When bands on the road roll into town, they usually are looking for some hedonistic Hollywood fun and want to see the sights: The Capitol building. Lemmy’s barstool at the Rainbow. The Viper Room sidewalk where Rivers died…the beach. Often times the cool indie rock chick in Los Angeles can fall into the role of platonic fluffer. This can be a nice change for a local girl as she can give a tour and see the sour city with fresh and glitter soaked eyes.
I gave up giving tours several years ago. After a few platonic friendships crossed the line into the murkiness of long distance love, followed by a looong spell with a live-in boyfriend, I became too busy, too important, to drive around the city with a band in tow. But something about the lads in the British import band Passenger, made me change my tune.
Passenger came to my tv show via Brighton and were sent to me by the gals at Girlie Action. Lead singer Mike Rosenberg, a baby face with a sharp wit and old soul, proved to be a ready opponent for my snark and subversive interview style. Their performance was impressive enough to raise my jaded ass’s interest and I actually stayed in the studio to watch.
- Passenger
Still with a good show in the can, I didn’t suspect I’d see them again. The invite to a gig after a taping is something I normally deflect with a lame excuse, more often than not. But that night, when out searching for my first meal of the day, I found myself pulling up in front of the Hotel Caf
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