What the Hell did we do with our day? I don’t even remember. Did I work the day I way? I must’ve. I’m sure we got things done, I’m sure we’ve made progress, I just can’t imagine what it was. Thank goodness for good gigs.
I was worried about the Rainbow Grill. It’s an awkward space and Los Angeles as a whole gives me a negative vibe. Anyplace where the standard of Living is so high that buying something standardized like a McDonalds hamburger costs a buck more leaves a worse taste in my mouth than the hamburger itself.
I’ve had a couple of friends run afoul of that increase of cost recently – a friend who got hired by a magazine that refused to pay her enough to Live in the city where they hired her (yeah, they showed her EXACTLY how much they valued her), and another friend who got a job that doubled her salary upon moving to the west cost only to find that she has less disposable income than she had before… Hell, I was offered a 6-figure salary to move to LA while I was working for Glovia…
Unfortunately, the payrate for a musician stays the same most anywhere you go, and if anything, California has seen an increase in people asking me where they can download our music, and so I redouble my efforts to place flash players on our website that don’t allow people to make the music portable unless they purchase it. I can’t tell if I’m cutting mythroat or not.
But the Rainbow Bar and Grill went off with style, panache and noise. We rocked the hole they gave us, and filled the bar with the best Tuesday night they’d ever seen. There’s something really, really fucking satisfying about going to a town as purportedly jaded as LA and having both the soundguy and one of the main promoters for the evening tell you that you’re the best act that they’ve had. Maybe even the best guitarist they’ve seen.
There was guy in particular, Blitch. He was a rocker – made up in leather and black and more chains that I will EVER get to wear. He was especially enthusiastic and I preened beneath his praise in probably a sort of absurd fashion. I realized afterwards that I was probably acting in-front-of-pretty-girl stupid simply because his leather-clad punk rock image was entirely the kind of crowd that I’d always WISHED I could’ve been a part of.
It was a good night – and I could learn to like LA afterall.
And I got my Fatburger. It was everything it should’ve been and about two inches more.
FAT!!!
