Gothic Theatre

Good Night Tulsa

There is a guy standing in front of you who looks a little like an English Lit. professor who slept in his car last night. He has dirt under his fingernails and is holding a wrinkled black and white photograph of what looks like the interior of an apartment in New York City. In the photo a girl is sitting on a couch looking at the back of a boy hunched over, playing an upright piano stacked high with books next to a tall window. The curtains are blowing. It’s night. On the back of the photograph, written in black ink, it reads: Good Night Tulsa. A car drives by and you hear rocknroll for a second. It makes you think of something.

Good Night Tulsa is a band. We live in America. We eat. We play music influenced by late model sedans, bad coffee, pictures ripped out of magazines, insomnia, people who can’t dance, strange inscriptions in old books, junk yards, self-hypnosis tapes, horses that limp, old computers, and the future. We freak out. We play loud music softly and soft music loudly. And loud music loudly. Not everything needs to be explained but this might make more sense if we just met in person. Call me.