So where to begin exactly?
“I bought your album on iTunes! And I run a Mexican record label, can I sign you?”
This is the first thing that happens when we land in LA. He’s the customs officer. We’d heard all the horror stories of Australian bands flying 14 hours only to be denied entry because of VISA complications. Looks like we got lucky! We pick up our sweet hire car, The Dodge, which will be home for the next two weeks:
We drive on the wrong side of the road to Venice Beach. We’re renting an apartment from a Parisian dude named Davis who makes old furniture out of vintage crates. Looks good…but there’s nowhere
comfortable to sit or sleep. We walk the Santa Monica Boulevard to the pier, head out to a killer Italian restaurant and retire at a reasonable hour.