Science and Sounds (and squirrels)

I was sitting on my deck this morning, coffee in hand, observing the various sciuridae (squirrels).

They were doing what they always do: running, jumping, digging, etc.

One said sciuridae made a spectacular leap in which he/she/it jumped from one tree-branch to another, and then proceeded to use the second branch as a catapult to get to a third branch.

So it makes me think, "Do squirrels have a fundamental understanding of physics?"

Ok. Strange, I know.

But what's not so strange is that my way cool band, the most excellent BMR4, will be performing a CD release concert on Sunday, Nov. 21 at the glorious and family friendly Martyr's, 3855 N. Lincoln Ave. in Chicago.

At long last, BMR4 will be releasing the new record- an extended EP entitled "Fixing a Hole", featuring selections by Lennon/McCartney and Chicago legend Herbie Hancock, among others.

We're really excited about the record and we want you to come. It's an early concert, we're doing one set, and it's all ages. Bring your kids, your friends, their friends, everyone.

It's only a $5 cover charge, the kitchen will be open, and...
EVERYBODY WILL GET A COPY OF THE NEW RECORD!!!

(when I say record, I mean that you get a CD or a download card- your choice. Maybe next time we'll have vinyl)

We're asking for $15 for the disc or $10 for the download card. If you can swing that, great. If you want to pay less than that, no problem- pay what you're willing/able. If you think that it was only worth the price of admission, don't sweat it. Seriously. It's free, if you want.

The point is that we WANT YOU to have our music. So please come to the concert.

http://bmr4.com/
http://martyrslive.com/

(We'll also have copies of our previous recording "Turning Point"(CD's only), as well as our debut recording "BMR4".)

So it goes...

Dylan Review

I went and saw Bob Dylan last night.

Wow!

First of all, I'm a huge Dylan fan, so I'm biased. But I've also never seen a Dylan show that I've liked. So I was a little wary.

This was way different.

The gig was at the Aragon Ballroom, the "Brawlroom" as we used to call it, when it had a staple of metal acts on a constant basis. Craziness abounded indeed for many a reckless teenager.

That was not how the Dylan show was, though (no kidding.)

No, despite the lack of a mosh pit, the Aragon was the absolute perfect place for Dylan to play. Like I said, I've not seen a show of his that I've liked, and after last night, I learned why.

It was the room. I'd forgotten how cool the Aragon is.

Dylan is a genius, as most of you know (or will at least acknowledge.) He'll probably have a reputation along the lines of Beethoven and Mozart a century from now (provided we have blown ourselves up or died off as the result of an uninsurable, I mean incurable, disease.) And, really, the best way for that genius to be performed is in a small and intimate setting. This just doesn't happen in a stadium or arena or festival. Dylan is subtle, dynamic, and always changing. It just doesn't seem to work, in my opinion, in a large venue.

The listed capacity for the Brawlroom is 4500, though I doubt it. I'd say more like 2500. No matter, there was probably only 1000 people in the audience (which was fine with me. A lot of people missed out. Suckers.)

He kicked off the show with two rarities. First was Watching the River Flow, released only as a single, and then Girl From the North Country, released on both the Freewheelin' album and Nashville Skyline (one of my faves.)

This really set the tone of the show. He was doing older stuff, but in the current style he's been developing over the past decade. That's standard for him. And if you're really a fan, then you already know that, really, this is a blues band. The last 4 albums that he's put out, going back to '97's Time Out of Mind, are a collection of true roots/blues/americana music. He's been going back to the beginnings and developing something very much minty fresh while being true to a bygone era.

Certainly better than most of the blues bands in Chicago, the so-called "Home of the Blues".

He was sporting a 6-piece band (2 guitars, bass, drums, keys/horn/3rd guitar, and Bob, who played guitar, keys, and harp,) basically the same unit he's been using for the last few years. Last night, the lead guitar player for the gig was Charlie Sexton, who is, in a word, smokin'.

And this is what makes Dylan so great, especially at this point in his career. His m.o. has always been re-invention, from the folk days, converting to electric at Newport and rocking, to finding God and putting out gospel (those were not very good records, his "godrock".)

Nowadays, he's clearly paying homage to Muddy Waters, Willie Dixon, and Hoagy Charmichael, but making it Dylan.

Off of his latest album, Together Through Life, he played Hell's My Wife's Hometown, in the vein of Willie Dixon's I Just Want to Make Love to You, with dynamics that were so effective and well executed, you would have thought this was a bar gig (I saw Dylan in a bar once, but that's another story for another day.) The bass man was playing an upright, the drummer was using brushes, and Bob was playing leads, using sparse phrasing, and mostly picking single notes.

He also played Beyond Here Lies Nothing, also off the new record. This is in the style of Otis Rush's All Your Lovin' , done entirely as a rumba. The drums were powerful and tight, and the interplay between Dylan and Sexton was flawless and easy. They've been together a while, now, and it shows.

Most of the tunes were newer, which I enjoyed. I really like the recent catalog. Some were hits: Stuck Inside a Mobile, Highway 61 Revisited, Just Like a Woman, and of course the money song, Like a Rolling Stone (everyone has to play their signature. It's almost mandatory.)

None of them were done as they were on the album.

He even re-invents the old stuff. And the small venue is where you can really see (he's an outstanding band leader, and his guys never take their eyes off of him, lest they miss something) and hear it all unfold.

Really, though, my words cannot express what really went down. I feel bad about that. You really should have been there.

I'm going back to see him again tonight.

So it goes...
.

Be Happy and Gay- Market Days

The band (BMR4) played Market Days, yesterday.

Boystown, Chicago style.

What a good time! I gotta say, I can't recall a gig where the BMR4 Solid Gold Dancers actually showed up. (There's a reality show in there somewhere.)

