Home Again

Thursday night we finagled a night off out of my parents and snuck out to the Hotel Cafe where our friends Alex and Angela {aka The Damnwells} were kicking off their month long residency. It was awesome.   I was a fan of Alex’s before we ever met, introduced to his music by one Ryan Reynolds (oops, sorry, dropped that name, let me pick it up) ~ if memory serves ~ although it could have been Marcos, {or Burger for that matter} who first played me the track “Saywhich would later find it’s way into the movie we were all working on, along with four or five of Alex’s other sickeningly good tunes.  {I just remember that thanks to Ryan & Marcos – and Burger for that matter – by the time we’d returned to Los Angeles from Vancouver I knew every.single.track on each of The Damnwells’ three albums (it was three at the time, now it’s like five.)}

Back in LA, I met Alex briefly when he came by the editing room but it wasn’t until a fated dinner party one warm Saturday night at Marcos’ house where my sweet Ange and I first met as wide-eyed brides-to-be that our couple-love was truly cemented.   Seven months later we toasted with their families at their rehearsal dinner, and five months after that, they sang us down the aisle as we said our own I do’s.

And then…one dark and stormy day in August 2008, they fucking moved to Iowa.  Something about Alex getting his masters degree from some fancy writing program.   Like the world needs more proof that the dude is brilliant and talented.  Whatever.   It was tragic.   We were devastated.

For two years, our buddies lived in flipping Iowa.   They both got degrees and Ange officially joined The Damnwells, and they made YET ANOTHER album while they were there.   And we had a baby.

And then, one sunny bird-chirpy day in August 2010, they came back. How fucking great is that?   So now our friends have returned.   And we couldn’t be more psyched.   And they still couldn’t be more talented.    And watching them on stage together, you can’t help but notice that their voices sound like they were made to sing together.   They’re like, audible proof that soul mates exist or something sappy like that.   So listen.

{If you can get past the sea-sick part in the beginning of the video, it gets better, and really…you should be listening to these guys.   And not just because I love them so much.}

Feed Me Seymour