After a recent show in New York, Gene, Dee and I found ourselves sipping Pink Russians in an upscale piano bar just off Broadway. I had no money and had intended to stick the others with the bill. Unfortunately, they had exactly the same plan, which left us in a bit of a pickle at the end of the evening. Pink Russians are not cheap, and Gino, the owner of the bar and, as he explained to us, a keen collector of firearms and purveyor of concrete footwear, was anxious to receive payment for his hospitality. Out of options, Gene sat down at the piano and started to play. Dee grabbed his guitar, I picked up the microphone and this song just kind of came together.
Beau always carries an old cassette tape recorder with him, as he is hoping to one day make a scandal-ridden documentary about the band, and he caught the whole performance. There was originally another verse, but at that moment Adele walked over from the bar, where she had been chatting with Celine Dion and joined in. She was awful, and we had to edit that verse out.
We still had to wash dishes to pay our bill.
Copyright 2016 Gavin Sinclair