The Halsted St. Market Days festival is one of the best in the city. Just like any of the various city festivals throughout the summer, there was a lot of food and music and vendors peddling their wares.

The difference between this particular festival and all of the others is that Market Days draws a truly diverse crowd. Usually, on the North Side, the "mighty whitey" reigns supreme at these summer fetes. Such was the case of an unnamed "retro fest" that was a mere block from the home of yours truly.

That really says something about Chicago. You see, we Chicagoans tend to think that our city is diverse and international.

Except we're not.

Sure, there are representatives from hundreds of other countries and cultures located in Chicago. There are many languages, a lot of interesting food, et al. But as I've pointed out in previous posts, Chicago is still very much a racist city.

At Market Days, though, you'd never know it. You get all kinds of people: gay (the dominating group, natch), straight, black, white, boys, girls, Latino, Asian, Democrats, "greenies", and even the usually-despicable Republicans.

Sure, they're welcome too.

And you know what? Everybody got along swimmingly (likely, the appearance of the Village People played a strong part in the harmonious vibes and good karma.) I didn't see any fights, I didn't notice any thick-necked frat boys being obnoxiously loud and, well, obnoxious. I didn't hear anybody complaining about activities that other festival-goers were indulging in (use your imaginations, you dirty dogs.)

I saw one guy sitting up against a street light and, um, napping. He was covered in dry puke; pretty sure it was his own. So he was obviously sitting there for quite a while.

Nobody hassled him, even (although we all had that, "Poor bastard," thought going through our collective heads, I'm sure.)

Even the police presence was minimal, it seemed (for Chicago standards, anyways.)

Isn't it ironic that the gay population (not only in Chicago, but all over,) an oftentimes persecuted group of people, throws the best parties (if you are of the gay population, I suppose you wouldn't call it ironic. Normal is probably a better word.) I mean, gay people party with reckless abandon. I don't think that any other group can claim that accolade any more. So long as blood is not drawn (unwillingly, anyways,) you can do what you want in the gay community. Nobody cares.

Everyone, seemingly, gets it.

I find it funny, for sure. After all, I'm in the biological white guy club, I just don't subscribe to a lot of "our" propaganda. Rules for having a good time? Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign? Stay within the barbed-wire fenced in area? No smoking here? No drinking there? God forbid there's a little weed floating around. And aren't you just a little too happy? Please, you're an embarrassment.

This has everything to do with my profession of choice. As a musician, I've seen the changes in attitude over the last decade in terms of the people coming out to have a "good time". As a result, I've seen the results of the change in attitudes. When I was a young pup coming up through the ranks, most people still knew how to have a good freak out. Music clubs were full all the time. People came out eagerly (yes, yes, I know that it's always been tough to get people to come to your show) and regularly.

Regularly is the key word, I think.

Do kids even have fake id's anymore, or has everyone become just completely addicted to Guitar Hero instead of actual guitar heroes (or are you just petrified of having "youthful indiscretions" on your "permanent record"?)

Since the regularity factor is taken out of the equation, and since there are so many rules to follow, attendance has taken a steady nose dive. Clubs that were hoppin' are now scaling back, whether it's the money the musicians make, or just the number of days the club has music. A lot of festivals have cut their budgets, cut the number of days (hmmm, the Chicago Blues and Jazz fests come to mind,) or just quit altogether.

Sure, the economy is bad, but the laissez faire attitude of so-called party people is worse.

This is a big and diverse world that we live in. Don't forget how to have fun and be happy and gay. People certainly haven't in Boystown.

So it goes...

Play On, Bo Diddley- RIP

Bo Diddley is dead; been gone from us for a year to the day.

I'm not feeling too good myself, either.

Actually, I'm fine. After all, it's already June, the weather is still (STILL!) crappy, and my health insurance bill is paid up to current.

Government Motors should be so lucky.

Bo never did get a government bailout. In fact, he really never made much money at all. Like so many of the old blues and rock and roll guys, Bo Diddley was a great musician, but not so great as a business person.

The biz will show no mercy, especially if you are a giant.

But he played on. Because that's what he did best. Even if it wasn't under the best of circumstances. I can remember the times that he would come through Chicago, play at Buddy Guy's Legends (with Howard and the White Boys as his backing band- since he made relatively low money, he didn't, or wouldn't, support a touring band.) Now don't get me wrong. Buddy's is a great, great, great club to play. Personally, it's one of my faves. But it's still just a club. And Bo was, well, Bo. It was our good fortune to see him in such a small and intimate place, but he deserved bigger and better digs.

And he was a giant, too. I mean HUGE. Without him (and Muddy Waters and Willie Dixon), the rest of us, who play generally "popular" music, would be out of work. His "Bo Diddley" beat was and is as infectious as swine flu (not that we call it that anymore.) It works with so many different songs, and can be played on any instrument, not just the thundering jungle drums.

Really, that groove is a musical style in itself.

Bomp, bompa bomp, a bomp bomp. Bomp, bompa bomp, a bomp bomp.

"Bo Diddley, Bo Diddley, have you heard..."

Bomp, bompa bomp, a bomp bomp. Bomp, bompa bomp, a bomp bomp.

"Mama's gonna buy you..."

It just doesn't quit. The rhythm is moving and grooving and driving, and powerful. If your body isn't shaking and your big toe isn't coming out of your boot, then, surely, there is something wrong with your sensibilities.

Too bad for you.

RIP Bo Diddley.

Short Burst Series- Crimes of Corruption

So, yet ANOTHER Chicago Alderman is being charged with what I like to call "crimes of corruption."

According to today's Chicago Sun-Times, "Ald. Isaac "Ike" Carothers (29th) was charged Thursday with fraud and bribery for allegedly accepting $40,000 in home improvements and other gifts from a politically connected developer, but he has been cooperating with the feds since April 2008, according to court papers."

Great.

So it goes...

