When punk rockers grow up and get married in their forties, the celebration is bound to be a little different. The wedding reception was held upon the stage of a grand old theater in Buffalo, New York. Stylishly set tables with crisp white clothes and bright crystal were scattered across the wooden floor, with its stage markings and piles of ropes and velvet curtains swagged casually aside. We, the wedding guests, ate our wedding banquet up on that stage and looked out at hundreds of plush empty seats; we were a show with no audience.

On the stage full of tables there was a smaller stage for the wedding band. This was a revolving door of musicians who would get up from their guest tables at the appropriate song and wander up to join the band, for one number or maybe two. In between, one guitarist might hand her instrument to another, or a drummer might stand to make room for drummer number four of the evening. The lead singers changed as different wedding guests took their turn at the mic. ...

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