Over Labor Day weekend I flew down to Southern California - Mike L was having a wine party and we were going to record music and play games. After getting spousal permission I bought tickets. Good call.
I biked to the Portland airport, took a nonstop to Burbank and then took trains down to Long Beach. Travel hack in Southern California: take the train, even if everyone thinks you are crazy to do so. I get to Mike and Michelle's charming new place and drink wine.
The details are a little fuzzy at this point, but the next day we drive up to record Kanq Qixarth music in Linus's studio, aka a garage in a morning-glory-strewn back yard:
I've played music with these guys for three decades!!! Mike's son Linus and his super talented bandmates join in. Someone gets the bright idea to write a song based on a Rick James song:
Give it to me baby
Give me that sweet funky stuff
but with the opposites of everything. Being the walking thesaurus of the party I come up with a lot of the words:
Take that from you daddy
Return that sour orthodox ether
Needless to say it ends up being a super noisy 20-minute funk song. Ridiculous. Now I want to hear it.
Wine party later in the back yard. Everyone is talking about everything. Endless wine and endless talk about wine. The mosquitoes get one whiff of my blood and tell all their friends. I hold grandbaby Charlie and my old baby-holding reflexes kick in instantly, and we are fast friends. Conversations about digital activism, kids in college, babies, music of course, graduate school. I forget. It's a lot.
I play a show in the garage and it is surprisingly good. Previous wine party shows of mine have been legendary in the disaster sense, but this time I play good songs somewhat competently (!), including a cover of this one after introducing everyone to it at breakfast that morning:
Linus's band Kiss Hello plays afterwards, complex and rich sophistipop, almost prog, Matt somehow live-triggering my beloved old drum machine the Boss DR-110. Positive words about their album Summerdata to follow soon enough. The night ends at some point, I guess?!
The next day Mike says he's never going to do one of those parties again. I've heard that before. We play Agricola and jam surprisingly quietly in the front room.
L. takes me up to someplace near Pasadena or something to catch a train to my Erbenb in North Hollywood. I'm not sure it saves me any time, but it's a good ride and it's good to catch up. I take the train, and when I get out of the subway the sun is going down over Lankershim Blvd. I walk and walk in the dimming light and dodge cars and walk. Eventually I get to a room with bright lights and a television. I drop my bag and head out to try to catch the pupusa truck before they close. It drives away as I approach. Some sleep happens.
I wake up super early to walk to the airport. 100% would recommend walking several miles to the Burbank airport at 4:30 a.m. after not sleeping. A gas station playing "Take My Breath Away." Ladies setting up roadside desayuno carts, bacon smells in with the night eucalyptus and traffic smells. Transmission towers tingling in the night. The sun just starting to rise over the airport.
Back in Portland. My bike is still there. I ride it home. The next day my kid starts third grade. We are back in the world.
