I was doing a Canadian tour one time and one of the gigs was in Wabush, Labrador, a mining town in the far, far north. So far North, in fact, it's on the same latitude as Hudson's Bay. The temperature was 61 degrees below zero and, wouldn't you know it, the gig was in an ice rink. No, I'm not making this up. Really, I'm not. The people in the audience were sitting on the little school chairs on the ice and wearing parkas with giant hoods that stuck out about a foot in front of their faces like the ones you saw in "Fargo." Plus, mittens the size of snow shovels. When they clapped, it sounded like a herd of walruses attacking a pillow.
A normal set on that tour was about sixteen songs. That night it was six. Ever try to play your latest "I Love you So Much I Could Move to Labrador, Honey" ballad when the liquid dripping from your nose freezes before it hits your shoes?