Monday, October 02, 2006

Life as a Fun-Seeking Gypsy

People were waiting anxiously outside the door of the Ebar, a martini bar where some of the most flavorful bands came to play. Somewhat frustrating was it to finally make it through the door only to realize that the longer half of the line was still in front of you, all the way up the steps. But good things come to those who wait. My belly was full from a gourmet steak barbecue I had just attended. My friends were surrounding me, their breath minted with the scent of vinaigrette salad dressing with raspberries and almonds.

The first band was a light ska band that got many people jumping, while it made others laugh. I thought they were fun, energetic, silly and generally a good band to party too. No complaints. But I was waiting for the Pocket Dwellers. Once they came, their music took me like a spasm of ecstasy. It was like a voyage through the deepest jungles to be assaulted by crazed monkeys, only that the monkeys were beautiful notes, melodies and words delivered in rapid-fire. Pocket Dwellers are real hip-hop, artfully composed with thoughtful messages and escorted by saxophone and other real instruments. I've seen them take a word given at randomn from the audience, then freestyle a three-minute story ending with that magic word. That takes huge talent to keep it going consistently and not have it turn out as incoherent muddle. There are no djs but real talent. I'd have to say the highlight was the performance of Trush Us. Pocket Dwellers are a must see for anyone who would appreciate jazz undertones wrapped in words.

Trust Us by Pocketdwellers. This video doesn't capture the raw texture and enthusiasm of their live performance but it gives you a hint of who they are.

I went home to sleep on my new single bed. I like that it is up against the wall so that I can sleep against two surfaces instead of one. I live in a new house now, which makes me accessible to many things, including a convenience store, friends, music and paved streets that accommodate my skateboard, all within walking distance. I'm not yet living in the room I'll be moving into within the next month. Right now my things are sprawled throughout the basement and I have no internet connection (I'm now using a public computer). I'm in transient mode. However, it's a comfortable little space of my own for the time being, with my clothes hanging from water pipes in the ceiling, the washing machine talking to itself in the room next door, everything I need, organized into boxes within my reach.

The next day I had the pleasure of enjoying some locally-grown music. There was a secret place by the river, just a small house actually. I had called my bassist to see whether we could get together to jam ourselves. "No, actually I'm playing a show with my other band." So he was prostituting himself was he? Well, I thought, if you can't beat them, join them. I might as well see what kind of music my bassist was having an affair with. When I arrived, there was a bonfire and several university kids making academic talk. They were discussing biology or bantering about the phenomenal sensory experience of bats or the ontological argument or something like that. A keyboard gently hummed under the tent they had set up with lights for the venue and the singer sang sad songs about obsessing for a lost lover. Within a few minutes the party took a drastic change. Someone announced that the police had called and so we would have to go inside. Little did we know how much better things were in there anyway. It was much more intimate squeezed between bodies. They took the paintings off the wall so that they wouldn't be damaged and people wound up the staircase, nuzzled in shoulder to shoulder and got ready to rock. The first of a series of bands was the Elbow Beach Surf Club, a very fun and psychedelic improvisational group. The microphone wasn't balanced enough to hear the lyrics and the drums were deafeningly loud in the small room. However, once you got used to it, the music was wonderful. As the night progressed, I got to see my bassists band. I heard them mostly from the kitchen where I had roamed to acquaint myself with the organizers of the show. Mandolins and banjo music was a nice calming ending to the night.

Then there was the 'white trash' (all races welcome) party that my friends had organized for my friend's 25th birthday. They dressed up in flannel plaid jackets, wigs, put on too much make-up, cheap dresses and talked in urban slang, resembling something from the Trailer Park Boys. We listened to Guns n Roses, Alice Cooper and Metallica as we slammed back forties and talked of making it big some day -like getting a job as a janitor in the city. The most brilliant game that we came up with started with the idea of attaching the umbrellas that some people brought (to avoid rain) to the ceiling fan. Miraculously, the fan continued to turn at a quick pace with the added weight of the open umbrellas, which swung around and around. Thinking like the kind of degenerates we are, we thought it was a worthwhile competition to see who could throw empty beer cans at the ceiling and get them to bounce into the upside-down umbrellas as they swung around. With two umbrellas side-by-side, it was quite challenging to time it properly so that your beer can wasn't repelled. Soon everyone joined in hooting and hollering when a beer can was successfully scored into one of the umbrellas. Luckily, Lucifer jumped in and turned off the fan and dismounted the umbrellas before we got too out of control.

The rest of my weekend was relaxing then uncomfortable. I went golfing on Sunday with my new housemates and ordered in Vietnamese. Throughout the week I had sneezing and a runny nose which I attributed to the seasonal pollenation of fall. However, my allergies turned into sickness and I needed to retire early last night only to wake up several times shivering and sweating, with my nose running like a faucet, or worse, completely clogged. I suppose a week so packed with music and fun is bound to burn you out, meaning I'll have to get some more rest these next few days...so that I can do it all over again.

Personal Diegesis

3 Comments:

Blogger Chloe said...

i am going to send you a present for your new home.
hope you are feeling better. also, i am shocked. i didn't know you had a skateboard. you are so young! :P

1:30 PM  
Anonymous Jason said...

Are you still in the same city(not sure if I should divulge that on a blog) or have you finally moved to our big city?

3:13 PM  
Blogger sirbarrett said...

chloe -Did you think I was a decrepid old man? I'm no Tony Hawk but I do have a skateboard which gets me from point A to point B.

jason -I am in a city. I am not in your city. I am near your city. That is all the information we can give you at this time.

5:51 PM  

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