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Archive for the ‘Waiting’ Category

It was probably 1994 when my brother popped his head into my bedroom and said “Hey, you know that song by Nirvana? The he’s the one who likes all our pretty songs and he likes to sing along… one?”

Me: “Um, yeah.”

Brother, with a snarky smile: “Do you know what it means? Heh.”

Me: “Yeah, it’s about someone who sings along to a song and doesn’t know what it’s about.”

Brother: “Oh…. Yeah.” He was defeated in his attempt at a dig.

Little did he know that I’d been following his choices in music for a few years by then. He would voraciously read Spin and Rolling Stone and I in return would flip through his CD collection and make mental notes.

These days I still pay attention to what bands he’s listening to. The difference is that we now openly share good music and he respects my taste in return.

So when he told me to check out Group Love, I did. And then when he told me I absolutely HAD to respond to their ad for people to be in a music video, I did.

That’s how I found myself in a house in Dalston on the hottest day of the year hanging out with about 20 other extras and the band. I left with several impressions.

  • Being an extra is really monotonous and only to be undertaken when paid or for a project you really believe in.
  • People who have random Mondays off and choose to spend them as an extra in a music video are an interesting lot.
  • Group Love are really down to Earth nice people who deserve all the success in the world.
  • Listening to a song on repeat for about 8 hours straight is a guaranteed way to get the song stuck in your head. Take me to your best friend’s house, dun nah – dah nah – nah nah nuh…

Being an extra involves being good at waiting.

We were rewarded for our hard work with a private impromptu performance of songs other than Tongue Tied.

Grouplove Private Performance

A few days later, I was already going through withdrawals. Group Love was performing at Bar Fly in Camden. I scrambled up some tickets, called up fellow extra, Holly, and went to check out the sold out show. I love it when bands play small intimate shows. I hope they get really huge, but sadly that will ruin my chances for having a repeat experience.

Click here to see the video for Tongue Tied. If you pay close attention, you can see me pushing through the crowd at about 3:39.

Group Love’s debut album, Never Trust A Happy Song, arrives September 13. Check them out, they rock.

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The night before the Royal Wedding, the Mall and Buckingham Palace were already packed with people who had flown across the world to sleep in a tent in a foreign country’s public park along side strangers. Their dedication made me envious. I knew it was impossible to sleep in a comfortable bed AND get a glimpse of the royal couple on their wedding day. You can guess which option I chose.

The dedicated hailed from many backgrounds with the Americans making a big showing. Also making a big showing were flags and pajamas.

Pajama Party along the Mall

These ladies were making it a Girl's Night Out

Home sweet home

Having a kip. (That means nap.)

This guy offered to trade me a cupcake for a kiss. Thanks, but I'm not hungry.

Country of Georgia, represent!

Texas girls, represent!

We all know why the souvenir shop owners are smiling.

Prepared for the big day.

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Photo not mine.

I have two modes when it comes to making it to the airport for a flight. I am either extremely early or barely make it. The other weekend I happened to be extremely early.

Husband and I went to our usual Gatwick pub for a pre-flight beverage and sub-standard reheated frozen snack. I approached the counter and made my order. The bartender squinted. “Um, can I see some I.D?”

The legal drinking age in the UK is 18. I am no longer anywhere near 18. I call bullshit on anyone who wants to tell me I look younger than 18. Nonetheless, I’ll take this as a compliment. I know bartenders in the UK are trained to I.D. anyone who doesn’t look 25. I like to believe that I can pass for 25.

I go to retrieve my passport and make it back to the counter. “Ah, American” he says when he sees it. “You know, I love some American accents. Some of them are really nice. Yours is really nice.”

“Thank you,” I reply. This is a nice surprise. I usually get told that American accents sound like a British person with a mouth full of bubble gum.

He feels the need to go on. He’s compensating with friendliness for having asked for I.D. “Some of them are really bad. Like Texas accents. I hate Texas accents. They are awful.”

I thank him again as I grab my beer.

“Where in the U.S. are you from?” he asks.

“I’m from Texas,” I reply as I prepare to walk away.

His face goes blank and he lets out a stutter.

Awkward.

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