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| Lady Baby Miss & The Tigerman, NOLA |
We were on a mission. It was Mariella's 21st birthday and she had just finished her first legal drink, a Jack & Coke, and my sparkly wings were feeling cramped. So we left The Maison, a jazz bar on Frenchman Street, in search of Siberia, the venue Pile played a week or two earlier. On our walk to the French Quarter, I had seen black on white pressed posters exclaiming something along the lines of "Siberia! Show! Sunday or Saturday or anyday maybe!" When we left The Maison, we searched the poster filled poles and walls for sign of Siberia. We had to find the address that would tell us where we wanted to be. We found it, ripped it off and headed toward St. Claude, walking among a stampede of neons and living skeletons. We had to cross St. Claude to find Siberia but some sort of energy was keeping us below the entranceway to The Allways Lounge. This pull was a muffled blues with, could there be a piano inside as well? "But Siberia" I said and Mars yanked me into the dim and glowing lounge.
