Rock On

Simon’s been working on putting together a musical act (“It’s not a band, it’s a project“) for over a year now, and finally, finally, finally all the pieces came together, and last week was their debut show. (Their long list of obstacles included the original venue losing its entertainment license three days prior to the gig and then the drummer crashing on his bike and breaking four ribs the night before. Yowza.)

After securing another venue and allowing the headliner to become the opening act because they “couldn’t stay out too late” (too old, not too young), Simon’s bunch played to a Saturday-night packed house of friends, family, area hipsters, and other strangers, and they even earned an honest-to-goodness encore, which they had to turn down because the drummer’s Vicodin was wearing off.

All night long, Simon was trying his very best to be a cool rockstar about it, but I knew full well just how giddy he was to be at last up on that stage, with a group he created, performing what he respectfully calls “balls-out rock-and-roll.”

Here’s ninety seconds of a cover tune, featuring my husband on slide guitar–the gold sparkly one I bought him for his birthday a few years ago, not that I can take credit for any of this.

Congratulations, hon. You did it! *throws horns*

(Unfortunately there’s no singing in this clip, but the songstress is the awesome Mary, whom you may remember from our backyard concert.)