It was a restless night of sleep, so I head to the bathroom now, bleary-eyed, a fresh towel in hand, while thoughts of vinyls and concerts and tourism swamp my mind. After the success of last Saturday’s concert, Trevyn is all about expanding down that promotional route. He’s been in contact with a number of local bands and has Amber and I busy reaching out to some better-known acts to convince them to consider us for a small venue performance. “It’d be nice if we could get a liquor license,” he remarked just yesterday. “For concerts 21+. What do you think, ladies?” I didn’t know how to answer that one. Possibly that he was getting a little ahead of himself? Thankfully, Amber was there to bring things into perspective. “Honey,” she said as she placed a gentle hand on his arm. He regarded her with a mix of expectance and adoration. “You know, we’ve got a lot on our plate as is, with just the music aspect of this shop. Besides, I’m not sure we want the responsibilities of a bar quite yet…you know, all the young drunks in a shop like this”—she gestured around to signal the delicacy of all our records—“and underage people trying to get drinks.
