There’s a house at the corner of my street in Venice, CA, that has a robot statue in the front yard made out of a silver spray painted television set and other odds and ends. It’s not a particularly impressive statue. Looks like a hippie made it or something, and in such form, the house itself has always had a revolving door of free spirits…
The bunch that inhabited that abode around the same time that we started Jamming in the Van, was a particularly memorable one. They would hang signs that looked like they were scribed by a band of pirates from a tree limb that hung from their yard over the sidewalk. The signs would sometimes announce concerts for a band that I’d never heard of, playing at a place I’d never been. I always enjoyed the signs, but I never checked out the shows, my bad. I think the band might have asked us if we needed a group to film a few times, but we were never filming when they did so, and we never knew their name. Other than that, my dog played with their dog on the street a couple of times, although my dog sucks at playing with other dogs, so I don’t know if they were pals. Then the signs stopped showing up on the branch, a new breeze of people blew in, and those cats moved on to other places.
Then, as the passing of time and luck would have it, we ran into them again, later on down the line if you will, about a week before they played Jimmy Kimmel, and just a few months after they did Leno. We know their band name now. There’s like eight Mowglis, which is a lot of Mowglis, so I apologize for not remembering everyone’s actual name. The dog, Abby, I remembered her. Cool-ass mutt with a Hawaiian shirt on. Oh, and I remember the song, the one you’ll soon have stuck in your head too. Because, you know, it’s a small world, after all…