New York City – “Meeting Tarantino Part 2” – The Bitter End – October 21, 2000

CONTINUED FROM YESTERDAY….

After The Point, in Bryn Mawr, night before last, Soucy decided to get 3 bags of laundry done (at 1am no less), napping between loads. This made for a junk night of sleep for me. His alarm went off every half hour proceeded by what felt like passive-aggressive turning on and off of lights. The roof was tin, so the torrential rain echoed like a thousand construction workers opening brown paper bag lunches. It was impossible to get any honest rest. The morning of the 19th hurt and our Itinerary was stacked:

• Oxygen Media (Oprah’s Network) TV show: 10:45 am
• CD Now interview (at The Bitter End): 5:00 pm
• CNN interview (at The Bitter End): 5:45 pm
• Sound Check: 6:00 pm
• Doors: 7:00 pm
• Show: 8:30 pm
• WNEW radio interview: 11-3 am

Oxygen Media’s office sat above the Chelsea Flower Market, a bustling maze of fragrances and sounds that overwhelmed the senses. Fresh blooms mingled with bread, chocolate, and the bass drum hum of New York City, hot and unrelenting. Walking through the brick-hauled hallways, blue guitar in hand, I felt like a wraith gliding through the chaos. The noise, the heat, the smoke—they all seemed to break around me like waves on a rock.

Upstairs, we were greeted by a showrunner, “Nikki,” who brought us coffee, bagels, and flowers, and settled the band in a huge, clean, comfortable, unnecessary but much-appreciated dressing room. Kenny parked himself in front of the TV and turned up the volume on the show being filmed in the control booth next door. Quentin Tarantino was on in a Hawaiian shirt, flailing his arms around frantically talking about the new script he’s writing — a movie called “Kill Bill.” He was high on his own brilliance and Delluchi, staring at the screen mused, “Man I’d like to smoke that guy up.” So, I put on my cutest pink skirt and sauntered into the hall just as the producer was escorting Quenten out and I “just happened to” bump into him.

It was the least I could do for Delucchi after all the stress I’ve put him through this tour. “This is Sally Taylor, Quentin,” the producer introduced us. “Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” I may or may not have said flirtatiously. “Sally Taylor,” said Quentin, bowing his head to kiss my hand, “I’ve heard a lot about you. You playing the show now?” He asked cooly. I brought him back to our dressing room and poured him a cup of coffee while Delucchi beamed at me and offered him a blunt.

Quentin was hysterical! He had us all laughing so hard I got the hiccups. Knowing it’s impossible to sing with hiccups, Quentin frantically insisted he help me get rid of them, only making me laugh harder. You know when you meet someone you feel you’ve known your entire life? That’s what it was like with Quentin. He was familiar, fun and after watching our set, a fan of our music. He requested a ticket for The Bitter End that night.

Backstage hundreds of thousands of band stickers, desperate for attention, culung to the splintery dark walls and I stuck mine up there too. CD Now and CNN came to interview me before our stage call and the show was packed to the gills. Jimmy Buffett, who’d recorded our most recent show at Steven Talkhouse for his webcast, “Margaritaville” sent Chris Blackwell (Founder of Island Records) and Russ Titleman (Producer) to the show and, as someone handed me a newly printed Vanity Fair bought from the newsstand on the corner, I couldn’t help thinking, this is our time. This is our break. This is Apt Success (APT. #6S)

It was thrilling to see my face in such a fancy, glossy magazine and more thrilling still to watch Quinten Tarantino bounce in his seat to “Happy Now” and later, ask to be our roadie* for the night. He helped us tear(ntino) down and shlep our gear to the van. He kissed me on the mouth between loads and told that “When We’re Together” was his new favorite song and that I was amazing. Driving away from the city, I felt important, scared and lonely.

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Footnote:

Roadie: A member of a crew for a traveling group of musicians or other entertainers, whose work usually includes the setting up and tearing down of equipment.