Matchsticks
Who: Emil and Adam
Where: a club called the Matchsticks in LA
When: Saturday, after this post
After they got off the bus, Emil lead the way to the club in question. Saturday night and the place was bustling with activity - lively, the bouncer at the door carefully checking ids and slapping wristbands on those who were old enough to drink.
Emil handed over his ID, collected a neon wristband, and waited for Adam to do the same before heading inside. The club itself was smoky and the decor was somewhat retro - the building had been a dance hall forty or fifty years ago, as the wooden walls and the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling attested. It had been refitted with a bar, and the tables and chairs that were positioned irregularly around the room were done in black and red.
On the wooden walls, the Matchsticks logo (two crossed match sticks with the ends of the sticks forming musical notes) was strategically positioned as were posters advertising upcoming bands. According to the poster Emil spotted as they headed past, the band on stage tonight was Never Cry Wolf. A four piece indie folk-rock band, all guys - with a lead singer who had a haircut that seemed to consist of hair-over-his-eyes.
Emil listened carefully to the lyrics in particular as they looked for a table.
I was riding around with my worst friend.
It was the seventh of September; the day that I surrendered.
Now fifteen more 'til my birthday.
And he was talking about a girl that he had just met.
What was her name? I can't remember.
Oh, but man she was a mover.
You should have seen the way she danced.
Oh baby, please don't leave me here
with these awful people I fear may help me
become a man I will regret....
As they settled in to a table, he looked to Adam to see what he thought of the place. "Worth the trip?" he asked.
Where: a club called the Matchsticks in LA
When: Saturday, after this post
After they got off the bus, Emil lead the way to the club in question. Saturday night and the place was bustling with activity - lively, the bouncer at the door carefully checking ids and slapping wristbands on those who were old enough to drink.
Emil handed over his ID, collected a neon wristband, and waited for Adam to do the same before heading inside. The club itself was smoky and the decor was somewhat retro - the building had been a dance hall forty or fifty years ago, as the wooden walls and the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling attested. It had been refitted with a bar, and the tables and chairs that were positioned irregularly around the room were done in black and red.
On the wooden walls, the Matchsticks logo (two crossed match sticks with the ends of the sticks forming musical notes) was strategically positioned as were posters advertising upcoming bands. According to the poster Emil spotted as they headed past, the band on stage tonight was Never Cry Wolf. A four piece indie folk-rock band, all guys - with a lead singer who had a haircut that seemed to consist of hair-over-his-eyes.
Emil listened carefully to the lyrics in particular as they looked for a table.
I was riding around with my worst friend.
It was the seventh of September; the day that I surrendered.
Now fifteen more 'til my birthday.
And he was talking about a girl that he had just met.
What was her name? I can't remember.
Oh, but man she was a mover.
You should have seen the way she danced.
Oh baby, please don't leave me here
with these awful people I fear may help me
become a man I will regret....
As they settled in to a table, he looked to Adam to see what he thought of the place. "Worth the trip?" he asked.