Having successfully managed to be out of town or otherwise unavoidably not available whenever any other Cashews guerrilla gig has been on, there was no way I was missing their last one (even if it meant switching shifts at the Multicultural Festival, and pi$$ing off some friends who had plans for getting elegantly wasted at the Belgian Beer Bar).
Sorry, besties, but if you’re pre-warned that it’s a ten minute drive from the city, one must be on one’s best low alcohol behaviour.
The call came out two hours ahead of the scheduled start time of 7.15pm that the venue was the top of Mount Ainslie (‘where it all began’) and a note on Alison Procter’s Facebook site later read: “Alison prepares to climb mount ainslie, accordion on her back…”
Unfortunately, some took this to mean that walking up there was the preferred and expected method of transport, and I’m not sure if it was a pi$$-take that the Hashemoto double bass was indeed walked all the way up the hill in 40-degree temperatures.
It was too hot for irony, sarcasm or anything going close.
But the gig itself was sublime. It started off intimate and ended ‘intimate premium’ with a medium but appreciative crowd basking in the massed and separate talents of The Cashews and Hashemoto. Several usual suspects were absent due to Fringe and Festival commitments, or simply on other duties: ‘My husband’s at home cleaning the house!’ explained Alison.
If you’re going for a dramatic back-drop, Mother Nature is certainly your friend, and as Hashemoto played one number, certain members of the crowd had one eye over their shoulders, waiting for the moment when the sun finally disappeared from view in the west.
(Slideshow attached, though the full glory of the elements just cannot be captured on a Nokia phone.)
Alison and Dan disappear for the north this week, but they’ll be back for Corinbank.