Life (and Racism) in Music- Takin' it to the Streets

A long time ago, in what, at this point, seems like another lifetime (it actually was), I was a street musician.

One of the best summers of my life.

I was 19 years old (with ways just like a baby child) and in college. I had no money. I had no real gig. I had no real experience. I was underage (although I'd been working the clubs since I was 18).

I wasn't really that good yet, either.

Just like everybody, in the beginning.

I knew this guy who was (is) a saxophone player. Beau Barry is (was) his name. We had a mutual friend who was a blues singer, L.C. Walker (RIP), and had done a few cheap-0 gigs together, as was the case most of the time in those days.

Meaning cheap-o gigs.

Beau supplemented his career (supported it, really) by performing on the street (sure beats selling drugs. Or junk bonds.) Or at Wrigley Field. Or in the subway on the platform. Essentially, he would go wherever there was likely to be large groups of people. That makes, uh, sense, right?

(It sure beats selling drugs. Or junk bonds.)

Large groups of people.

At some point in our relationship, he suggested I join him. He said that it was very good for your chops. Lot's of playing.

Pretty decent dough (you haven't lived till you've brought home $200 worth of quarters) too.

However, ahem ahem, it would take roughly 4-6 hours to make that kind of coin (get it? Coin? I slay me sometimes.) Also, it was a sax/drums duo, so it was very unusual. No bass. No chordal instruments. New territory for both of us, frankly.

In order to play for 4-6 hours, you need a lot of stamina, perseverance, and patience. You also need material. Any working musician knows that a large repertoire requires a lot of practicing and learning. Since we were playing 4-6 hours, and doing the cheap-o gigs, that didn't leave much time for practicing. Meaning on our own time in a room by ourselves. So where do you practice?

While you're on the street, working, of course.

Look, a street musician's audience is mostly transient. Kind of like a prostitute (but without the nasty diseases.) They walk up to you, they may or may not stop to listen, they may or may not drop a ducket in the bucket. Sometimes (and for Beau and me it was often, because we kicked ass, after a while) people would eagerly gather around and we'd have an actual crowd. That was always a ton of fun. People of all ages, races, religions, creeds, and colors. Exactly what you would expect in a major, supposedly international, city (that's really where this is going. Patience.)

The people, however, DO move on sooner, rather than later.

Even when they dig it.

The point is that there is a point where you run out of material. So what do you do? You play tunes many times a day. You play it over and over, tweaking and refining it. The musical freedom you are allowed on the street is like nowhere else. No band leader, no club owner, no booking agency to pay off, nothing like that. You're not even asked to draw your audience.

The ultimate DIY (read: the American Way.)

And it's music, the one true international language. If people like it, they pay. Or not. It's not a requirement. If people don't like it, they don't pay. Or maybe they do anyways (like I said, the American Way.)

We kept playing our limited-yet-growing material over and over. We're better off for having done that.

We were also required, as street performers still are, to purchase a license (the city ALWAYS gets her cut). So the city, one would assume, considers this a legitimate line of work, right?

Yeah, right.

In the Sun-Times last week, Chicago Alderman Brendan Reilly (42nd) introduced an ordinance in the City Council to curtail the already very-limited freedom of street musicians. He's claimed that, "Street performer noise comes up at literally every condo association I address."

"Imagine a boom-boom-boom for six hours outside your window. If you're trying to work, it sounds as if they're playing their instruments in your office. And it's tremendously disruptive . . . on residents."

Condo associations.

Trust fund babies.

Credit card hippies.

Investment bankers.

Chicago is allegedly an international city. So they say, anyways. The Mayor has been selling us out to obtain the 2016 Olympics to solidify that fact (we'll be right up there with Lillehammer, Norway, no doubt.)

One of the things that defines an international city is a fairly large population. Meaning a lot of people.

Meaning a lot of noise.

If you want peace and quiet and space and alienation from the rest of society, then you move to the country.

Or the suburbs.

You DON'T move into a downtown condo on Michigan Ave. That makes you just as annoying as the people who move next door to the airport and then complain that there is too much air traffic.

The good Alderman also cites the "criminal element" of street performers, particularly and specifically, the "bucket boys."

You know who they are. The kids who play drums on plastic buckets. Kind of like a drum corps for a college football team. Just less formal. They're (for the most part, anyways) pretty good, too. Believe it or not, it is a talent and a skill to play the same rhythms with the same stick patterns (including the twirling of the sticks and other show-biz tricks) among a group of people.

Besides, with the domination of American Idol, and things like that in our society, how can any form of musical entertainment not be considered legit?

"There is a criminal element. Some crews use their performance merely as a distraction to lure unsuspecting tourists. And there are people in those crews who are tasked with reaching into people's shopping bags, purses or wallets to make off with their valuables," Reilly said, noting some drummers have "lengthy criminal records."

Ok, point taken. Sometimes the (often quality) performance is a ruse in order to accomplish a bigger scam.

Are you listening AIG? Or Enron? Or the Investment Banking Industry? Or Bernie Madoff? Or George W. Bush?

Or Mayor "I razed Meigs Field in the middle of night under the cover of darkness with no witnesses or the press. So what?" Daley and the rest of the Chicago City Council?

Did I mention that the Bucket Boys are generally young black kids?

So it goes...

************************
photo credit: Richard A. Chapman/Sun-Times

Short Burtst Series- Want Fries With That?

I've written previously about this great Cuban joint in my 'hood, 90 Miles Cafe.

I have officially decided that it is one of the top 5 places in the city to eat. Oh, yes, I know, that's a pretty bold statement there.

Stop the presses, for crying out loud..

Today, for the first time, I ordered the french fries to accompany my Cubano sandwich and cafe con leche (to celebrate the wheels being in motion to lift the embargo.) I'm a french fry freak.

Best fries on the North Side of Chicago, hands down. Hot, crispy, crunchy, hearty, and yummy.

