So all I will say about the big tragedy is that we lost a very important piece of American culture. Jazz would not exist if it were not for New Orleans, and probably any other form of American music. I slacked on going to Jazz fest, or my slacker friends wouldn’t make the trip, sooo, we missed out. Shit.
Went to see Leo Nocentelli from the Meters, the legendary N.O. band, with 4/5 of Galactic as his back up band at BB Kings, last night. First off, Stanton Moore is officially the best drummer of this generation. Yes, he can shred if necessary, but his ideas on the kit are just freaking outstanding. In 30 years, he will be the next Elvin Jones. Sean Pelton- the drummer from SNL, the dude who always wears the old school news boy looking hat, showed up and sat in for one song. He is one of the top session drummers, plays with EVERYONE and you could tell he felt very nervous about having to follow Stanton. I did however learn a very important lesson at this show:
The random person standing next to you makes all the difference in the world.
Lets examine this theory. I have been to several hundred shows, not counting crappy-ass ska/punk shows put on by dirty ass punks who think they can make a difference politically by not showering and wearing shirts that say things like “Choking Victim”, but lets not get started on that. I’ve stood next to the drunk biker at the Gov’t Mule show when I was 13 who wanted to push me out of the way so his fat ass drunk girlfried could throw herself all over the stage, nice families at Wilco shows who make sure everyone stays quiet during the quiet parts, Little Pete dropping acid at a Phish show, and all those in between.
Last night there was a girl from New Orleans standing next to me and my sister. She was talking a bit, dancing around like a crazy jamband type of fan, yelling things occasionally that I could not at all understand, asking me to save her spot when she went to the bar,but it wasnt too bad. Little did I know what was to come. At the second set she left and some drunk ass dude, and his drunk bitch ass ho moved in. As they approached, they spilled beer on my sister. They proceed to sit on the stage and make out to a degree that far surpasses any form of acceptable PDA. She’s slurring her speech, looking like Long Island’s Finest witht the turquoise tube top, excessive amount of jewlery, and the loudest shrieking voice that exists this side of the Hudson. As they defiled the stage and Leo returned, she goes “Why are these guys coming back? Wheres Galactic? ” I said Galactic isnt playing” I omitted “You Trick Ass Ho, get out of here”. She was holding several drinks, each arranged on the stage in front of her, which just spelled spillage. Lo And Behold, 15 minutes later, BEER ALL OVER THE FLOOR. could it have been one of the small shots or half empty mixed drinks? no. It had to bee the full plastic cup of freaking beer. She then slurred “sorrrrry, honey, why did you make me do that? now youuuuuu have to get anotherrr”
I’ve been having some weird nightmares recently. I slept on a couch in Boston 2 nights ago, and the result was not pleasant. In this dream, every person in the house was walking past me and exiting through the front door, each time the door was opened, the season would change. So when it was snowing out, I got up to sleep in the snow. Dont ask me why, I’m weird like that. So, i’m sleeping in the snow, and this Corvette pulls up right in front of me, and this guido named Frank gets out and starts harassing me. I start to freak out and he’s trying to fight me, with his slicked up hair and gold chain, then I woke up, because one of the people in the house was walking by me, and opened the front door. That was fucking freaky.
So yeah, I went to Boston. Its very interesting to go back to your old college town. I took the fabulous Chinatown Bus up there, which is now semi-legit arriving in South Station instead of Sketch-tastic chinatown, but is now 15$ instead of $10. I put my brain on semi auto pilot and took the T to Harvard Square to meet my homeboy BUD. Now, recently, I’ve been suffering from what I like to call “Snoop Dog Syndrome” or SDS as I like to call it. Sufferers of SDS experience the need to add “Izzle” to words or letters, at random times. So, I almost called BUD, B-U-Dizzle. I made a mix CD which was the 3rd in a series and called it Mix Thrizzle. Now, ebonics coming from a while Jewish kid with big hair, is kind of like Lil John talking Yiddish, saying “Oy Vey” in his signature style. I’m trying to fight it, we’ll see how it works.