|Members of Last To Leave contemplate the beauty |
of a classic-car junkyard in Williams, Calif.
The band is invited to play for one of the member's family's annual customer appreciation day, and I am invited to come along. I am honored, but a little wary: I don't want to embarrass Luke or be thrust into the role of chaperon. My days as a high school band booster are, thankfully, long gone.
Melissa, the band's accordion player and will-be journalist
Melissa tells me that our destination is a classic-car junkyard, which she suggests would be an ideal setting for a scary movie. I have never seen anything like this. Everywhere I look there is stuff: cars and parts, vintage signs, toys, bottles, bric-a-brac.
At one particularly rusty landmark, saxophonist Dalton accepts a dare to sit (for a brave few seconds) in a passenger seat with the door closed, despite the possibility of ancient, evil spiders descending upon him like Frodo entering Mordor.
|Melissa and Naomi|
Once the band is fed, it's time for music. I pull up a chair and take as many photos as I can before the sun sets behind a mountain of exquisite junk. I hope no one notices I am crying as the band plays songs that have become the soundtrack to which I cook in my kitchen across the pond.
|Skye is Last To Leave's |
founder and soul.
After a stop for ice cream, we head east to Reno. The laughter and good-natured teasing continues. And everyone is singing:
Why do you build me up ... build me up ... Buttercup baby, just to let me down ... let me down ...
I love this moment, this day, this band. They are my son's adopted family. And for this one perfect Saturday, they have adopted me, too.
|The violinist's fiance and band |
|The Reno, Nev., band, Last To Leave: Friend them on Facebook, |
follow them on Twitter, and find them making music in the most