Really, though, I need to get to Havana while it's still illegal.

So it goes...

Life in Music- The Funky Bass Players

I love bass players. They are my brothers/sisters in groove.

Without them, I am nothing (after all, I'm just a bass player trapped in a drummer's body).

That being said, bass players really piss me off lately.

I don't know why, and I probably never will, but bass players seem to be perpetually less than timely, especially lately. On 2 gigs that I did last week (2 in one week?) the bass player was late. When I say late, I mean late for the START of the gig. Not late for the load-in or the sound check, but the hit time (biz lingo).

Hello? Are we pro's here or what?

Isn't part of your job keeping good time?

The kicker of this part of the story is that it occurred with 2 different bands and 2 different bass players.

About a week or 2 previous to this, there was another gig that the bass player was late. About an hour late for the hit, to be precise. I can't blame her, though, because she was filling in for the person that was supposed to show up.

That's right, I said supposed to show up. The person who originally got the call never showed. Just didn't show up. Didn't even call. Luckily, someone was found, albeit an hour late.

So what's going on here, bass players? The economy is terrible and the gigs are getting scarce. I understand that we all gotta do what we gotta do (I'm talking to the mercenaries out there, myself included.) I know that if you're already booked to play for a hondo (a hundred dollars- more biz lingo) and someone else offers you 2 for the same day, you gotta take it.

But you also gotta be responsible and send a sub or at least CALL THE LEADER and let them know that they need to get someone else. When you don't show up, or if you show up late, not only do you screw up your colleagues' future employment, but your own name gets tarnished mightily (notice my manners in not calling y'all out). Besides, just like many, many drummers in this town, you're probably not nearly as good as you think you are, with your noodling fingers and thumping thumbs; being "funky".

Sorry to be harsh, but if you feel slighted by this statement, then you probably fit the description. If it does not affect your mood, then you are probably very solid and...

ON TIME.

Probably funky, too.

And speaking of funky, how about the city of Chicago sending out the secret goon squad to ticket motorists who fail to stop for pedestrians who just walk willy-nilly into the middle of the street just 'cause they can. Why doesn't the city just send us all a bill every month?

So it goes...

Commenting on the Cardinal's Comments

They say that you should never talk about religion or politics when you're in a bar.

Luckily, I'm sitting in my kitchen.

Today, like most days, I'm flipping through my trusted (and currently in chapter 11 bankruptcy) Sun-Times, online (oops), when the headline screams at me: "Cardinal George: ND Obama invite an 'embarrassment'."

The article quotes the good Cardinal as saying it's an "extreme embarrassment," for the Golden Domers to have invited him to speak at this year's commencement.

Huh? We're talking about the current President of the United States, right?

Let's be perfectly clear on this. George W. Bush, was an extreme embarrassment.

Period.

He's a liar and a war criminal and a fear mongering you-know-what. Hopefully, he'll be prosecuted for these and other shortcomings at some point in the future.

Obama, regardless of where your support lies, hasn't been in charge long enough to have earned that distinguishing moniker.

Moving on.

Who does the Cardinal think he is, anyways? For a man in such a distinguished position of leadership, he's really set a poor example for all of the kiddies (what happened to love thy neighbor, he who is without sin, and all that jazz). I'm sorry if I offend anybody, as it is not my intention to do so (I might as well get the apology out before the fact, a true patriotic act, eh), but he's got some nerve. Especially as a man of the cloth.

First of all, if the POTUS (President of the United States) wants to speak at your behest, even if it were George II, it's an (gulp) honor. Kids start learning of the respect Americans hold for the Office of the President at a very young age. Even Catholic children. After all, being President puts you in more of an elite club than being in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. So if he, or someday she, is willing to come and speak at your school, or church, or mosque, then props to you.

Take that ball and run with it.

Don't, as an organizational leader, whine and cry and publicly denounce this event. Find the good and positive things to promote for all Americans, not just the Catholic ones. After all, our country is in a royal mess. I mean bad. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. We, as a society, need to find common ground. Unity. What's best for the many, not for the few. We just don't need any more trivial and petty fighting among various American tribes.

This is the real embarrassment.

So what if Obama's views differ from Catholic beliefs? Some of mine are different, to be sure. So are many other peoples'. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that the previous Presidents who spoke there (Carter, Reagan, Bush I and II) had some different opinions on things good and evil as well.

He's. The. President.

Let's face it. In addition to being an extremely large religious group, the Catholic Church is a major corporation, and run accordingly (college football EXCLUSIVELY on NBC, anyone?). The Church even has had it's share of scandal and corruption embedded into it's makeup and reputation, just like other monster corporations (see Enron, AIG). These few statements, alone, weakens the proverbial moral compass that the Church possess. Plus, and most importantly, I'm quite sure that Notre Dame is very happy to allow students of any faith to attend their prestigious school.

So long as the tuition gets paid, that is.

Plus, Notre Dame has a proud (yes, proud) tradition of inviting a sitting (yes, sitting) president to come and speak. This is not an unusual event.

Cardinal George knows this, as does Cardinal Timothy Dolan, archbishop of New York, and the other archbishops who've jumped on the anti-Obama soapbox.

So really, what is the embarrassment really all about? Is it really about stem cells? C'mon. If Catholics really feel this way, as Cardinal George would suggest, then maybe he should figure a way to get Catholics out of America entirely. After all, if this issue of stem cell research goes so horribly against the tenets of the group that you are supposedly bound to, then you can't possibly feel good about being part of American society. So you might as well just go and live among people that don't see the value of such unbelievably unbelievable science.

Now there's a solution.

Since he's a prominent and major Catholic leader, perhaps that should be a responsibility he'd be willing to take on. He knows best, right? Maybe it will get him that Papal gig he seemed to have missed out on a coupla years ago.

So it goes...

