Capsule thoughts and a short play from several days in the new New Orleans
Zydeco lives at the Mid-City Lanes! Chris Ardoin and NuStep delivered some serious, r&b-powered stuff. My CD just came in the mail today, and it's amazing to hear how hip-hop it actually is (even with accordion...check out some sounds here). In conversation, I struggle to explain how what I'm really into about music is the tradition. Blues into early jazz into R&B into rock into soul into funk into??? When a band like this (or Rebirth Brass Band, which I saw twice last week), takes the stage, they live and play what I think I know. It's something else.
-----------------------
PARKING LOT ALTERCATION FROM THE MID-CITY LANES ROCK-N-BOWL
As experienced and written by R. Bellinger
AN ORANGE MERCURY CAB PULLS UP TO THE BLANK FACADE OF THE MID-CITY LANES ROCK-N-BOWL. WITHIN THE LARGE RECTANGULAR BUILDING, THE BAND'S DRUM AND BASS CAN BE HEARD THUMPING TOGETHER. A HANDWRITTEN SIGN READS: "Chris Ardoin $8." TWO GLASS DOORS SEPARATE THE DARK STAIRCASE THAT RISES TO THE DANCE FLOOR AND BOWLING LANES FROM THE SILENT PARKING LOT. RB, WEARING AN OLD-MAN-LIKE, YELLOW, SHORTSLEEVE, STRIPED SHIRT, EXITS THE CAB FIRST AND APPROACHES THE DOORWAY. SUDDENLY, A MIDDLE-AGED DRUNK MAN, BALDING AND WITH A LARGE TRIANGLE OF SWEAT POINTING FROM THE NECK OF HIS OPEN RED POLO SHIRT TO HIS CROTCH, EMERGES INTO THE PARKING LOT. HE STUMBLES TOWARD RB.
Wet Polo Shirt Man (to RB): You're about to see an excellent band!
RB: Cool.
(SECONDS LATER, A LEAN, FIFTY-SOMETHING, HUNCHBACKED MAN EMERGES FROM THE SAME STAIRWELL WEARING A GRAY SUIT, NO TIE, LARGE GLASSES, AND A MILITARY-STYLE BERET. HE WALKS WITH A HEAVY LIMP AND THE AID OF A THICK, WOODEN CANE. BERET MAN PRODUCES A FOLDED FIVE-DOLLAR BILL AND, WITH THE AID OF HIS CANE, STUMBLES TOWARD RB. HE THRUSTS THE FIVE DOLLAR BILL INTO RB'S FACE.
RB: Free money!?
Wet Polo Shirt Man: (LAUGHS LOUDLY AT BERET MAN)
Beret Man: (TO RB) You're not the homeless guy I thought you was! (TO WET POLO SHIRT MAN, WITH AN ARROGANT COCK OF THE HEAD). You better stop laughin', or this retired lieutenant colonel in the US Marine Corps will put you to sleep. Humph! (HE TURNS TO RE-ENTER THE BUILDINIG)
Wet Polo Shirt Man: (TO RB) What an asshole!
Beret Man: (TURNING SHARPLY AND POINTING HIS CANE AT WET POLO SHIRT MAN) PRICK! (HE RE-ENTERS THE BUILDING AND ASCENDS THE STAIRCASE. WET POLO SHIRT MAN DISAPPEARS INTO THE NIGHT.)
***
(A FEW SECONDS PASS. RB ENTERS THE ROCK-N-BOWL. SUDDENLY, BOWLING ALLEY WOMAN, A FRUMPY, UNATTRACTIVE, AND SHORT WOMAN IN HER MID-30S APPEARS, MOVING RAPIDLY DOWN THE STAIRS WITH A LOOK OF CONCERN ON HER BESPECTACLED FACE. AS SHE APPROACHES, SHE QUICKLY CONCEALS A LARGE WAD OF CASH IN HER PANTS POCKET.)
Bowling Alley Woman: (TO RB) What happened with him?
RB: It was the other guy.
---------------------
Hipsters look the same here (N.O.) as they do everywhere else: elderly versions of lost teenagers. Same clothes, same product. The people I made fun of in Brooklyn were easy targets because of how hard they tried to be different. The artists in America's b-cities are easy to make fun of because they all look the same.
-----------------------
PARKING LOT ALTERCATION FROM THE MID-CITY LANES ROCK-N-BOWL
As experienced and written by R. Bellinger
AN ORANGE MERCURY CAB PULLS UP TO THE BLANK FACADE OF THE MID-CITY LANES ROCK-N-BOWL. WITHIN THE LARGE RECTANGULAR BUILDING, THE BAND'S DRUM AND BASS CAN BE HEARD THUMPING TOGETHER. A HANDWRITTEN SIGN READS: "Chris Ardoin $8." TWO GLASS DOORS SEPARATE THE DARK STAIRCASE THAT RISES TO THE DANCE FLOOR AND BOWLING LANES FROM THE SILENT PARKING LOT. RB, WEARING AN OLD-MAN-LIKE, YELLOW, SHORTSLEEVE, STRIPED SHIRT, EXITS THE CAB FIRST AND APPROACHES THE DOORWAY. SUDDENLY, A MIDDLE-AGED DRUNK MAN, BALDING AND WITH A LARGE TRIANGLE OF SWEAT POINTING FROM THE NECK OF HIS OPEN RED POLO SHIRT TO HIS CROTCH, EMERGES INTO THE PARKING LOT. HE STUMBLES TOWARD RB.
Wet Polo Shirt Man (to RB): You're about to see an excellent band!
RB: Cool.
(SECONDS LATER, A LEAN, FIFTY-SOMETHING, HUNCHBACKED MAN EMERGES FROM THE SAME STAIRWELL WEARING A GRAY SUIT, NO TIE, LARGE GLASSES, AND A MILITARY-STYLE BERET. HE WALKS WITH A HEAVY LIMP AND THE AID OF A THICK, WOODEN CANE. BERET MAN PRODUCES A FOLDED FIVE-DOLLAR BILL AND, WITH THE AID OF HIS CANE, STUMBLES TOWARD RB. HE THRUSTS THE FIVE DOLLAR BILL INTO RB'S FACE.
RB: Free money!?
Wet Polo Shirt Man: (LAUGHS LOUDLY AT BERET MAN)
Beret Man: (TO RB) You're not the homeless guy I thought you was! (TO WET POLO SHIRT MAN, WITH AN ARROGANT COCK OF THE HEAD). You better stop laughin', or this retired lieutenant colonel in the US Marine Corps will put you to sleep. Humph! (HE TURNS TO RE-ENTER THE BUILDINIG)
Wet Polo Shirt Man: (TO RB) What an asshole!
Beret Man: (TURNING SHARPLY AND POINTING HIS CANE AT WET POLO SHIRT MAN) PRICK! (HE RE-ENTERS THE BUILDING AND ASCENDS THE STAIRCASE. WET POLO SHIRT MAN DISAPPEARS INTO THE NIGHT.)
***
(A FEW SECONDS PASS. RB ENTERS THE ROCK-N-BOWL. SUDDENLY, BOWLING ALLEY WOMAN, A FRUMPY, UNATTRACTIVE, AND SHORT WOMAN IN HER MID-30S APPEARS, MOVING RAPIDLY DOWN THE STAIRS WITH A LOOK OF CONCERN ON HER BESPECTACLED FACE. AS SHE APPROACHES, SHE QUICKLY CONCEALS A LARGE WAD OF CASH IN HER PANTS POCKET.)
Bowling Alley Woman: (TO RB) What happened with him?
RB: It was the other guy.
---------------------
Hipsters look the same here (N.O.) as they do everywhere else: elderly versions of lost teenagers. Same clothes, same product. The people I made fun of in Brooklyn were easy targets because of how hard they tried to be different. The artists in America's b-cities are easy to make fun of because they all look the same.
posted by Rob at 11:03 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home