LA to Vancouver
3 years in a row. LA.
This year, finally find my stride in this strange city.
The neighbourhood has changed. We’ve moved just a few blocks down. Makes all the difference. There is movement; not just cracked pavement, pale and empty. Pavement; sidewalk.
Pavement. Makes no sense.
Smoothie a day from Open Source Organic round the corner: ‘Home to the Gangster Vegan’.
There is a park on the hill where everyone runs. An honour system sits, a refrigerator, at the gates: refreshments and snacks and their prices, but no human keeper. Karma is keeper.
Little dogs a jingling, chasing their adoring masters, oblivious to the sinister circling of the ravens above.
Ladies with pristine eyebrows and thick hair bounce along, gossiping.
There is a yoga group in the grass.
Here I find myself each morning. Puffing up to a viewpoint.
On my way down I goggle Peter Katz running the same route. I stare as he determinedly passes, eyes only for the summit. Perhaps it is just the heat Or maybe Peter Katz really is in LA the same time as me.
A day later I am singing a beautiful song on his new record.
The Viper Room.
Infamous. A black velvet curtain reveals me in my specially bought, gold silk dress for a group of silhouettes.
Prepared for a reception verging on vague and fickle I bite into the set. Aware that, whether they listen or not, I am playing in an historic, legendary space.
The people surprise me. I can hear not a sound as I sing. They listen and listen well. They appreciate my being there.
I waffle about the stuff of legends. The trough of dreams. The casting into the future only just to see yourself in the rose tinted past. The Los Angeles fever.
The microphone has been wiped with a hot towel soaked in herby listerine. It smells good. No snot rocker sniffing.
We take to the rainbow rooms. Taylor Hawkins is eating pizza in a booth with two suited men. Botox is rife. Mullets and bell bottoms still exist.
Gary Lightbody and Danny Wallace are our new companions thanks to Colin who makes making friends look extra easy.
Danny tempts us in with the premise of a new book he releases in just 2 weeks.
I disappear with my rum to hear the covers band upstairs sing the Rolling Stones.
Among people. In happy solitude.
'You can’t always get what you want…’