Another Blue Monday Jam Session

The weekly blues jam at Buddy Guy's Legends was happenin' last night. Seems like all the characters came out to prowl the city at night.

I had the pleasure of playing with the house band, Brother John Kattke, subbing for his regular guy, Marty "Boom Boom" Binder. The Legendary Paul Stref was on the gig, playing bass (awesome), and the horn section was there, sans Marqueal Jordan (and the cool Otis Redding stuff he pulls out- too bad).

A great lineup, for sure.

I've played with John's group quite a bit over the last dozen-or-so years, but I'm not his regular guy, by any means. So whenever I do this gig, I'm never on auto-pilot. I'm always thinking about the tunes, remembering different changes and "hits", watching for cues, etc; the usual stuff you gotta do when you're a sub.

John's got extensive repertoire, so there really is no way to prepare for one of his gigs. I've got about 9 CD's of the various tunes he does, and that's still not the complete Kattke collection. So I listen to a few, and hope that those are some of the tunes that he picks. Luckily, they're all GOOD tunes, and I pretty much (key words being "pretty much") know them all more or less.

Sometimes more, sometimes less.

So we did our set, about an hour long. Some of my personal faves of the set were "Blackjack", by Ray Charles, and "I Got Loaded", the Los Lobos arrangement. We ended our part of the show with "Hillbillies From Outer Space," from the Vaughan Brothers. It's a very hip Texas shuffle (which is a little lazier than a Chicago shuffle) that I played brushes on, not a typical way to end a set. John even tossed me a solo to finish off the set. Totally cool, and the band sounded great.

Bring on the jammers.

Actually, the talent level was quite high. There were a handful of guitar guys that I had never seen, but they were more than serviceable (hey,at least they're trying). Otherwise, the quality was high. Some good bass players came through as well, including Melvin Smith, bass player for Koko Taylor's Blues Machine. I hadn't seen him in a while.

Another old friend, Homie (honestly that's his name), was there too, hanging with Sammy Fender. He used to be a drummer back in the day, as they say (whatever day that was, anyways), working for Buddy way back as far as the Vanguard days.

Gave it up to make a living.

Smart guy, I suppose. He was certainly in fine form, though, holding court for a while at the bar, and then in the VIP section, which is stage left, telling stories I can't repeat and sipping on his seemingly never empty glass of red wine.

Homie's cool.

Tommy McKracken was there, the black Elvis. I've written about Tommy before, as some readers (hopefully) may recall. He's a riot. Far and away, he's the hardest working guy you could ever hope to see on a Monday night. Each time I see him, he gives it his all. That's quite an accomplishment, considering that he does the same. routine. every. single. time.

His set starts with big hits on the "C", then the "F" then "B flat" (or whatever chords he calls), and then into a swing shuffle, "Have You Ever Seen a One-Eyed Woman Cry." He's got his hips gyrating, the microphone swinging, the mic stand bouncing, and the people are wrapped around his finger. He's dancing and clapping and snapping, passing solos around, singing a verse or two, then doing it some more. You'd never believe that this guy could work a crowd so well if you haven't seen him up close and personally.

Then it's his slow blues, "Little Blue Bird." A classic B.B. King tune.

The end of the song always is a sort of preaching section, giving props to waking up in the morning ("a wonderful thing happened to me this morning; I woke up"), and crying the blues about the woman that can't be satisfied and left him. After each little statement that he makes, he cues the band to hit a chord, quick and short.

He makes a lot of little statements.

He gets off the stage with the same swagger he got on with.

The players got switched around after Tommy's set, and it was time for Holly B. Maxwell to do her thing. She's the self proclaimed "new blonde bombshell," and she certainly is. Holly is a large woman, over 6 feet. She always wears bright and stylish outfits, tight around her hips and thighs which are quite large and round (baby got back). And she's got the BLONDE wig.

It's screaming blonde.

It totally completes her persona.

Holly always starts with a medium tempo shuffle, singing about how, "I don't need no instant breakfast, 'cuz I'm hongry..." (Notice: hongry, not hungry.) That's how she sounds, in that loud, throaty, growling blues mama voice that you'd expect from a woman of her, uh, stature.

HONGRY.

And her schtick is as you would expect from a blues mama. She oozes sexuality, whether it's with the band on the stand or the guy sitting in the front row with his wife and mother-in-law. Lot's of hip shakin' and rubbing and bumping and grinding. Blues cabaret, basically.

Just like that, seemingly, the clock reached 1:00. Show's over. Time to go.

Another successful Monday.

So it goes...

90 Miles Munch

The first ever restaurant review to grace these pages.

Hallelujah, right?

Ok, so I'm not exactly a food critic. However, this isn't exactly your typical restaurant review.

I like this Cuban joint in my 'hood quite a bit, called 90 Miles Cuban Cafe. I seem to be making the block and a half walk quite regularly, usually in the late morning/early afternoon.

The restaurant is small, with only a dozen or so bar stools lining the walls of the place. It's quaint and convivial, airy and bright, the walls adorned with old newspaper clippings and ads and fliers from Cuba circa 1950. They make an excellent cafe con leche and an even better guava and cheese empanada, the pastry being crisp and light. Yum.

The actual (non-dessert) food is great too. The house specialty is the Cubano sandwich. It's basically a panini with ham and pork (yes, I know that ham is pork, as well, so just stop right there), melted cheese, pickle, onion, and mustard, and garnished with home made plantain chips.

Real Cuban food.

Delicious.

(Why, yes, another pastry DOES sound good , thanks.)

What's really nice about this place, though, are the people who run the joint, Alberto and Christine, a very cool and hospitable couple. It's obvious that they love the enterprise they've built and that they are very genuine in terms of delivering something that is excellent, as well as unique. They also finish every conversation/transaction with, "Thank you. See you tomorrow."

