A month into the COVID pandemic, I received a text: “Hey, we’ve got an idea.” It was from Jake Samuels, the talent booker for Space, the music venue in Evanston, my hometown. Space was going to try producing lawn shows, bringing artists to concertgoers’ homes for live outdoor performances. For me, as a musician who previously earned most of my money from touring, most notably with Superchunk and Hüsker Dü’s Bob Mould, early 2020 was a particularly stressful time. So I jumped at the opportunity. I did 53 lawn shows from May to November.

One of the shows was for a woman not familiar with my work. She hired me to play for her husband’s 70th birthday and asked me to perform a set of British Invasion songs. I grew up mostly with my dad, and he played U.K. rock bands on the stereo nonstop. These songs are deeply embedded in my brain. I prepped by reviewing what I already knew — “Norwegian Wood,” “Substitute,” “All You Need Is Love,” etc. — and learned others such as “Look Through Any Window,” “I Should Have Known Better,” “Waterloo Sunset,” and “Paint It Black.”

When I arrived at the home, host Jan told me, “This is a surprise for Mike — he has no idea you’ll be playing.” I set up my small PA and microphone stand in their driveway, facing the garage. The garage door was open and there were four chairs set up inside. A humble reminder of what the world looked like now. Gatherings were sparse and distant. This wasn’t Late Night With David Letterman. Or the Primavera Sound festival in Barcelona. Or the Hollywood Bowl. All of which I’d performed at. And yet, I couldn’t have been more excited. Or more thankful for the work.

Mike sauntered out of the house with a piece of birthday cake on a paper plate. He moved slowly, staring at me. It was safe to say he was confused.

Jan and Mike sat down in two of the chairs, and another couple sat in the others. Jan and Mike’s adult son stood behind them. I played the first song. I can only describe their reaction as “golf clap.” I tried another song. A little bit more enthusiasm.

After the third song, Mike said, “The first time I heard that song, I was riding my bike in Yorkshire.” Fourth song. “There was a youth center we hung around, and that song came on the radio. We couldn’t believe what we were hearing.” I was playing the soundtrack to Mike’s childhood.

Near the end of the set, I started playing “House of the Rising Sun.” Mike put his hand up and said, “Stop!” Did Mike hate the Animals? There was a long silence. He stood up and said, “This one’s going to be a duet,” and he went down to his basement to get his guitar. After we performed the song together, Mike told me he hadn’t played with another musician in 48 years.

The lawn shows continued throughout 2020. Space provided a steady stream of them, and I booked many on my own that fell outside Space’s radius. I did a birthday party in a Chicago yard for a guy who requested ’80s punk. The set list included “Six Pack” (Black Flag), “Operation” (Circle Jerks), and “I Just Want to Have Something to Do” (Ramones). I played these shows with my Stratocaster Plus through a Fender Hot Rod Deluxe III, so I was surprised that a dog sat directly in front of me at a lawn concert in Evanston. She stayed patiently, right in earshot of my amp, staring at me for four or five songs. It was puzzling for both me and the attendees — until I remembered that I had left dog treats in my back pocket for our puppy, Juniper.

Space booked a lawn show for me in Wilmette for hosts who wanted me to play only classic rock. It wasn’t my preference to do just covers but I needed the work. Space sent an employee to the gig to help out, and he stood at the back of the lawn. As soon as I started, it was apparent that no one was listening — I was background music. They were indifferent. There was a group of four standing 10 feet away with their backs to me, casually chatting. I couldn’t resist acting up. I played “All You Need Is Love.” For eight minutes. I told a long made-up story about the Who, introduced the next song as a favorite by them, and then played my own “Untry Love.” For 10 minutes. No one noticed except the Space employee, who was doubled over laughing.

Chicago Mastering Service studio manager Andrew Nicolaou asked me to perform in his yard for his wedding anniversary. It was another small gathering: Andrew, his wife, their 4-year-old daughter, and a couple who lived nearby. He and his wife had their first dance to the Velvet Underground and Nico’s “I’ll Be Your Mirror,” so he asked me to play it. When I did, the couple rose from their plastic lawn chairs and danced in the grass. Halfway through the song, their daughter joined them, holding each of their hands.

One Saturday morning, Jake from Space texted me saying he had a last-minute birthday party show for that night. He warned me that the host was eccentric and partial to piano bar songs. I, of course, accepted the gig regardless.

The location was a mansion on the lake in Evanston. I set up in the backyard, per usual, while the six guests sat at a table up on a large concrete patio. I couldn’t see them from where I was positioned. The host told me to start and said, “Please don’t be offended” — they would be eating dinner at the table while I played.

I opened with an up-tempo original. Nothing. Silence. Another up-tempo original. Still crickets from the patio — but a smattering of applause from the neighbors! I couldn’t see them through the 10-foot-high evergreen privacy shrubs.

Perhaps a Beatles song would engage the aloof guests? Wrong again. The host may have sensed my frustration, because he walked down from the patio to me and leaned in close. “I’m sorry my friends are a shitty audience for you,” he said. I thought he was about to send me home. “I like that Beatles song. Do you know anything else we might recognize?”

Earlier that day, I had looked up piano bar songs. I’ve never been to a piano bar, and I didn’t understand that world, but I took the work seriously, and I learned two of the most popular tunes in the milieu: “Rocket Man” and “Sweet Caroline.” I couldn’t play those so early in the set, though, because I’d have nothing like them to follow. Instead, I sang “Let’s Go” by the Cars, and to my surprise, the host’s girlfriend walked down and danced on the grass in front of me.

I ran with that theme for a while: “Message in a Bottle,” “Surrender,” “The Waiting,” etc. Soon all six guests had gathered near, singing with me. When I closed with the two piano-bar sing-alongs, the supportive neighbors joined us, bringing three puppies that rolled and pounced on each other.

My last two lawn shows of 2020 were on November 7. The second one was for the neighbor of my friend Matt Walker, best known for playing drums with Morrissey, the Smashing Pumpkins, and Garbage. He and his wife had recommended me. I was all set to go. But Joe Biden and Kamala Harris were about to address the nation after their election win had been announced. We watched the speeches, and then I performed in the chilly fall air.