In one of those everyday Friday occurences i get an email saying a music artist from the past is up for interviews. This time it's Dean Friedman, moustachioed New Jersey singer songwriter of Lucky Stars fame, a fave guilty pleasure that's as old as my wife, 34.
I ponder it for a while, get curious and check his gigs. He's playing 10 miles away in Selby. It's fate.
Wife gets back from same place and half an hour later we're heading back there.
Selby Town Hall is a modest little venue full of pensioners and a few boozed up fans. Ironically one of his biggest forgets to turn off her annoying phone and almost ruins the end of the gig.
Truth is fate had a good go scuppering it with a faulty power lead to his Korg synth dying a few times.
He battles on regardless and his version if Lucky Stars on guitar, a first apparently, is superb, not least because of the audience helping out with the female half of the vocals.
It's a fun gig, Dean's unique vocals on a par with Barry Gibb for falsetto riffs and trills as music journos might call them.
Most surreal moment of the night is his response to Half Man Half Biscuit's 80s hit The Bastard Son of Dean Friedman. As witty retorts go it's inspired lunacy, a little like most of the show.