There's a sticker on the cash register saying the same thing. Funny.

Cuba is a place I've always wanted to visit. Obviously, as an American, we are verboten from visiting those commies. For some reason, the U.S. still hates and fears the tiny island nation, even though the rest of the western world considers Cuba an extremely attractive tourist destination (the value of Cuban currency is based on the Euro and not U.S. dollars any more, by the way).

Castro has been rubbing the proverbial egg in the face of America since the revolution.

And he's still in charge, despite all of the States' best efforts to stop him.

Talk about having a good run of it.

One day, sooner rather than later, I'll be taking the flight from Negril to Havana during my annual Carribean Christmas romp (the Cubans, after all, DO want us there.) It takes relatively no time to get there, and you can do it with relatively little fear of getting caught by our ever-so-watchful government.

(They should fear us. Have I said that lately?)

Havana is supposed to be happenin' and hoppin'. A city full of life and living. There's live music and dancing and singing and eating and drinking and swinging from the chandeliers all night long. It's one of the last places in the world, really, where you can still go out and have fun at all hours.

Is there any place left to hear live music all night long?

See you tomorrow.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- Still, More Cameras?

I'm reading the paper, waiting for laundry to finish.

Present tense.

There is a little blurb about even more legislation involving cameras on the road. This time, Sen. Terry Link (D- Vernon Hills) has introduced a bill in Springfield that would ,"authorize cities within Cook County, the collar counties and two counties near St. Louis to erect speeding cameras, beginning next January."

You'd receive a possible $100 fine in the mail (but it would not, miraculously, count toward your 3 moving violation limitation).

The good Senator said the purpose of the bill was to, "Save Lives. Period. If you want to save lives, this is the way we've got to do it."

Uh, yeah. Right. Save lives. Got it.

So we're not talking about yet another friggin' revenue stream via the proverbial ankle hanging?

Uh, yeah. Right. Save lives. Got it.

The government will save my life, 'cause they're so effective with everything else that they do for my, alleged, benefit.

Sigh.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- 3 for 1, chicago style

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

The Musicians Mind on a Murky Monday

"Life is short. Life is dull. Life is full of pain."

This is a quote from the most recent Woody Allen movie, "Vicky Cristina Barcelona." It is also the theme of the movie, and, perhaps, a strong theme in life (at least my life, anyways).

One character in the film, Vicky, believes (and tries to convince herself) that she knows exactly what she wants out of life and has actually attained it, only to realize that it's not really what she wanted. You know, the successful fiance and, ultimately, husband, the house on Long Island, membership in the club (literally and figuratively), etc., etc.

The American dream, right? Only with Woody Allen's sensibilities (and dialogue.)

Her counterpart, Cristina, is quite the opposite. She doesn't know what she wants out of life. But she indeed knows what she doesn't want. She's tried various forms of "traditional stability", but it just doesn't suit her. So she tends to be more experimental and open to new adventures.

I've been thinking about this movie, that quote, really, and about my life and music and the music business. About the relationships I have and the track record I've accrued. I see both of these characters' perspectives in me.

I've done some of the best gigs in the world, all over the world, sharing the stage with the likes of B.B. King and Jerry Lee Lewis.

I've gotten to play with some of the best talent that's in the city of Chicago; guys with very high levels of musicianship, versatility, and professionalism.

Obviously, my current gig with Lonnie, a Chicago blues legend, is an opportunity that very few players are able to realize. He's one of the last of the older generation. The real bluesmen. So, as I've said in previous posts, "I'm a lucky mutha****."

I play with guys like that because I belong there. I've put in the time and paid the dues, as they say. I'm on that level. I'm very good and I know what I'm doing. This is not vanity. It's just a fact, simple as that.

I've seen a lot of the world.

I've also made some good bread most of the time.

"Life's been good to me so far," to quote Joe Walsh.

I've also done some of the worst gigs in the world with guys that, really, are just not very good (again, just a simple fact, not an indictment). Playing 4 sets from 11-5 in some dump in Schiller Park, stuffed in a far corner, for a chicken sandwich and the door (split 4 or 5 ways), changing in the bathroom, being extra careful not to step in the puddle of pee, and then paying for drinks at the end of the night.

Thanks a lot pal, you were great. See ya next time. Kiss my ass.

I'll probably do some of these type of gigs again at some point, too. Ugh.

Life is certainly short.

Chicago has made many changes for the worse in the last few years. The city (and state) has seemingly become a cesspool of corruption, nepotism, and nanny laws. The taxes for the city, county, and state are very high, as you know, giving back very little in return, and they are about to go up. Again. We've got red light cameras. We've sold our assets for quick cash (parking meters, skyway, Midway). It makes it tougher and tougher just to be here, let alone live here.

Life is dull.

Then there's the proposed "Promoters Ordinance" that's been hanging around in the city council. This could prove to be detrimental to live music in this town, as it would be the final nail in the coffin for what I like to call "the crackdown on fun". I thought the smoking ban was gonna kill the clubs, but alas... Bars and nightclubs won't have live acts anymore. They'll just stop. Or move it to the underground economy. The insurance and licensing would cost too much. It just won't be worth it to them. It's hard enough to make money on live music as it is.

The death knell.

So much for Chicago being a major player in the music industry. I guess the Olympics are more important.

Life is full of pain.

No matter what, though, life is never gonna be the days of wine and roses 24/7. There are always bumps in your road, whether it's your job, your girl, your family. Whatever.

I'll always need more gigs and a few more dollars. I'll always have to do my hustle. I'll always have to be diligent about it. To what end, though?

I still pay for my own health insurance, which only covers 80%. Still just a commodity.

Maybe it's time to think about expanding my horizons; branch out to another town where musicians might actually been seen as an asset and not a burden on the economy. See what I can do out there. After all, I have a unique set of skills that I've spent a lifetime working on and honing. New players would only enhance and improve what I do. Give it a freshness of sorts.

