i don’t know exactly how much Rigor you usually require in the chronological elements of a Story; hopefully not much. ever been to Fat Cat? a basement gathering Chamber with a small jazz band, couches, chess, scrabble, brews, ping pong, and shuffle board. there is something supremely satisfying about the level of Friction on a shuffle board table, ooh that glide!
later, on the night i discovered this fine spot, i found myself drifting across streets looking for those farout Physicists, wielding their unworldly Instruments, men and women singing and dancing, on a couple different Sundays in fact, and through a window i spied a big Bass Man getting his stage ready. we slooped into the Red Lion and posted up as an Irish (or was he Australian?) country singer took the room, set against his grooving Rhythym Section.
everybody proceeded as planned until we came across this particular tune. a brilliantly upsetting version of Billie Jean. there were looks of amazement and outbursts of Outburstings. our Disbelief was only satisfied after the Singer admitted he had modeled his rendition after Chris Cornell’s (below). that said, our Evening was a whole hell of a lot funkier.
tonight i thought to myself, yes yes yes i should write a Gonzoreview of the Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros concert i went to on Governor’s Island this week. but i’m in no mood to Fool around so i’m gonna give it to you straight(-Ish). Matt and Jill and i slunk down church street to the toy Ferry building, on line Anthony held a sign saying “one Extra ticket”, which corrected both our lack of Entrance and his Company.
onwards over water and under sunset, with glowing Gorgeous faces building our swarm, toward gates, concrete, Sand, and stage. (geez, i’ve already Lied to you!)
here’s where i tell you about the opening bands… … … and then Miss Kansas grabbed my hands, screaming that she could read Palms. my left Palm was duly presented, but our previously gleeful relationship turned Sour as she gazed at me with terror, whispering “i dont want to read your Future no more”. i asked her if something Horrible was going to happen, and in all serious and uncontrollable meekness she replied Yes. with Giggles and Smiles i said “maybe it has Already happened.” “No,” she said, “it hasn’t.” she kept repeating “i’m so sorry” and stumbled Away.
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros are a Tribe out on a desert Plateau Celebrating some secret nighttime happenings that we can only guess at…but the Invitation stands and so do we, arms above shooting out into the sky, Wild dancing, singing, and bodies. Jade is Maniacal and Stewart (the trumpeter) is encouraging the Pandemonium. this Abraxas inspired beach scene ends abruptly – orderly folks Vanquishing their previously Chaotic alter egos for ferry rushing body motion.
but Alex, walking out into a now thinning crowd, beckons us to Sit Down with him. after few respond he says, “tomorrow morning you’re gonna say, man i wish i was One of the Ones who sat down,” as if we had burst into his living room to find him lazing on his Rocking Chair, sipping scotch, and gently offering us the opposing seat…with this Invitation we are all in it together, sitting around him on the concrete, as he weeps out ‘Brother’. he says goodnight but doesn’t leave – it’s his Home and he has offered his Companionship until the come down is complete.
and then we began our own Glazey stretch back to Brooklyn, echoes of Prince and the late night postspectacularglow Revelers teasing my perpetual dance syndrome. bellows of Who Do You Love? (i gotta wide brimmed hat with black wire, i gotta ship full of gas on sun fire…), a late night last call mid ferry ride Partially pathetic rendition of American Pie (with Mike Kern tagging along via voicemail), and then the streets betrayed my saning Mind (don’t worry, it was Mutual.)
after skipping out of McSorley’s at closing time, arm in arm with two good friends, singing Whisky in the Jar at the top of our lungs, the rest of the gang caught up to us near Tompkins Square Park. i was propped up on a bar’s patio, while two other renegades downed forties from a brown paper bag as they camped out on the adjacent porch. we were hollering Tom Waits and the sleeping boy in the back, holding down our table and ordering more beers, when we heard the yell.
a lunatic thin man ran down the street with a suitcase above his head, screaming his ancient barbarian warcry. before slamming full speed into the SUV in front of us his body halted, and his arms waled the suitcase into the car’s side. he picked up his load and smashed it again and again, then the suitcase was on the ground and he was off around the corner squealing with glee.
