Hi, my name is Michelle and I have recently become obsessed with the musicians coming to Byron Bay. First it was the 18 year olds of MGMT who came into the same cafe I was in three days in a row, and just yesterday it was Donavon Frankenreiter. Where I spend my days is situated across the street from the hotel the musos stay at, so I spend the days leading up to a big gig stalking the front door. Here’s how a couple of incidences have gone down:
Two weeks ago a couple of the guys from MGMT walked into the cafe I was in and had breaky and a coffee. They sat for about 45 minutes before I realized they were probably with the band. It was two days before the show, so I wasn’t sure, but they just had that rich-kid from New York teenage look to them. A guy working behind the counter figured the best way to see if it was them was to blare one of their songs throughout the shop. Sure enough, they smiled to each other and then turned to us to give the international “good job” signal – a thumbs up. We were stoked, and so excited to see them later in the week! Although I will say they were nice, some of them were pretty douchey. No big deal.
The show was incredible and situated across the street from the beach. I don’t think I have ever been so incredibly sweaty in my entire life, although the finger-pointing and eye contact from the drummer and the bass player made up for everything. They loved me, but I think dropping a line about my boyfriend blew any chances I had of hitting up the after party. That’s right Blake, I love you that much.
As for Donavon, he freakin rocked everything. He did what most famous musos do in Byron – he went busking. He hit the streets with his band and played a few songs before heading back to his hotel to prepare for the big night. At the point of watching him walk into his hotel, I still hadn’t bought a ticket. I was a bit stubborn about the whole thing because I didn’t feel like paying $45, but his poster did say “Donavon Frankenreiter and special guests,” which made me think it had to be Jack Johnson. Seriously, they are best friends and Jack is the only reason Donavon is a big deal. He also lives here part-time, so why wouldn’t it be him?? In any case, I broke and decided to write Donavon a letter and drop it at reception. The letter was written on carbon order-taking paper from the cafe and posed a fair question. Would Donavon be up for a trade? I would give him a free breakfast, coffee, and juice in exchange for tickets to the show. Fair enough.
Just before I walked over to his hotel, I met this guy who just so happened to be Donavon’s tour manager. I proceeded to tell him all about the letter, to which he commended me, and then told me they were leaving at 5am, so that just wouldn’t work. He promised to pass on the word to Donavon though, which was rather nice of him.
One thing lead to another, and before I knew it I was dead set on going and purchasing one of the last tickets available. They ended up closing ticket sales moments before we hit “buy,” which was discouraging, but didn’t stop us from going that night and listening out on the grass. With a lot of bullshit, some smiles, and literally pulling money out of our pockets to hand to the bouncer, they ended up letting us in for free. AWESOME! All that chaos lead to good things….and a blurry picture of me and the big man. If only I had brought something more than a camera phone…..