Femme Fatale at the Trocadero

This beautiful woman with a German accent walks in throught the Strip entrance. She was no stranger to the weird and elegant. The Trocadero was just the place for her to hang out. She'd met Bob, Mick and Keith both had a thing for her, as did Lou Reed and John Cale.

No wonder. She was a doll.

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Anyways, the house lights had dimmed, as Billy Eckstein takes the room. Accompanied by Earl Hines' "Grand Terrace Orchestra" all Pig could think was "Man, can they wail and baby do they bop." The Pig was taken back from his daydreamer's nirvana. Billy was big stuff, the real deal.

"Gosh," thought Pig. "Hearing Billy sing "Stormy Monday" really gets me, strikes me to the heart. Where does that beautiful Baritone crooner sound come from?"

Where indeed...
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But the beautiful German gal was where everyone else's attention was. Even Peter and Allen were roused by her presence. She cut the perfect figure in this club of glamour, this Nico woman. Funny, sounds like Nitsa. But, none the less, she was a star in the night's crown.

Disco was still a few years away, though some could hear the soul and funk starting to slip in under the door. Tonight Eckstein still held court.

Nico sat at the side bar, escorted by Andy. He was the king of Pop, an artist and a music producer. Many laughed at his personna, but he died and Southeby's took 9 days to auction all he left behind. Sorry. That jumps ahead too far.

Anyways, Andy had a Gin Fizz and Nico had Stoly with a Red Bull chase. Lou Reed was still somewhere in Manhattan, probably lost on the subway. John Cale had gone home to Whales.

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Leo sat in the cold mountain gloom, energized by the day's chill. Snow sat on the nearby peaks as the sound turned to spirit. What happens when the rattlesnakes lose their skin? The rocks tumble down and groove, riling the already hibernating bears.

Swoop, swoop. Rock, rock.