Ode to an Aging Rock Critic

Not so long ago, I wrote a number of freelance concert reviews for a local music blog. It was a pretty sweet gig: see a show for free, take a few blurry photos, and scribble notes during the set like a true music expert. After returning home from the bar/club/hipster lair, I would transcribe my scribblings into an overly-detailed account of the performance. 

The review was due at 8 AM the morning after the concert. Sometimes I wouldn't finish writing until after 4 AM. Then I'd lay awake in bed, physically exhausted, my mind still lit up with journalistic prose. This was the closest I came in school to pulling an all-nighter. Weeks later, a small paycheck would arrive in the mail. I have no idea if anyone besides my editor ever read the reviews. I did get to see some great bands for free, though. And some terrible bands.