It seem so long ago now. Beach House was playing at the Wiltern and there was a tickle of excitement in my lungs that mixed with the spliff smoke from the ride out from the westside. I miss that excitement. I miss it like one misses the good old days. The best days. The ones that harden into beautiful diamonds in the mind's eye. The days we should've done more. We should've slow danced to the slow songs. Should've. I would have maybe if I hadn't been so high. Maybe if I'd had a beer or two instead. Maybe if I didn't like her so much. I think maybe I was too into the band though. Live music will do that, it's not hard to loose yourself in. Or maybe I was too scared. The lady of the voice had a lion's mane, not pressed down, but fluffy and full of life. Like a cabaret curtain. She'd yawn a song with force and a steady angel tone like a wail that sailed up to the rafters and all around. There was a fullness to it that anchored deep so she kept my gaze and her fingers never left the keyboard. For some songs they would hold the long note.
