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meeting Bill Melonee...
last summer, a small western pennsylvania town had a
music festival of sorts. the turnout proved pathetic
and the main draw, VoL was a show attended by roughly
thirty people.
I wonder what it felt like, to have travelled so far
to perform for what was theoretically a big event with
an audience so small you could name them with all
fingers involved, three repetitions.
I'd never heard VoL before. Mr. Callender offered
warm recommendations for their show, so I was curious.
a cool summer night. a thick black sky. out in the
middle of fields and horse tracks. I remember their
warmth. that they were genuine. I remember I danced
barefoot on the gravel turf for a bit--as much in
pleasure of the music and the space as to keep warm.
afterwards, the posse of us lined up by their booth
and waited patiently. Mr. Melonee was quite
distinctive with yellow bleached hair. my friends
talked to him about their admiration and musical
ambitions, and he listened quietly and patiently.
I gazed over the wares of stickers, cds, and shirts
and murmered that being a poor college girl had its
drawbacks.
later, I talked to Bill myself. he offered me their
latest cd--the roof of the sky. I shook my head,
embarressed and he said:
"no. it's yours. I heard you were short of cash."
I stammered.
"God's been good to us, these days."
he replied quietly.
I like them, by the way. they've got some of that
rumpled honesty that makes me think of peeling paint
on a screen door. can't figure out the visual
association. just know that they've got a gritty kind
of living about them that I appreciate greatly.
lynz.
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