Dean Wareham, former front man of Luna, has written a memoir called Black Postcards. There's an excerpt about how he fell in love with band mate and now wife Britta Phillips, in Men's Vogue, and unsurprisingly it is well-written:
Three weeks later, we found ourselves driving up to Providence—seven hours in the pouring rain. I had become acutely aware of where I was sitting in our rented van. I used to think of it as sitting in the front row or the back row, on the left or the right. But now I was in front of Britta, or next to Britta or, on that drive, behind Britta. I felt like I had fallen under a spell, and it had to stop. I took to chanting silently inside my head on these long rides: No, no, no. No, no, no. Yes.Britta was quiet and mysterious and simply sat in front of me reading Robert Musil's The Man Without Qualities. Playing my six strings to her four was exciting, but I wanted more. I wanted to be her D.J., to play her my favorite songs. And she wanted to hear them. Being in a band is a bit like falling in love anyway, and Britta made the band exciting again.
Our short tour ended at the Electric Factory in Philadelphia. The last time we played here, in 1996, we opened for Lou Reed. I remember being backstage with Lou, waiting to use the men's room, when he sarcastically said, "This is so glamorous, huh?" But it was glamorous for me—I was backstage talking to Lou Reed. And the Electric Factory was high style compared with some of the places Luna had played, like the Jewish Mother in Virginia Beach or Sudsy's in Cincinnati.
Later that year, after a show at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, the band was invited to a dorm-room party by a pretty blonde film student who had been dancing wildly in front of me throughout our set.
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