I was talking to my daughter about Frank Black last night as we were hanging out in Northampton. At the very moment I uttered his name, I saw him in the window of a Vietnamese tea house, drinking some bubble tea. I rudely pointed to him, and because he was facing the street, he clearly saw me. My daughter stopped to look at him and said, “That guy is a rock star? He’s fat and bald!”
One second later, Black walked out of the tea house and came right up to me and stretched out his hand to shake mine. I called him Charles, I believe. He shook Isobel’s hand and she proceeded to ask him if he was going to be playing anytime soon because she had to go bed at 10. He told her, that in fact, he was going on at 10, “and tell your Dad to keep you up late tonight!”
She told him that I probably wanted to take his picture, but that was really lame. He laughed and then walked away.