Bill sings, “Where your sooul is always free…”
They let it rip for thirteen minutes, and Rovner gets to romp through another wicked solo.
“Mr. Kevin Rovner, ladies and gentlemen,” Bill shouts out through the applause. “I apologize, I didn't go long enough in that one part, and I got lost. I was lost… People, I didn't have a nap this afternoon, I'm old. I didn't have my nappy! I didn't get my nappy today, I had business, they offered me money and I had to take it, what are you gonna do... Gotta get them duckets, you know. Let's see, what are we doing next…”
“Ya look fresh Bill, ya look fresh,” Levinson says.
“I still have my youthful glow,” he answers. And he turns it on for the final number of the set, singing a silly song, performing as Kermit on “Bein’ Green.” He almost bails on it, but Levinson forces the issue by diving in from his keyboards, Chiara rattling the edge of his snare.
“When green is all there is to be, it could make you wonder why?” Bill solemnly sings.
“But, why wonder? Why wonder, Billy? I am green, and it'll do fine…”
He mimics Kermit’s nasally e’s and n’s with precision. But the lyrics give out on Bill’s sheet, and he cuts abruptly after the second verse.
“There’s nothing left folks!” he says in Kermit voice and gets Levinson to taper it off.
“We’re gonna take a short break everybody. Everybody hang loose and thank you for coming, there’s gonna be more music, there’s a lot of guest jammers, people are coming to play, and it's gonna be awesome, so everybody just hang loose and have fun. ‘It's not easy being green…’” he sings again.
Instruments disengage at 10:20 over hoots and hollers from the crowd, more chatter from the band.
“This afternoon I 86’d that whole thing,” Bill says, “I was like I can't do it, I can't do the voice. And I did alright. I studied it.”
“Come on, he's doing a Kermit thing up here!” Chiara cries out for more applause.
Fowler goes out back to entertain and smoke, along with a few of the others. Rovner and Levinson stay on for the second set, supporting five new musicians, the “Invitational” aspect of the show. The new band works through some Sam & Dave, some Tom Petty, Santana and a couple Sam Ryan originals, led on by Sam Ryan himself, seven songs total over forty minutes, before Fowler returns at 11:15 with the house band and with a PSA.
“Stephanie, did they come back?” he asks on mic. “Anybody see the blond dude that was sitting in the muscle tee and those people? They stiffed Stephanie… If you see him outside, clunk him over the head and drag him inside. Grab his ball and twist it, like that. Really show him. Grab a ball. Twist!” he demonstrates.
“The kid said he wanted to sit in on drums later tonight.” Chiara says, downhearted. “I told him to hang out…” Fowler says something to Chiara off mic.
“If anybody sees anyone who was sitting here earlier, shake ‘em down for $64 cause they owe Steph some money,” Chiara says.
“Twist the ball,” Bill says.
“Yeah plus 30% minimum,” Chiara says. “Jesus. Who does that?”
“Twist the ball, they’ll never do it again,” Bill says to the crowd. “Any time they think about stiffing somebody they’ll go ‘Ah my ball hurts,’ and they’ll never do it again. Twist the ball. That’s what I tell my boss at work. Everybody runs ragged over ya cause there’s no fear of punishment! Punish! That’s how things were set up in the Old Testament.”
The four stiffs in question were truly awful guests, this witness can confirm. A bunch of forty-somethings taking duck-faced selfies like thirteen-year olds, wearing sunglasses indoors, just hopelessly vain in a room otherwise devoid of pretentiousness. If they’re reading this, it’s not too late to make it right, and pay the tab. Otherwise, they heard the ringleader, their balls will be twisted!
Still, the show must go on. It’s 11:20, time left for four more songs.
They resume with “The Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys,” Traffic, a slow-burn naturally. The guitars are reverbing, the keys and bass are setting the mood, Chiara’s tapping the cymbals.
“If you see something that looks like a sta-rrr…
“And it's shooting up out of the grounnnd…
“And your head is spinn-ning, from a lou-d guitarrr…”
Rovner uses a little wah-wah on the man-in-the-suit riffing. It becomes a seventeen-minute romp, six longer than the album version.
“Whoever it was that stiffed the waitress, can suck an ibex’s booty hole,” Bill says afterwards. (An ibex is a wild goat). “An ibex!”
“Bill it’s good to see ya!” someone says.
They distort the guitars and start on the next one slowly, “Run Through the Jungle,” with classic, swampy Creedence riffing, descending notes after each verse line, all heavied up.
“Thought it waaas a nightmare…” Bill sings. Womp, da-na-na-na…
“Lord it was so true…” Womp, da-na-na-na…
“They told me don't go walkin’ slow, devil's onnnn the loose…” he howls. Hoots and hollers follow, and people call out their requests as the evening dwindles.
Rockestra! Sadae! Green Thoughts!
“Oh right I almost forgot, Sarah!” Bill says. “Sarah came all the way from ‘Chusetts, so she gets ‘Red Hot Mama.’”
“Thank you!” says Sarah, a writer friend of theirs.
“Aww,” and “Good!” says the crowd.
“I forgot on account of the edibles,” Bill mumbles, before cutting it loose, now sporting the armor of a ferocious Funkadelic song.
“Red hot mama was really baaad, she was badder than bad… bad as she wanna be!!!!
“Red hot mama was a real gaaaas, doin' it good, and doing it fast…
“She was… SMO-KINNN’!”
Bill checks the time. It’s 11:56. “I was just thinking the same thing,” he agrees off mic. “Alright y'all, thank y’all for coming we're gonna do one more song. It's what we usually open with but we did Green Onions, so we're gonna close with it.”
It’s clapped in by the drums: Wings’ “Rockestra Theme,” from an all-star Wings cast that included Pete Townshend and the Johns of Led Zeppelin, all assembled by McCartney to ask one question, the only lyric which they sing three times, each at its own break in the action:
“Why haven’t I had any dinnn-ner?” the Invitational band sings.
They like opening with it because it gets people’s attention, lets guests know the show’s started, and to come on in and sit, Bill says. And it's relatively short.
“Why haven’t I had any dinnn-ner?”
Bill mumbles it the third and final time to close out, right at 11:59, right on time.
“Thank you all, good night! “We did the Green Manalishi!” Bill exclaims.
“Ai yai yai yai yai!” someone hollers. There’s a long ovation, the room nearly as full as it was from its earlier peak.
The band starts to break down their gear amidst the applause, and guests shoot back out into that late night, into the empty midweek streets of little old New Hope. It’ll take Bill and Fred about an hour to head home themselves, after a little more crowd jiving.
“I bought these really horrible picks,” Bill says to the stragglers. “Don’t get picks made from this company, it's cheap and the paint’s already coming off, it's terrible. I got thin one’s just to give out.”
“Jesse wants a shitty pick,” one fan says.
“Na dude, it’s not a shitty pick, it's a Bill Fowler pick,” Jesse states. “Bill, can you hand it to me though?”
“Hahahaha.”
“The power’s going to my head, bro,” Bill says. “All the power, so much power.”
“The power of the Invitational compels you…” says the fan. “The Power of the Invitational Compels You!”
For more information on John & Peter’s, including a list of upcoming events, check out their website. You can also follow them on Instagram.
