"This is no acoustic show," I wrote in the brown book, standing back between the dressing room door and the door to the office, leaning against the chewing-gum- purple walls and scribbling like mad. "This is a sit-a-man-down, electric, rock'n' roll river of dreams....I never had heard them sound so good. Too bad there's only 13 people here."
I looked over to the other side of the room, St. Louis, Jody, and Thomas sat perched, high on stools, buds in hand and faces glowing. Les sat low and knealt over his guitar, flipping every little dance above the Fizz's solid floor of song.
Wes McDonald and the Fizz
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