In the early nineties, before much was happening in the way of a café/gallery/music venue scene – back when the only places close to the hub of Main and Broadway to catch a live band were the perhaps appropriately-named Lunatic Fringe, or The Anza – I had a wild idea to convince my boss at a local breakfast joint to let me paint the place crazy, hang some local art on the walls, and get some live music happening.
While I was mid-decorating , er, spattering paint all over the walls like a sadly frantic and inept Pollock, along strolled a striking dark haired woman, her ever-present dog, and a friend, who seemed a bit amused by my endeavour to transform the space.
“Animal Slaves should play here”, she semi-snarled at the ridiculous thought to her friend, and I immediately thought she was a total rock goddess. She had a commanding presence about her that made me feel both completely inadequate and absolutely honoured to have encountered her.
The band never did play the space; my wacky idea only worked for a little while, grabbing some of the early or late night Anza Club-ers. I got fired, the business changed hands, and the years sped by.
ps. FUCK Cancer.