Dance until the morning light!
Oh late Summer/Early Fall 2006. Oh how I yearn for thee. Fresh out of college, still unemployed [though Round One of "Oh shit a nigga is about to be creeping on the come up at MTV!" was about to kick in], and making up for lost times with all the wonderful ladies and gents I call my friends.
One such night brought three of us to the Troubadour to catch my newfound favorite band [at the time], The Ark. Good tunes, great show, good times had by all. Shortly thereafter there we all stood in the lobby near the merch tables, refusing to call it night, chatting up the Ark's people [including their American, Michael J. Fox channeling manager, who I am sure was hitting on me], and the ladies of Rocket, who put on a fun opening set before the boys in the band took the stage to headline it all.
And there was also this one guy. He fronted this band. This Los Angeles band. And he was all Los Angeles, twenty-something I am in a band cool, but in a good way. And boy was he funny. And charming. Where the hell was the rest of his band? What was he up to tonight? Can we come too?
Shortly before losing him to the rhythms of the night, we found out that he was the lead singer of the band known to some of you as the Vacation. Glad to see that that wit and boyish charm he exuded in conversation is still alive and in full force. Or at least common amongst him and his people, as evidenced by that promo poster presented above.
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