The Donster was in fine form. Sporting a gray Phil Spector 'fro, he looked tan and buff in wifebeater vest and pleated chinos with cuffs over neon violet Crocs. Cody served kelp-flavored soymilk sundaes as we settled into the fun fur.
Don: What's the rent on this place?
FMF©: Oy! Don't ask.
Don: Already I'm asking.
FMF©: Drink your sundae. So what's this Steeleye Dan thing we're listening to?
Don: She's cute.
FMF©: Cody? I guess. Is this the sleeve?
Don: Yeah. It came out fairly lush, I think. It was Wally's project, really.
FMF©: Wally? Oh. Really?
Don: He always had a big jones for trad. arr. The Child Ballads, Shirley and Dolly Collins, that genre. He played the little concertina thing, the squeezebox, and wore this Morris dancing outfit, with the bells. You squeeze her box much? Where'd she go?
FMF©: So how did the meeting with Steeleye Span happen?
Don: They were on tour in New York, and so were we. We met by chance in Saks, the lamp department there. They have these great pendant lamps. We're all major interior lighting fans. Who knew?
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| The FMF Conversation Pit Of Sound© |
Don: Well we did. To our mutual satisfaction.
FMF©: But the album - Solstice On 7th Avenue - was never released.
Don: Contracts! Everything was screwed by our lawyers. Our lawyers screwed everything.
FMF©: Wow. This song sounds fantastic.
Don: It was written in 1812. That's a hell of a time signature.
FMF©: Is this Walt - Wally - on the cover?
Don: Uh-huh. In his Morris dancing clothes. Can I get another sundae?
FMF©: You didn't finish that one.
Don: Whatever.
At this point, we veered off-topic, swapping show-biz anecdotes (the one about Michael Bolton and the cantaloupe was new to me) which have no relevance here.
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