More Deets about our Big 'Ol Week
Well, let's go back a few days to, say, my birthday party show at Dolores Park Cafe (cuz I wanna relive it a whole bunch on account of its acute fun-ness).
Here's the "illuminated set list" Brian Fahy created, featuring his graphic-novel-esque cartoon interpretations of the titles on our July 28, 2006 setlist...enjoy!!
What else about that lovely, fabulous, sublime night? There were sets by our buddies Judea Eden, Amy Meyers, and The Blame Sally Three. And of course, us. We debuted the new wry melancholia of "Girls Just Break Your Heart" (which was, technically, performed before, but just solo by wee me). And we indulged in a later than stricly wise after-party and awoke blearily to hurried packing of the van and departure for points south...well, L.A. And we arrived in plenty of time to make it to the Steve Allen Theatre and play for the nice folks who put on and/or come enjoy THE TOMORROW SHOW. Dana Gould did a bang-up hysterical set--although we were so sleep-deprived by that time that my chief memory is about a bit about a father & son bonding over their work at a sex-toy factory...yes. Very funny indeed.
And somehow, I must be absorbing a (perhaps undesirable) peculiar edginess from the comics, cuz when I am talking about how hard it is to park in the Bay Area, an audience member interrupts this intro to our tune, "Please Move Your Car" with the non-sequitur: "it's fucking cold in San Francisco". Without thinking I snap: "and dogs have soft fur, but I was talking about parking". Then the rest of the set I feel like a big 'ol hag. But the dude comes up to me later and apologizes for heckling me & I apologize for snapping back, but he says, "no, no that was cool". & I thus feel absolved of hagdom.
The Steve Allen Theatre is a nice space inside the Center For Inquiry West (a wondrous and mysterious organization encouraging historical & current free-thinkingness--much needed in these times). The theatre space itself is presided over by a bust (that's at least 3 times larger than life) of the late Steve Allen. Although--I hear he did have a prodiguous head in real life, but one assumes it was not THAT big.
In the morning after a meager amount of rest we head to The Joint on Pico in West L.A. for our set at the International Pop Overthrow Festival. It sounds quite nice in the club and David Bash the promoter is very welcoming--as are our dear friends and new fans in the club. Yay--we finally played in Los Angeles after a long hiatus!! We go eat lots of great deli foods with friends and family and all is well (especially my bagel and lox--yum!) And soon enough we go back up highway 5 towards SF, past Magic Mountain, past Lost Hills (yes, Lost Hills: Sparrows Point's favorite exit), past "Cow-schwitz" (simply horrible), past the windmills, over the San Mateo bridge. & Home. My head aches from the Central Valley sun, Gary's tooth hurts, and Andrew wants a steak (astonishingly enough). But we are home! & We have a whole day until the next gig.
Wednesday finds us in lovely foggy Pacifica (if you haven't guessed: I hate the sun--it burns it burns). We soundcheck with the wonderfully capable crew of Pacifica TV, and as soon as the shows starts we are whisked into the magical, beatnik-y, stream-of-consciouness, fuguey state of ecstasy that is the Bruce Latimer Show. We play some grooves over which he riffs. We then play our mini-set. He interviews me. I am delighted (and bewildered) when he hands me a cup of orange juice calling it "panther urine". He calls me a talented woman, to which I reply "back at you'. Oops. I didn't mean to call you a talented woman, Bruce--oh, you knew what I meant, right?
And then we head home after another big 'ol hard day's night.
Here's the "illuminated set list" Brian Fahy created, featuring his graphic-novel-esque cartoon interpretations of the titles on our July 28, 2006 setlist...enjoy!!
What else about that lovely, fabulous, sublime night? There were sets by our buddies Judea Eden, Amy Meyers, and The Blame Sally Three. And of course, us. We debuted the new wry melancholia of "Girls Just Break Your Heart" (which was, technically, performed before, but just solo by wee me). And we indulged in a later than stricly wise after-party and awoke blearily to hurried packing of the van and departure for points south...well, L.A. And we arrived in plenty of time to make it to the Steve Allen Theatre and play for the nice folks who put on and/or come enjoy THE TOMORROW SHOW. Dana Gould did a bang-up hysterical set--although we were so sleep-deprived by that time that my chief memory is about a bit about a father & son bonding over their work at a sex-toy factory...yes. Very funny indeed.
And somehow, I must be absorbing a (perhaps undesirable) peculiar edginess from the comics, cuz when I am talking about how hard it is to park in the Bay Area, an audience member interrupts this intro to our tune, "Please Move Your Car" with the non-sequitur: "it's fucking cold in San Francisco". Without thinking I snap: "and dogs have soft fur, but I was talking about parking". Then the rest of the set I feel like a big 'ol hag. But the dude comes up to me later and apologizes for heckling me & I apologize for snapping back, but he says, "no, no that was cool". & I thus feel absolved of hagdom.
The Steve Allen Theatre is a nice space inside the Center For Inquiry West (a wondrous and mysterious organization encouraging historical & current free-thinkingness--much needed in these times). The theatre space itself is presided over by a bust (that's at least 3 times larger than life) of the late Steve Allen. Although--I hear he did have a prodiguous head in real life, but one assumes it was not THAT big.
In the morning after a meager amount of rest we head to The Joint on Pico in West L.A. for our set at the International Pop Overthrow Festival. It sounds quite nice in the club and David Bash the promoter is very welcoming--as are our dear friends and new fans in the club. Yay--we finally played in Los Angeles after a long hiatus!! We go eat lots of great deli foods with friends and family and all is well (especially my bagel and lox--yum!) And soon enough we go back up highway 5 towards SF, past Magic Mountain, past Lost Hills (yes, Lost Hills: Sparrows Point's favorite exit), past "Cow-schwitz" (simply horrible), past the windmills, over the San Mateo bridge. & Home. My head aches from the Central Valley sun, Gary's tooth hurts, and Andrew wants a steak (astonishingly enough). But we are home! & We have a whole day until the next gig.
Wednesday finds us in lovely foggy Pacifica (if you haven't guessed: I hate the sun--it burns it burns). We soundcheck with the wonderfully capable crew of Pacifica TV, and as soon as the shows starts we are whisked into the magical, beatnik-y, stream-of-consciouness, fuguey state of ecstasy that is the Bruce Latimer Show. We play some grooves over which he riffs. We then play our mini-set. He interviews me. I am delighted (and bewildered) when he hands me a cup of orange juice calling it "panther urine". He calls me a talented woman, to which I reply "back at you'. Oops. I didn't mean to call you a talented woman, Bruce--oh, you knew what I meant, right?
And then we head home after another big 'ol hard day's night.
posted by Margrit | 1:52 AM
2 Comments:
Speaking of Steve Allen, I really loved his book "How to Make Love to Steve Allen". Great stuff.
HAPPY belated Birthday, Margrit! A sucky thing about NY is that it's True Margrit-less. Oh well.
we will try to make NYC True Margrity as often as possible...(and thanks for the birthday wishes!)
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