It's far, far away, isolated and looks like a huge fuckin' warehouse.
It's got Marilyn Monroe tattooed on the door to the ladies' room, and Che Guevara on the guys' loo.
The walls, a canvas for graffiti amateurs.
Then there's posters of Robert Johnson, and a huge flat screen, which PCRC did justice to.
And the sound, these guys spend a bomb on getting the right acoustics with Acoustic Control.
Bottomline, I like CounterCulture.
I played there once, hope to play there again.
Guru, an event manager of sorts, convinced me that the band I would open for is unique, and it would be a great way to wake up from my year-long unmusical slumber, and open up to Bangalore.
He was spot on.
Peter Cat Recording Co's melodies just kept lingering in my head long after the show.
Peter Cat Recording Co at CounterCulture from fluorescent films on Vimeo.
Peter Cat Recording Co at CounterCulture
And 200 people showed up. And paid an entry each. And they all turned up just for the music. Not for food, not to yap over blaring music, they came for the show.
Not to say CounterCulture's food isn't worth the long drive. From what I hear, their food's delectable.
But for the first time in a long time, this felt like a genuine place that supports original music. Will it last? I should like it to...
And I should hope this isn't just a one-time euphoric outburst, stemming from my musical inactivity.
Now for the cherry on top -- I got paid right after the show. Transparent as transparent can be. And I got a sweet little poster as a takeaway. I was pleased. And when I did the math in my head, they really did not make that much, or anything at all from this gig.
The band got paid and I got paid.
And they took lovely videos, recorded the whole concert (top notch production), and have promised me a CD this weekend.
Maybe there really is something to this place that makes it worth the journey.
