Tasmanian Angels

Wednesday, August 4

The guys arrive at my place a mere two hours later than they said they would and we’re off to Los Angeles (actually, our first southern Cal date is in Sherman Oaks at a fancy schmancy restaurant). Andrew drives like the wind through the central valley. It is boiling hot today (you guessed it, we have no AC), and with the aromas from Cowschwitz, Pea Soup Andersen's, and other loathsome Hwy 5 landmarks, we are glad to make serious tracks.

We arrive at our host’s abode—once again the lovely Lynn is putting us up/putting up with us. Overcome with a crippling torpor we drape ourselves on the furniture for a wee rest before the shower queue begins.

Soon enough we are off to Sherman Oaks. When we get to Cafe Cordiale we do a walk –through. Well. White tablecloths. Low lighting, hushed tones. We’re gonna bust up this quilting-bee,  neighbors and gentlefolk.

We start loading in our gear, and one of the other performers, Rod Fritz (who is here all the way from Australia), arrives. We feel like we are old friends, since we’ve been shooting posts, emails, and info back and  forth on facebook and reverbnation .  His girlfriend, Tania from Tasmania, is totally bubbly, charming, and blessed with good looks beyond mere mortals; within a few moments we are all getting along famously & sipping drinks at the bar. Shortly this particular configuration alters, because my “uncle”  and “aunt” Phil and Mary show up; we repair to our own table to chat. Meanwhile, Athena Murray starts up her set—and a very excellent set it is.

Rod gets up next and sings like and angel (and with much stage presence). I had checked out some of his tunes online, but he sounds even better in person. Tania and he beam at each other while he plays. She tells me about each song.

She says:

“ Oh this one is the absolute BEST” and “This one makes me cry” and other such commentary. Aw, cute. She takes a break from shooting pics of Rod to pose for my camera.

Then it is time for True Margrit to stand in front of the red curtains.  Ooh red. We feel kind of swanky. The sound is quite nice and we play through our set with the volume down a few notches from eleven (but just a few)--Andrew has a smaller kit than usual, and is hitting the skins with blastix instead of sticks. We will not alarm digesting diners—well, not too much. Tonight’s version of our new tune,  “ Comforting the Castaways”, is particularly tasty.  We dedicate our closing song to Mary and Phil due to it being their anniversary, and then the show is over.

We sell a few CDs, sign up a few new fans on the mailing list, say farewells to our peeps, and meanwhile Tania tries on, selects, and purchases one of our t-shirts. She and Rod are coming up to San Francisco this weekend and they assure us they will come to Bottom of the Hill and grace us with their friendly faces. Rejoicing at that thought, we ride forth towards Lynn’s house where we’ll soon enough get to slumber.