On the preview screen, the camera pans up the sax to its player's face as he launches into a solo. Then it's the bass player's turn. The camera is wandering somewhat, trying to find the best angle on the guy. Rogal delightedly pats Hughes on the back again as the song ends. Piano notes start to chime, and the source of the sound isn't on any of the monitors.
Sweat is good.
He means, of course, that it's a nice visual on the monitor in front of him. Meanwhile, right behind him, live in the control room, beads of sweat are sparkling on Rogal's own brow. Without seeming to realize it, the executive producer is boogieing down. An hour later, it's all over. He shakes his head, still flush with the vicarious thrill of the show.