“I want everybody dancing,” she swung her hand in our direction and turned to us. “This is a dancing song.” My Precious played at the Sandringham Hotel tonight and I managed to catch them in a pretty good set.
The upstairs loft was empty when I arrived, with only the merchandise crew and various wallflowers awkwardly loitering and chatting. I loitered over to one of the guys behind the desks and wondered if he was part of the band. When he looked up I opened with, “What time's the show?”
“About 8”, he said.
I scanned the merchandise and saw that they had a promotional poster for their album titled, The Fine Line.
“Are you Singaporean?”
“No”, I replied. Was he wondering why anybody would come to the show if they were not Singaporean or do I just look like I could be from Singapore? “I used to live there,” I added, hoping he could fix me up with some Singaporean muso goss or something like that. When he didn't say anything, I thought I might get a beer. And so I did.
…and you know what sucks? I pressed backspace on this thing while writing it and lost the rest of this entry on the refresh. Doh!
But, wait. Close your eyes. Photos.
