Andrew Vladeck

I was shocked by how many people came out to see us, and very grateful for how supportive they were.  That show will live in infamy for several reasons.  There was Hoyt Honey’s remarkable performance.   On the second song, Hoyt, in good spirit, and wearing a dashiki, dashed across the stage, tripped on my guitar cable and crashed into the drums, breaking a rib.   And then there was I’ll call the Tambourine Incident. About 20 minutes after a great gig I returned to the stage to collect my belongings.  By that time the supportive audience had kindly lifted a bunch of our things.   What was actually adorable how the sweet kleptomaniacs approached me for a photo or the like.  One girl was wearing my scarf… another had my harmonica…. another our recorder and drumsticks.  And still another with my tamborine.   They all kindly returned our belongings except the tambourine, which wound up in the hands of a surly, strapping gent.  Who refused to return it.    I must confess,  it’s taken me a minute to understand the Aussie sense of humor.   I think I was that failed to appreciate how the inclination to “take the piss” (to jokingly razz someone) can be dangerously heightened when fueled by a lot of drink:  It get’s elevated to a whole ‘nother level.  Add an inferiority complex into the mix and things can get touchy pretty quick.    Hence my imploring him not to steal our tamborine, and him briefly wrapping his fingers around my neck.   It was quite a surprise, and very humbling.  But all’s well that end’s well and we got our tambourine back only to be repeatedly lifted after every single show by more adorable, effusive kleptos, who reminded me they couldn’t help it, as it was in their blood, decended as they were from 18th-Century penal colony thieves.  My kind of people.