I’ve found my people – and that’s you guys. Five weeks in my Father(s)land of the USA makes for a can-do attitude so sit tight for media-rich Mama Tokus updates.
First up, a holiday report. You wanna go to my New Best Destination? You stay at the Little Eazy, up the road from New Orleans’ hip Frenchman Street scene. Mama celebrated a big birthday there (I turned 39 again) and started the day with a cigar in the cottage’s hot-tub. Email Margaret – but tell her I sent you.
I also stayed at the India Backpacker’s Hostel – perfect for an entertainer’s busman’s holiday, with its stage and PA, groovy people round the pool and morning fry-ups.
I met more of my people in NO, including Marc Stone who, when not broadcasting on WWOZ.org (my bestest ever radio station ever), plays great antique blues and acid zydeco. Not at the same time. He invited Mama to step up and sing at his gig on Bourbon Street. Ay, how my NO showbiz virginity was tenderly taken…
Whilst in the Dirty South I took in a bit of boho Texas (and there is only a bit), staying at the Austin Motel, and visiting the nearby Hamilton Pools (left), courtesy of a tip-off from inspirational new pal Rupert Isaacson.
He’s busy training horses there, writing and travelling, launching a movie about his journey to Mongolian shamanism with his autistic son and pushing a Hollywood script an’ all.
Prior to the Dirty South, Mama showed up at the Burning Man festival, where she stormed the ramparts of Quixote Cabaret’s castle (run by Englishmen, natch), plus rocked the Burn’s jazz club.
Of course, the whole dang trip began in California, where Mama got her toes wet surfing and fishing. See a report of my first ever fly-fishing trip on that unlikely but oh-so-readable music industry/angling/culture blog Caught By The River.
And now back to UK earth with a bump: this weekend’s showbiz job in hand involves Mama judging Saltash Has Got Talent. I’ll try to be kind…