I had a rough gig last night; but, what a hoot the Spree were.
I could barely hear myself onstage last night; it was all treble, like a tin can, and my voice seemed to be emitting from a telephone twelve feet away from my ear. Anybody that was there last night, how did it sound in the house?
Canada Dan Chen, however, sounded amazing–so much fun to play with the guy. And Vin, my new drummer in this as-yet-theoretical band of mine, hung out backstage.
I watched the Spree’s show from behind Ricky, the harpist, who at one point turned around and solemnly draped a long ribbon of silver mylar around my neck. What a blast it was to watch them. The thing I loved most was the bass playing–those fat, nervy, Beatlesque lines. When it really got rocking, you could feel the floor wobble.
And naturally, what could be more advantageous for an arty photographer such as myself than a gang of zealous dancers in multicolored robes?