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  • Will was the head honcho in Mendocino and the man who had given us the trimming hook up. He was a small town Southern man, often hunched over, a few years older than myself. He possessed a unique lexis that was habitually muffled by his beard and befuddling drawl. About 6’4, he owned a sphynx cat, and by all accounts could be deemed to flaunt his eccentricity. A classic ideologue, he’d spout his gypsy hearsay as gospel, obsess over the soul and spirit, something that – at the time – I’d thought nothing of. Will had told both Sabrina and I about the cognitive, semiotic and hermeneutic approaches used to incite visionary ecstasy and go on "revelation quests".

    He seemed constantly to be afire with the most farfetched theories.

    So when I returned to San Francisco this summer to track down Sabrina after months of pining, the last thing I expected Katie, her house mate, to say was,
    “He’s taken her on a flight of the soul” , deadpan. “Did she not mention this to you?”

    Who? Why yes; Will, owner of an Airstream,champion of fried chicken, bourbon and strange sexual practices, a pseudo mystic and all-round social provocateur. He was essentially a little lost boy who had grown up in the pubescent shadow of his much older [and needless to say cooler] brother. This Brother, as I recall, is in an almost famous MOR rock group. Signed three years ago, their first album was a critical smash, although a commercial flop. Their second was described as a 'sonic tour de force', something that music journalists tend to call albums they don't fully understand; and even though it's to my personal taste, it sold a remarkable one million copies.

    This has led to the bands recent signing to a major label and their first ever UK tour. They play The Shepheards Bush Empire, London in exactly eight weeks time. Don't get me wrong, I understand this wouldn't be half as interesting to anyone, if, and wait for it, Will wasn't 'on the run'. He hasn't spoken to his family, brother included, for over six years. He is in fact wanted across several states and has wild west rewards out chasing his gangly behind all the way to Cumaribo, Colombia, South America.

    I know he's there because Katie told me so. I have the address, I have his cell phone number [which Sabrina left with Katie just in case]... and now, now it would seem I have his fate in my hands too. When I close my eyes at night I imagine Sabrina like a toddler in the twilight, taking imaginary gifts from imaginary gods, walking across a continually changing landscape, scared and fragile. I'm going to relay my 'mares to Mike. Mike is Will's brother and someone who at precisely 7:30 May 11th, post sound check - pre gig, will be sat down with your truly. I've managed to blag guest list passes and an interview under the guise I'm a new live editor for a non-existent blog. These PR people really should be tighter with their allocations. Count down the days with me - let the flashes of red blur that blur my vision grow stronger with support - feel my mule heart kick with yours, synced for revenge, we'll be better in force. I'm not entirely sure whether they, Will, Mike or myself know exactly we've started here, but one thing is for sure, there will be fireworks.
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