The Wild Night Is Calling

[ceciliatan]

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

If in other towns I’d had trouble because there was nowhere to go, in San Francisco I almost had the opposite problem. It was hard to decide where to go for all the choices. In the end I took a cab to Castro Street where, even with the night chill in the air, there were people on the street, spilling out of late night bookstores and cafes, and sauntering to the disco-techno beat leaking out of bars.

In another city or in another neighborhood the same break beats and remixes might have poured forth from a venue with limousined and fur-coated women waiting at the door, or club kids with torn jeans and Crayon-hair. But with evidence of neither in sight, and men in T-shirts one size too small all around, the incessant beat was a siren song for me.

I had no doubt in my mind what I would find through those doors.

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