Play the Crocodile Café

...The Croc re-opened on Thursday night.

Woot WOOT! I’d heard this was on the cards, but had my fingers, legs and eyes firmly crossed (ouchie!) until it actually happened.

It has. And I really, really hope they’re kept the spirit of the place.

Hence the long-awaited return of this goal. This means both my guitar and my chutzpah need to be dragged out of mothballs. Watch this space…

...that I have to give up on this goal. Because, barring a financial miracle from some entrepreneur who might be interested in preserving a slab of Seattle music history, it ain’t gonna happen.

The Croc closed – for the last time, they say – back in December. I only found out after we tried to check out the gig bookings. Apparently they’d been in financial trouble for some time. I’m remembering, now, how when we went last April the kitchen was closed for renovations and we couldn’t get dinner, and we got redirected to a hipster bar which I shall not name, but which was woefully unequal to the Croc both in the atmosphere and in the cooking. I now realize this wasn’t just the temporary stroke of bad luck it appeared to be.

I shall miss that place. We were going, if we managed to fulfil our other dream and go live in Seattle, to become regulars there. My husband jokes that if we won the lottery he’d consider buying them out, and while we know next to nothing about running a venue (certainly nothing about cooking!), I’m almost tempted to believe him.

So, while I’ll be overjoyed to be able to reinstate this goal if something does happen and the Croc is saved, for now I have to put it on the back burner.

Temporarily.

Please.

For anyone who’s never heard of it…
Crocodile Cafe

Now, did I already say how much gigging terrifies me…no, how much the IDEA of gigging terrifies me? I did.

And yet…I love this place. It’s relaxed and intimate and it has everyone from the unheard-of to the hugely famous play there, and it feels a good place to be, that’s all I can say about it. And if I could play there, I’d happily forego the bigger venues.

So, I wanna sign my name on the wall of the Wahines’ room. That, friends, is my real incentive for overcoming stage fright…