They were desperate and homeless, what's a girl to do....
Arrived home after a busy day playing Amateur Photographers, to an UH-OH SHIT WADDA WE DO phone call from My Cyanide Licence, a (large) group of people that make up a kick-ass contemporary blues/grunge/rock band I occasionally work and record with (on the big gigs). More like a roadshow than a band. (see below)
More like a bloody nightmare in two Hi-Ace vans, actually.
Got Big Day Out in our sights, though, one day...
Phil Two (There's two) the Lead guitarist and unofficial bigmouthpiece for the group tells me they've all just got back from their latest two-month South Island Tour to find that their measly 'orrible landlord has changed the locks and installed new tenants in their absence...
Talk about Band on the Run..
Complications with the rent and too many zonked-out zombiegroupies hanging around, he reckons. Trouble with the neighbours.
Talked him down to something resembling coherence and got a word in edgewise, I then felt the only decent thing to do was offer them all( I KNOOOOW...they INSIST on living together, its some democratic egalitarian musical social experiment-thing) some temporary crashspace in my garage, while they look for somethin else.
Hmmmm....
So now Anna has two male guitarists, a bassist, drummer, keyboard player, two female backing singers, four hot dancers (including two tiny little lithe contortionists)and a couple of long-haired bearded Blonde Norwegian Pyrotechnicians ( we use a LOT of fire and explosions, that sort of thing..)doin it Marae-styles in her garage.
Toyota's out on the roadside, sulking.
At least the gear is still on its way back from Invercargill, small mercies.
Hells Blinkin Bells.. Musicians...
(Dancers....the fussing in the bathroom has started already and they've only been here 8 hours.) This is going to be fun, fun, FUUUUNNNN.
FFFUUUUUNNNNNNneh.
And we can't even plug in and practise while they're here, cause my (lovely) landlord lives RIGHT NEXT DOOR, just through the fence.
'Bout five metres away.
A 13 part home invasion.
At least they're all smoking outside and putting their empty beers in the recycling and getting their own takeaways...tonight.
Psyche and Shnuni (The Cat-girls)have PANICKED and hidden under my bed and in the shrubbery, respectively.
The sofas' are covered in hairy boys harassing each other, fighting over the remote and flinging their damn shoes around.
The Norwegians are LOUD and gesture a lot with their huge arms (there's not a lot of room, this is a two-room UNIT for goodness' sake..I have ORNAMENTS..)
Trepidation.
Off to sleep now, I can hear them all still talking out there and clonking around.
WHAT have I done....
