Dreams Of Californication Part 2

...Thursday 10/11/18

That night, we made our way across the bridge and into the city to AR Audio.

It was there where most of us met Adam Rossi for the first time.  He gave us a tour of his studio, and my first impression was exactly what I'd expected after our multiple phone conversations...an absolutely genuine dude.  

Our fellow musicians trickled in and we met Rob Hooper, who would man the drum throne, Paul Olguin on bass guitar, and Darrin Fox spicing things up on lead/rhythm guitar. Starting with Andrew Wiscombe, Stephen Covell and I went through our sets and then called it an early night.  

Friday, October 12th 

 

I woke up in our Airbnb house under a ginormous Sherpa blanket with the California air blowing through open windows.  It was absolutely beautiful.  At the huge table on the backyard patio, I sat having coffee in a sweater, breathing in the air coming off of the Pacific and looked at the beautiful hills surrounding Mill Valley. 

Around noon we headed up to The Throckmorton Theater to begin setting up for the evening.  After we loaded in our merchandise and guitars, we were given a tour of the facility, shown the green room, and proceeded to figure out lunch.  I mention it, because it was my first Punjabi Burrito.  The blackened chicken to be specific, from a kick ass Indian place down the street called Avatar's.  So..to tally:  Mexican food x 1, Indian/Mexican food x1.  I'm not sure I am making good gastrointestinal choices at this juncture, however some things must be tried.

Later in the afternoon, we had a bit of free time, so I decided to Quality Control Check the hot tub.  While the temperature offered sweet relief to my "Airborne Back" and knees (from my Lance Armstrong/Stretch Armstrong impression the day prior), I could not decipher the code to engage the jets.  Coupled with the fact that my music speaker shit the bed about three songs in, I decided to unass the tub, and chill for a bit before our 6 pm bus call.

During the downtime, many of us just sat around playing music to each other and bullshitting.  It was glorious. At one moment, you'd hear Rachel Harvey Hill in the living room rehearsing something and her beautiful voice would carry through the house...minutes later, Andrew Wiscombe would be singing one of his signature stories about real life, making you question your own abilities as a songwriter.  

I was never more ready to take the stage....

To Be continued.

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