Dr. Dog was the last band I saw live before the quarantine started, back on February 27th at The Novo in Los Angeles. It was a great show, as anyone who has ever seen them would expect. I was only introduced to them a few years ago, when some of my best friends, appalled that I was not familiar, bought me a ticket to see them at The Theater at the Ace Hotel, also in downtown LA. I purposely did no research going into the experience, knowing how effusive they had been in their endorsements, and went in completely blind. There are quite a few people in my life who know that I will attend any live show that they are interested in, and this has frequently led me to new areas of fandom. Dr. Dog was no exception. In another example of what has become a common experience in my life, I was blown away by the depth of the catalog of an indie rock powerhouse that had thus far escaped my attention. As fun as it is to be on a long-lasting journey with your favorite musicians, I also really relish the discovery of artists with many albums for me to pore over at my leisure. Looking at a body of work retroactively gives you such an interesting picture of the path that they took and the times that our paths could have crossed and didn’t. I’ve probably mentioned before the theory that music finds you when you’re ready for it. It’s an important for someone who obsesses over their favorites to think this way, or you could easily drive yourself crazy thinking about the missed opportunities to see bands that you came to love too late.