the great american music hall used to be a bordello.
it's one of my favorite live music venues here in san francisco and it's every musician's fantasy to play a show at their favorite venue. i'm not really a musician, but that's not gonna stop me from wanting to play at the great american music hall. last night our band, the shimmer kids, was part of the annual indie pop extravaganza, noisepop. this year is especially notable because of the added bonus of 2000 as the surname of the festival. shimmer kids play at noisepop 2000! it's got such a great ring to it and so many zeroes!
we've never really played anywhere bigger than some of the seedier bars in town, so playing on the same stage where i've watched cibo matto and john spencer blues explosion perform was far too exciting. what nearly put me over the edge was the knowledge that john doe was in the audience listening to our cacophonous song noises. john doe! not just your average john doe that a flatfooted cop finds dead by the side of the road, but *the* john doe of x and roadside prophets! the john doe that every high school girl gets a crush on sooner or later. there he was, watching us blast out electric industry during our sound check. if i could get through this show without fainting from giddiness, then i'd be satisfied that this was a successful night indeed.
when i grow up i want to be a rock star. just having a taste of rock star treatment is enough for us to want more. free food, free beer, green m&m's and happy fans bopping to our music seems to be enough for us to subsist on until we become too old and jaded for our own good. even the cheezy interview by the good folks at www.unicyclerecords.com was an interesting experience to be a part of. of course, the interview turned out terrible and the interviewer came straight out of the school of entertainment tonight, but what the hey, as long as they spell our names right and they don't mention anything about our evil plot to take over the world, then we can consider that good press, right?
now we just need groupies...
all words (c) filmfatale industries 2000