Besides, Robin would dig it, too.

So it goes...

Rent-A-Cop

The Sun-Times, today, ran a headline saying, "Rent-A-Cops to the Rescue." The headline goes on to say that a couple of aldermen on the Far South Side "want to give private security guards the power to write tickets".

Alderman Anthony Beale (9th) said, "It gives the community more control over illegal activity. Police are there to serve and protect. If we can give them some extra help to serve and protect, that's a win-win for everybody."

Everybody that's on the receiving end of the city payroll, that is.

Selling off yet another part of the city.

Just another example of fascism. We already see it at the airport (it's only a matter of time before O'hare gets sold off too), the benchmark standard for the illusion of security, overseen by TSA rent-a-cops. They're running the metal detectors, x-ray machines, eyeball scans, etc.

Eyeball scans? You gotta be kidding me. Who the hell would do that?

TSA workers are mainly minimum wage workers with little education and often-times shaky backgrounds. Not exactly an attractive combination.

Hmmm. Let's see. Overworked, underpaid, un-motivated. Yep, I feel safe. It already pisses me off that they feel that they have the right to treat you like a chump using "national (in)security" as their justification. God forbid that you should SAY anything during your hassles, lest you want the ol' "up your nose with a rubber hose."

I'm assuming that the rent-a-cops from the private security firm that would get this contract are not trained like cops. I'm guessing that their background checks will be minimal, and so will their pay. They will, however, be given a dose of power that could be detrimental and set a very bad precedent.

(Isn't the city broke, by the way? Who pays for it. Oh, yeah, right. The taxpayer. My mistake. My government can't give me health care, but they'll supply mall cops. Yippee.)

This amounts to nothing more than vigilante justice; gang mentality; Lord of the Flies and all that. Jimi Hendrix said that the only way to know peace is when "the power of love overcomes the love of power."

This is not the direction for our society to be moving in.

So it goes...

200 Hookers

Tom Dart, Cook (Crook) County Sheriff, is going to sue Craigslist.

Better not cross the sheriff: "I am fed up. I am tired and this is going to stop," Dart said.

Just as an aside, Tom; you're not a patron of these arts, are you? It's a fair question. This is Illinois, after all.

Seems that prostitution, the world's oldest profession, by the way, is now public enemy numero uno in Cook County. Apparently, he didn't read the memo saying that the economy is in the tank despite Cook County having the highest sales taxes in the country, homes are being foreclosed on, and there is very little public support of County government these days.

Oh, and that it's impossible, don't you know, to eradicate prostitution.

Impossible.

My opinion as to whether or not prostitution is an acceptable profession is irrelevant. Same goes for yours. What is relevant is that there are way too many, and much more important issues for us to spend our (few) dollars on.

Like what?

Well, the infrastructure is crumbling. Public transportation is crumbling. Employment rolls are, uh, crumbling.

Schools and forest preserve land: crumbling.

Basically Cook County is crumbling. You don't need me telling you these things.

From today's Sun-Times: "Since January 2007, sheriff's police have arrested 200 people on prostitution charges," specific to Craigslist users. That seems like a very small amount of people to arrest in a 2 year span (that's right, two years). Is this where our tax money is going? Again, Cook County pays the highest sales tax rate in the entire country.

200 hookers on Craigslist? Over a 2 year period?

2 arrests per week?

Like our famous/dreaded "war on drugs," eliminating prostitution is a futile effort. Prohibition of anything generally doesn't work. We (meaning they, whoever they are) should know this by now. If adult services ads are removed from Craigslist, they'll just appear in another form somewhere else.

Guaranteed.

After all, it IS the world's oldest profession.

So it goes...

Just Say "Whoa"

Do we really need another opinion or comment article about legalizing pot? It looks like we do, actually.

For the sake of fairness, I'm talking about being on either side of the fence, here. You're either for it or against it, you've got your reasons why, and that's that. It's pretty difficult to get someone to switch sides, so to speak.

But here goes.

As it currently stands, THE DRUG is illegal in the eyes of the federal government. In some states, though, it is either legal or "tolerated", meaning it doesn't make you a criminal, worthy of spending significant amounts of time during your life locked in a cage at the behest of the prison industry, a powerful revenue generating machine.

(Holy cow, drug laws in this country really are cruel and arcane.)

California probably gets the most press and notoriety for their weed, pardon me, cannabis laws. As most of you (hopefully) know, "medical" marijuana is legal. You can get a prescription for it (can I get an "AMEN" from the Vicodin, Xanax,and Ritalin crowd?). All you have to do is see a doc, give him/her your "reason" (just about any will do), and there you have it. You've got your 'script. You go buy it.

You buy it tax-free.

The Feds still have the right to bust you for having it, though. They can bust the ones selling, too. Under the Bush regime, states' rights were quashed regularly. Drug laws were heavily enforced. The War on Drugs continued to be waged with misguided force and might.

The prison industry was, and still is, thriving. One of the few government budgets that gets regular increases, actually, despite the recession and/or depression. God bless America.

Just last week, though, U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder said that the current administration will not make federal enforcement a priority (read: bigger fish to fry). And the state of California is totally broke.

Big time.

Wait a minute, so is Illinois. Chicago sold off all of the parking meters for a quick fix, right (get it? quick. fix... never mind)? Midway airport was also sold off.

A friggin' airport.

Come to think of it, there are a lot of states in the country that are teetering on the edge of destruction (how about yours, Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal?).

So you know what that means, right? We're going to have no choice but to legalize it because we need, repeat, need, the tax money. And just as the drug is currently illegal, so is collecting tax money from it. So principles be damned; there's a lot of dough to be had, that's for sure. After all, the black market has been alive and well since I don't even know. (In today's Sun-Times, columnist Steve Huntley, whom I usually find annoyingly conservative, lays out some of the specific economics of what legalization would mean to California. It's fascinating. Read it yourself if you can.)

