Music: toe-tappin'
Food: comfort food and brunch at the same time - genius.
Booze: bloody mary
Overall: 3 out of 5
I had a brunch meeting today with a couple of lawyer friends of mine to discuss potential business for my band, tandoorifinger. We chose Threadgills gospel brunch, primarily because we didn't realize what a big deal the infamous Stubb's gospel brunch is, and the fact that they don't even accept reservations past Saturday afternoon for a Sunday.
I never heard the name of the band at all, and I didn't recognize most of the songs they played. But they were pretty good, and stuck by their man Jesus. Though I generally try to avoid all things religious, especially on Sunday, it was actually a refreshing change from what I usually listen to.
Brunch was delicious, with sweet potato pancakes, buttery grits and migas as the highlights. And the bloody mary's really helped unite last night's hangover with this morning's allergy/sinus headache. Ironic how people always say they are drinking after a hangover to get a hair of the dog that bit them, when today it was actual dog hair that seemed to be driving my allergies insane.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey @ The Parish
Music: check
Food: didn't eat quite enough leftovers
Booze: plenty
Overall: 5 out of 5
Perhaps it can be attributed to the wake of South By, but The Parish was only half full last night for one of the best acts to come through Austin in a while. Even the (totally hot) barkeep acknowledged that while half the town was missing out, at least we were getting essentially a private show. More on her later.
Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey was everything you want from an odyssey: blisteringly tight jazz fusion, and several dudes who were not named Jacob or Fred. Perfect. Homer clearly left out a chapter or two, since his music comes from sirens, and at least one of them was named Fred.
The band was tight as, well, metaphors would only take away here since they keep writing themselves as utterly inappropriate. But believe me, for as young as these guys were it was hard to believe they had not been touring in the days of Miles Davis, Mahavishnu Orchestra and Chick Corea's Return to Forever.
The instrumentation consisted of electric piano, 1/4 bass, drums and electric guitar/lap steel, leaving no room for the non-existent vocals. I remember the first few tunes being very good, but forgiving them a bit in my mind for what I thought was a 95% at songwriting (yes, obviously a high mark - I judge at all levels). Then the tunes started getting better and better until i realized my grading scale was useless. For the last half hour I expected every tune to be the end of the night, since I simply could not imagine them having yet a more cohesive and fresh exploration of groove than the one I was at any moment experiencing. Then they did. Righteous.
The evening was further complicated by an entourage of doppelgangers. I had left my camera in the car so I was ill-equipped to document the scene, but tandoorifinger's keyboard player Shaheen looked to be playing keys for the opening act Funkotron, and our audio engineer Brian seemed to be playing bass. I had no idea he played.
Then came the ultimate in surreal: I was watching myself play drums for JFJO. Granted, there were copious amounts of alcohol involved, but my reality was melting. I could not distinguish myself from this person performing 30 feet away. His playing style was similar to mine, and I felt where the groove came from. I then started wondering if that was what I look like when I play, if I have the same mannerisms and what not. Then I realized it wasn't a twisted universe where I was able to sneak a peak of myself somewhere; I was just twisted drunk, being retarded.
After they finished, I went to talk to them to let them know how much I enjoyed the set, and mostly because I was so compelled by the existence of alter-me. Maybe he's a jerk. Or maybe he's cool, and it turns out I'm the jerk. In the world of copies, it can be hard to know which version you really want to be. Of course, the conversation was mostly just me being drunk and excited about their music, and then realizing I didn't really have shit to say. So we left.
Oh, but we did stop to ogle the totally hot bar tender on our way out. Ridiculous. I joke how hot girls look really smart, but seriously, she looked very, very smart. And talented.
Food: didn't eat quite enough leftovers
Booze: plenty
Overall: 5 out of 5
Perhaps it can be attributed to the wake of South By, but The Parish was only half full last night for one of the best acts to come through Austin in a while. Even the (totally hot) barkeep acknowledged that while half the town was missing out, at least we were getting essentially a private show. More on her later.
Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey was everything you want from an odyssey: blisteringly tight jazz fusion, and several dudes who were not named Jacob or Fred. Perfect. Homer clearly left out a chapter or two, since his music comes from sirens, and at least one of them was named Fred.
The band was tight as, well, metaphors would only take away here since they keep writing themselves as utterly inappropriate. But believe me, for as young as these guys were it was hard to believe they had not been touring in the days of Miles Davis, Mahavishnu Orchestra and Chick Corea's Return to Forever.
The instrumentation consisted of electric piano, 1/4 bass, drums and electric guitar/lap steel, leaving no room for the non-existent vocals. I remember the first few tunes being very good, but forgiving them a bit in my mind for what I thought was a 95% at songwriting (yes, obviously a high mark - I judge at all levels). Then the tunes started getting better and better until i realized my grading scale was useless. For the last half hour I expected every tune to be the end of the night, since I simply could not imagine them having yet a more cohesive and fresh exploration of groove than the one I was at any moment experiencing. Then they did. Righteous.
The evening was further complicated by an entourage of doppelgangers. I had left my camera in the car so I was ill-equipped to document the scene, but tandoorifinger's keyboard player Shaheen looked to be playing keys for the opening act Funkotron, and our audio engineer Brian seemed to be playing bass. I had no idea he played.
Then came the ultimate in surreal: I was watching myself play drums for JFJO. Granted, there were copious amounts of alcohol involved, but my reality was melting. I could not distinguish myself from this person performing 30 feet away. His playing style was similar to mine, and I felt where the groove came from. I then started wondering if that was what I look like when I play, if I have the same mannerisms and what not. Then I realized it wasn't a twisted universe where I was able to sneak a peak of myself somewhere; I was just twisted drunk, being retarded.
After they finished, I went to talk to them to let them know how much I enjoyed the set, and mostly because I was so compelled by the existence of alter-me. Maybe he's a jerk. Or maybe he's cool, and it turns out I'm the jerk. In the world of copies, it can be hard to know which version you really want to be. Of course, the conversation was mostly just me being drunk and excited about their music, and then realizing I didn't really have shit to say. So we left.
Oh, but we did stop to ogle the totally hot bar tender on our way out. Ridiculous. I joke how hot girls look really smart, but seriously, she looked very, very smart. And talented.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Sex, Drugs and Rock'n'Roll
"As long as there's, you know, sex and drugs, I can do without the rock and roll."
-Mick Shrimpton (drummer, Spinal Tap)
No - strike, that reverse it. Though sex and drugs have their place, music is the bee's knees. Go experience some.
-Mick Shrimpton (drummer, Spinal Tap)
No - strike, that reverse it. Though sex and drugs have their place, music is the bee's knees. Go experience some.
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