Posts Tagged ‘dance party’
Signage: “Here Are Some Different Dances You Can Do!”
Circle Bar - New Orleans, LA - September 19, 2008
Call me insane, but I think “Robbin’ the Hood” is one of the best albums of all time
September is half in the bag and the heat and humidity down here are still turning my brain to mush on a daily basis. I’ve been told that there is an end in sight, but I sure as shit haven’t caught a glimpse of it. I will never act like I am going to miss the Chicago winters – the way they arrive out of nowhere with bone-chilling cold and don’t let up until the torrential rains of spring blow through – but I do feel another dose of seasonal affective disorder creeping into my UV-damaged, sweat-soaked psyche.
I think New Orleans is slowly making me insane. Thankfully, this is not the type of “insane” that is caused by a bad breakup and then fueled with a steady diet of prescription pills and whippets. No, no, no. The “insane” I am feeling now is a good thing; maybe the best of things. It is a liberating and enlightening psychosis that makes the Charles Shaw taste sweeter and the drunken heaters seem more satisfying.
Unlike up north, where even in the dog days of summer a pleasant cool breeze tips you off that day is turning into night and, eventually, that summer is fading into fall, the shitbird weather down here is in dire need of a desk calendar and a fucking Flick-Flack. Read the rest of this entry »
No TV? No food? No problem.
A few blocks from my apartment, nestled on a slightly overgrown corner on the one-way stretch of Magazine, you will find The Bridge Lounge. It is one of many hidden treasures I have found here in New Orleans since I arrived six months ago.
What makes this bar so great? Let’s see. They do not serve any food at any time of the day. And they do not have a single television screen anywhere in the bar. These are normally two big strikes AGAINST a drinking establishment in my book.
And the joint also lacks a jukebox. Instead, one of the bartenders just hooks up his iPod to the bar’s sound system and lets it rip. Strike three, right? Wrong. This actually where is all starts to come together and make sense. You see, last Saturday the dudes manning the taps and the tunes played Chocolate and Cheese in it’s entirety. No joke. They played a full Ween album for a diverse crowd on a Saturday night.
The place is just off the beaten path and looks pretty shitty from the outside. And considering the fact it lacks may of things meant to attract casual passers-by – drink specials, late night food, 10 screens of NFL Sunday Ticket, for example – it should come as no surprise that the proprietors see nothing wrong with blasting Ween on a Saturday night. And that is why it is so fucking sweet. Outside of a GLBT biker bar, this place is as take-it-or-leave-it as you can get. And if you do choose to “leave it”, no need to get riled up. Even though Bridge Lounge may feel like it is nestled into it’s own universe of awesomeness, it is actually closer to Balcony and The Bulldog than you may think. Read the rest of this entry »
Rebirth Got Fire
Hmmm. How do I explain the Rebirth Brass Band to someone who has never been to one of their performances?
Or, better still: How do I explain the Rebirth Brass Band to someone who has never even been to New Orleans?
At the heart of it, to understand Rebirth is to understand the effect one of their live shows has on your face. It’s pretty straight forward and extremely predictable: That shit gets melted right off your fucking head. You’ll probably shit your pants, too. And orgasm harder than Rob Schneider at the mention of Denver’s no-huddle offense.
I have never been able to come up with a description of their music that I find satisfactory, and I have had a lot of chances to try. Rebirth Brass Band are one the first things I mention when anyone asks me “How are you liking it down in New Orleans?”
Their mix of traditional brass band sounds, jazz elements like call and response and virtuoso solos, hip hop beats, and serious cow funk grooves is unlike anything I have ever heard in my life. Everyone in the crowd – black, white, old, young – cuts a goddamn rug the entire time. And whether it is an afternoon set at Satchmo Summerfest, a late night blowout at Tipitina’s, or a second line march down Frenchman Street during the Krewe De Vieux parade, they are always on their game.
Enough with failing to describe something like Rebirth with words. Here is a little clip from last night’s show at Howlin’ Wolf:
