The coronavirus might have silenced summer concerts, but it has not stifled a husband-and-wife team from St. Louis who take their show on the road every night via social media, not to make money, but to lighten the spirits of others during the lockdown.
Paul Hurst is a former superintendent and one of five co-owners of Greenspro, the Missouri-based distributor of products to the turf industry. Together, he and wife Kristie are known on the local club scene as "Midlife", and they have been playing local establishments for years.
"We knew some guys who were playing bars and restaurants," Paul said. "And we'd play for them during their breaks."
"And we shouldn't have," Kristie interjected. "Because we were terrible. We were embarrassingly bad."
They must have gotten better, because their side hustle grew to about 200 performances in 2019, including a long-term booking at the Four Seasons Hotel in St. Louis. That job came to a halt after Missouri Gov. Mike Parson implemented the state's shelter-in-place order on April 3 in response to the Covid-19 virus.
It was after urging by Jeff Baxter, one of the partners in the Greenspro operation, that the Hursts post their work online. Since April 5, the couple has been recording what they call daily Covid Sessions in the kitchen of their home and posting them online. They began April 5 with "Believe" by Cher and just posted session No. 40 on Thursday - "East Bound and Down" by Jerry Reed, a tune better known as the theme song from Smokey and the Bandit.
In their kitchen "studio" often can be seen a beer or glass of wine that is never full.
"Our escape is music," Kristie said. "We just try to turn off everything that is happening and go into our music."
Their covers include other groups like 38 Special, The Band, Fleetwood Mac, Steve Miller, Tracy Chapman and many more. Much of why they share their music online is to provide a brief moment of escape for others.
Most of their daily sessions get several dozen "likes", but their inaugural video has been viewed nearly 700 times. Another, Kristie said, has been watched more than 3,500 times.
"Not bad for a couple of nobodies," she said.
We didn't develop talent, we developed courage. Those first two years, I was terrified every time we performed. Then two years into it, I figured they're not throwing food at us, or kicking us out. Maybe we're not that bad after all.
"Music can be a very emotional subject," Kristie continued. "I hate to use the word escapism, but it is an avenue for us to escape, and we hope others, even if they are laughing at us over how out of tune we are, we are hoping it triggers something in them that leads to joy, happiness or laughter. That is our intention.
"Music has been a welcome respite for us, and for those who have had the pleasure of listening to us, or have suffered through our videos."
Putting the exclamation point on how informal these sessions are have been the occasional beer or glass of wine visible on the counter. That has morphed into vendors sending can holders, caps and other swag. Their unofficial sponsors have included the likes of Brandt, Nufarm and Syngenta, and they are scheduled to play at this year's Carolinas GCSA Show - if there is one.
The Hursts met while both were attending the University of Missouri. Kristie began singing in church choirs when she was about 6 years old. Paul picked up a guitar a dozen years ago, but wasn't in much shape to remember a lot about the experience.
He was visiting a friend when he picked up a guitar and the two played "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd. He had been drinking, but he enjoyed playing enough to want more.
I'm no Eddie Van Halen.
"I was drunk," he said. "And as I walked home I swore I was going to teach myself to play guitar."
He taught himself to play through a series of online instructional videos by Marty Schwartz.
Their group, Midlife, was formed as Paul asked Christie to sing along as he tried to learn songs.
"I'm no Eddie Van Halen," he said.
Maybe not, but thankfully Kristie sounds a lot more like Natalie Merchant than she does David Lee Roth.
Were in not for all those years of paying their dues in St. Louis clubs, Midlife probably never makes it onto Twitter.
"We didn't develop talent, we developed courage," Kristie said. "Those first two years, I was terrified every time we performed. Then two years into it, I figured they're not throwing food at us, or kicking us out. Maybe we're not that bad after all."