There can be no tax money to be had if the laws don't change. Just like it was during the prohibition of booze. The economy was in horrible shape then, too. Funny how the ol' catch-22 gets us in the end.

So it goes...

Police Brutality- Enough Already

"On Friday in Seattle, the King County Sheriff’s Office released video showing a sheriff’s deputy kicking and throwing punches at a 15-year-old girl in police custody, after the deputy was charged with fourth-degree assault in the case and pleaded not guilty."

This is the opening quote from the NY Times blog, The Lede, from today, March 2. You can see the video here, as well.

She's 15.

It's horrifying.

On New Year's day, this year, in Oakland, CA, a kid named Oscar Grant was shot and killed in a crowded BART (subway) station. He was subdued and handcuffed before he was executed.

That's right, executed. Shot in the back. It's easy to find this video on You Tube, if you haven't seen it yet.

Also horrifying.

Just last week, Lorenzo Wiley (possibly drunk, probably mentally ill, likely cold in the dead of winter, and definitely not being aggressive) was verbally and physically assaulted on a CTA bus for not paying his fare (fair?).

The video shows the cop slamming the man's head into the bus window. He's also punched, and "challenged" to a fight.

Are you kidding me? Is all of this real? This is going from sublime to ridiculous. What is happening to us? Has this country gone so security crazy that now anyone with any type of "official capacity" is someone we should fear? For our lives? Should we worry about meter maids and crossing guards kicking our asses soon?

Yes, i know that civilized societies need laws and law enforcement. Yes, I know that being a cop means putting your own life on the line every day, dealing with the dregs of humanity up close and personally, something most people are not willing to do. And, yes, I know that, in fact, most (meaning the majority- here are the cops' props) officers are not bad cops and should be highly commended.

But there are enough bad cops out there. More than enough. Which of course means way too many. This is what fuels distrust and anger and a general lack of respect for the police. It's outrageous. It's wrong.

It's completely fascist, and out of control.

It's your own fault, too. No matter what you say or think, (what exactly do you think, Mayor Daley and Jody Weis?), you cannot convince me that the guy on the bus deserved to get his head smashed into the window.

Same goes for the 15 year old girl in Washington.

Same goes for Oscar Grant.

You all are on notice, and on camera. Don't forget who you work for.

So it goes...

No Regrets, No (Re) Morse

Last night was the last night for the Wednesday night jazz series at the Morse Theater in Rogers Park. I've been playing for that since the beginning, which was last December. We had expected to enjoy a long residency there, shaping and forming a weekly event that we had hoped would have caught on as a regular "jazz thing" in Chicago.

If you've not yet been there, you're just about too late.

The organic menu, along with the spectacular boutique wine list, is gone, although the physical bar/pub part of the facility remains. So much for the idea of dinner and a show. Of course, they still have some food service, but only minimal. Just enough to satisfy the liquor license regulations.

There are also, still, a small handful of concerts that are coming up in the next few weeks; events that were booked a while ago. Deposits have been paid, tickets have been sold, etc. Some shows, however, had to be cancelled. No reasons given, although one could speculate if one wanted.

One doesn't.

After those shows are over, that, as they say, will be that. The venue, in it's present form and incarnation, will cease operations. The short story is that the investors don't see eye to eye with the folks running the day to day operations. So the investors are pulling out, taking their proverbial ball, going home, and calling it a partnership. Barring any unforeseen love and affection between the two sides, or a sudden enthusiasm for a long and dragged out lawsuit on management's part, the worst can be expected.

Which means that yet another Chicago music venue is closing it's doors.

Another one.

It's a shame, really. There were lots of big plans in the works for the future. On the Wednesday nights, alone, there were plans for a Freddie Hubbard night, a Fathead Newman/Ray Charles night, and a tribute to Impulse Records, which was to feature a sextet of some of the heaviest of Chicago heavyweights (yours truly would have been included in all of it).

We were drawing an audience, too. Not an easy thing to pull off on a Wednesday, let alone in the winter, in Chicago. Brrrrr.

The ideas and plans that we had were ambitious, innovative, and, most of all, creative. Oddly enough, though, it appears that this particular business venture, which was creative by nature from the beginning (music venue, hello...), is going to be lost for exactly those reasons I just gave.

Creative projects generally instill fear in financiers (we used to call 'em patrons) these days. Better safe than sorry and all that jazz.

No pun intended.

Too much dough was spent on this place. Millions and millions of ducats. So it is doubtful that it will just be shuttered. The Morse is a state of the art place, physically and technologically. So something will live and breathe in that building when all is said and done. Will it be a theater? A dance club? High end restaurant?

All of the above?

None of the above?

Whatever the case, another really cool gig is gone. Eventually, there just won't be any good ones left. Lord knows, clubs are dying slowly and steadily and Live Nation is poised to take over the universe. Eventually we'll all be wedding singers.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- Band Seeking...Band?

Short bursts of the musicians life...

In these dragging, wintry, days of unemployment from having any kind of "real" day job (which I'm finding quite palatable, by the way), I find myself perusing the mostly useless, but always entertaining, CraigsList. You know, for job postings, musician postings, etc.

None of the dirty stuff. C'mon, now.

There is, of course, the chance that I'll find something good.

Usually, it's just a bunch of crap.

Today, though, there was something I saw that was really weird, and yet, it's something that I have seen before, not only on CL, but also in publications like the Reader and the Illinois Entertainer.

The operative words here are "...seen before...".

We're talking several occasions.

Several!

Understand? (It really just makes me wonder, sometimes, just who the hell some of my so called "peers" are.)

I saw an ad saying that an "established" band was seeking "experienced guitarist, bassist, and drummer with gear..."

Huh?

So it goes...