New Years Day, 2008. I’ve been mastering the Topanga Mountain Tree-o cd today. Lots of memories in this disc. The early Malibu Inn on Sundays with Jess and Liz. Those gigs down at Joxsters in Culver City running sound from that little booth behind the big screen tv. Couldn’t see the stage, the sound board would occasionally shock the shit out of you, and the owner would barge on stage now and again to lead the faithful in his favorite Irish drinking songs, but somehow (with the help of Stella) we got through. This music makes me think of how beautiful life up here in this canyon town has been over the last six years or so. Tim O’Gara playing up at Abuelita’s. All the incredible parties up on Henry Ridge. Porch pickin’ at Cameron’s and Darb’s. The 2005 Summer of Darts up at Froggy’s. Topanga Days (and nights). Riding the Old Bull. If life is a book, I’d print this chapter on linen paper.
Topanga Mountain Tree-O has begun no less than five records. Two live attempts at the Malibu Inn, at least two different studio sessions around town, and I believe a live set from Topanga Days. Finally, we tried the old “Live in the Studio” approach. Some of these mixes are pretty rough and I’m sure the recordings could have been better given the lack of sleep and the keg of Tecate we were working with, but at least they finally have 13 songs to give out (even though it’s six, maybe seven years since they started playing together and Eric’s currently living in Switzerland and Brendan’s in Costa Rica and Sean and the fam are moving to Portland and Darby, well, Darby’s around). Better late than never, I suppose. Topanga Mountain Tree-O – Songs From The Porch. Available somewhere, sometime, soon. Wish you could of bought one back when they were killing it down at O’Brien’s or bringing down the main stage at Topanga Days.
It feels like a beginning and an ending today. The moment that has been Topanga seems to be fading away. I’m retreating into school and work and thinking about future plans. Marriages and children and moving on has changed the landscape. It just feels like something else now. Beneath my feet my shadow is hanging on. Not for nothing, not for whimsy’s sake, not for a mere change of scenery or anything flippant like that (I’m not 32 anymore, you know) … but a real purpose must be born this year. The end of sweet diversions and California mountain towns. The only thing missing right now is you.
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