Day Two - Bossa Bistro, Washington DC, June 28, 2009.

Officially abusing Big Mike’s hospitality, once again we set up shop in his living room to rehearse a much longer, 2-set show that night at Bossa, which is awesomely located in the heart of Adams Morgan. We split the night with John Lee’s band, himself an absolutely phenomenal, insanely skilled fusion guitarist, and we really had our work cut out for us. Aaron and John brought enough people to pack the venue,
and I'm proud to say it was a really great night of live music; one of those when even the mistakes sound OK. By way of a fer instance, Andy absolutely mutilated “Vietato”, but even that in flagrante crime was cancelled by the standing ovation of an elderly gentleman who responded to the trainwreck by clapping and shouting “Outstanding!”.

Our first set was followed by John, who put on a clinic of what fusion should sound like if it is to have balls and please a wide audience of non-fusionheads. I can only wonder what would happen if this kid ever heard Morglbl. He got a well earned reception, and our guitars, while not as loud as the electrics, were more than ready to deliver their very best reply. Fate being the fickle bitch she is, decided to remind everyone she was also in the house; as we were getting ready to get back up on that tiny stage and play until our fingers were bleeding, there was a commotion due to a fire next door! Given that 6 fire trucks and 2 ambulances appeared on the scene to block 18th street and all foot traffic, I expected to see a towering inferno with plumes of smoke and charred victims.
Then I remembered I was back in the Maryland/DC area, and concern soon morphed into anger. It was all a false alarm: some skippy probably tossed a fag into a bush which caught fire. Next, some yuppie’s nostrils were offended by a whiff of smoke, he shat a twinkie, and called 911 from his uber-deluxe GPS cell phone. Adding to the surrealism, while firemen charged valiantly to extinguish a spark, we were conducting an interview with a guy on the street about the band, and wondering if we would even be allowed to continue. The bottom line was that we had to play our final set in front of a much smaller audience as a result of what Bill Shakespeare would have undoubtedly called “Much Ado About Nothing”. Adding insult to injury, the amazing empanada joint across the street was closed by the time we were packed and ready to go. Talk about getting the cosmic stink palm! Regardless, it was a very good night of music but the fire that never was somehow managed to singe our collective nads!