i moseyed over to investigate – no damage but a scene far more perilous: a spiderman-clad rickshaw driver (walker?, pusher?) was pulling two chortling girls as replacements for our mysterious warrior. as i approached, he let them down and became enamored with the suitcasewielding soldier story.
meanwhile one of the girls took his place and was carriaging her friend away. i guess he saw tips and i saw two women, as we rushed over the pusher saw divine promise in suddenly letting go of her charge and having her friend’s skull hurtle back towards earth. now the rickshaw was kinda open in the back and her head almost splattered into the concrete – an inch and a bit of cushion saved her – but this peril was no peril to these two – up and onwards and then whipping back down to the street in another near collision. i argued but why should they care? back i went to the bar, and off the girls went like Didi and Gogo (or maybe more like two variants of Lucky with our Spiderman enshrined Pozzo pretending to direct them).
what horrors or heavens launched these folks down our tiny street, and would the evening’s descent into morning finally evaporate my midnight eidolons?
last thursday’s last last thursday i Toasted the afternoon and watched the original Alice in Wonderland in a buddy’s apartment. the previous saturday i had been driving home with a friend of mine, having just watched the new one at a Local Theater, we were listening to Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes, it was four in the morning (the Clocks had just changed) and i was Screaming at him that the new one was a Bummer and we had to watch the original right then and there. lucky for me, he had more sense, and an alice in wonderland Hiatus pushed the watching on to thursday.
quick interlude – i promised myself that if i were to write about alice, i wouldn’t Blather on about the new movie, wasting my breathe and your vision, so to make it brief: it wasn’t just a bummer, it was the dreaded ‘Total Bummer’.
from “If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary-wise; what it is it wouldn’t be, and what it wouldn’t be, it would,” to the crazy colors of Shrinking Alice and the ever Weirding voice of the Chesire Cat (yes yes yes he’s Winnie the Pooh!), we ravaged on two Growlers from Bierkraft and some silly Subwayversations, on and on, of course the Mad Tea Party and “Dont Step on the MOME RATHS!!!”
Don't Step On the Mome Raths
and then we were out on the street, soho in the early evening, investigating passing conversations and Howling at the sidewalk, hotdogs and those crazy Outfits, we finally found our outdoor pizzeria but i needed to go, back Underground to brooklyn for musical endeavors.
Het Folks! i spent thursday Walking around Park Slope, in search of sidewalk space. i’m helping to set up Make Music New York – a yearly festival of outdoor concerts on June twentyfirst. right now restaurants and shop owners, and Musicians and bands can sign up to either have music in front of their store or to play outside on June twentyfirst. i like being the surveyor of a Realm, if only for a few hours.
Bury Me A Lion @ Make Music New York 2009
these people aren’t happy when you first walk in with a clip board and a running mouth, but automatic Resistance gives way to skeptical Discernment as they realize that the festival is actually free and i’m not asking for money. then there is excitement and wrappingtheirheadsaroundit conversation.
point is, i’m out there putting Tupelo Honey into our Communal Coffee (and i dont even like coffee). do you like to play outside? then Sign up for june 21st: http://timeoutny.com/makemusic
on saturday i went into the night with a jacket full of song lyrics and a growler full of beer, and headed over to a friend of a friend’s songwriters’ potluck. more of a songluck than anything else. the music was great – ranging from a folksy sci fi song cycle taking place 300 years in the future, to a tune whose words i couldn’t make out but everybody seemed to be singing along to, and one about a bear and an otter in different decades of their married life together. peculier indeed.
Lyrics from The Lion For Real: There’s a lion lying by herself
Beside our open bedroom door.
She gazed up at me with
Those rheumy yellowed eyes,
I screamed out Lion For Real!
And I rushed out onto the fire escape,
Looking in I noticed it withering away,
And when she coughed and wheezed,
I cried Eat Me Or Die!
But she stood up, roared, and limped away.
If you walk in and find me wasting away,
Will you still hold me in your arms?
i sung two of my new songs – “The Lion For Real” (whose semitheme comes from the eponymous Ginsberg poem) and “We’re All Disappointed”. though i’m not usually one for singing my own songs, i enjoyed the evening thoroughly. i also played an old tune from 1947, “Cigareetes, Whusky, and Wild, Wild Women,” which I had first heard from the Low Anthem.