Ok- so I'm living in the past. I've been collecting stuff like Long John Baldry and other blues for several years as well as expanding my collection of psychedelic and classic rock and having just begun to figure out how to burn compilations cd's- *FOR PRIVATE AND PERSONAL USE IN MY CAR ONLY* (Gotta have that for the lawyers,--sharks and thieves that they and their corporate clients are..) so have been busy playing around with that. So tonight after getting bored with the computer I decide to go check out the local talent at another local gin mill and music venue just to see if lightning will strike and give me a reason to hope for some original and decent local music.
The gin mill in question has been a local institution for over 30 years. Generations of 20-somethings have graced it's bar stools, tables and dingy restrooms,and danced their way through at least two layers of ancient floor-tile and have begun to make serious headway on the third, much as an archaeologist would dig farther down to go back in time. The back room containing two warped and listing pool tables, electronic dart boards and access to the loos-(one each for the ladies and the gents) provides minimal auditory refuge from the cacophony emanating from the platform in the center of the building that passes as a stage for whatever group of alleged musicians/artists happen to have been booked for the night. The walls in this sanctuary are covered with a variety of playbills advertising upcoming acts, and permanent marker graffiti, which in any other place be considered vandalism.The same graffiti inspired decor is once again repeated in the loos- however with decidedly more vulgar content, which makes the condom machine hanging on the wall of the ladies loo appear decidedly upscale.
All that said- the drink prices are more than reasonable and T and D the regular bartenders late at night are more than competent at handling a bar full of overly happy intellectual wannabes who for some reason think that whatever band or musician playing is just the greatest ever at playing their interpretations of Grateful Dead covers. Now- don't get me wrong here- I like the Grateful Dead. I like Hendrix. I even like some head banging grunge a la Nirvana. Regrettably- in this town, this one bar is the Mecca for cheap cover charges to hear live music and the owners aren't too picky about the quality of said musicians. Which is OK if you are a musician trying to make your way to stardom. After all, ya gotta start somewhere. Unfortunately- originality tends to go out the window as the crowd wants to hear sets that more closely resemble the play list on their I-pod.
Tonight was billed as an open jam- ok- maybe someone would try to do some original material, and maybe I wouldn't have to sit through a 45 minute 'jam' of 'Red House', 'Little Wing',and 'Are You Experienced' with the 'The Star Spangled Banner' in the spirit of, yet generally, poorly executed, style of Jimi Hendrix as the grand finale. Having watched this weekly tableau and had my ears assaulted on a regular basis for a number of years I've come to recognise some of the regular players, and many of them have made considerable progress in their abilities. But in order to keep from going insane in the course of three hours one must, by necessity, consume one or more of the following: -adult beverages or alternatively, partake of controlled substances in the loo. Without the aforementioned medication the only other method of survival is to be completely tone deaf.
1 comment:
Your post made ME smile. I can almost smell the stale beer!
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