Quartet. You are also at the Scheune, which tonight is a barn with a portico.
It's fun not to know what's coming next, like walking hay-bestrewn out of a barn and finding yourself under a portico. Or strolling along under a portico and becoming suddenly and pungently aware of livestock. In the middle of the next song your fingers are oily from melted mozzarella. Two songs on and you can smell kaluha and camels. Taste Newcastle. Contemplate the aesthetics of chipped nail polish (which I've decided is the only way to wear "It's khaki time!").
They've mastered synesthesia. They know the way to my heart and other parts is through my ears.
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