Where I Wanna Be

Where I Wanna Be

Monday in Fall

It’s nine thirty on a Monday night in October. I am drinking green tea.

No football. No beer.

No pizza or wings.

What has happened to me?

Goat’s Head Soup – Rolling Stones

1973. Goat’s Head Soup. The album that followed the iconic Exile On Main Street, I’ve been listening to it on my iPod. I seemed to have missed that this is a great album. Do you remember Dancing With Mr D? Doo Doo Doo (Heartbreaker) or Starfucker?  With Billy Preston and Nicky Hopkins on board, recorded mostly in Jamaica this album takes off right from the start. Sure Angie took things to #1, but that’s really besides the point. It’s the album  tracks that make this record fly. And it probably marks the last great Stones disc. Sure there was Some Girls,  but the grit was gone. The snotty-ness in the the guitars and Jagger’s vocals. My brother bought this records when it came out and i listened to it endlessly. Go back and enjoy this one. It’s worth it.

Summer

My neighbourhood is  changing. Again. When i moved into the area almost 8 years ago, it was mainly Portuguese, Italian, Sicilian families. They worked in their backyard gardens, kept to themselves, their clothes on the clotheslines that crossed above the growing lettuce,  tomatoes and grape vines. For the most part,  everyone tolerated and respected the open windows and tight quarters of backyards. Sure it was noisy and arguments were overheard by all. Music – live or otherwise –  was kept to a minimum after dark.

Last night arriving home after a long day, not to mention an exhausting week, at work, to find two concerts going on in the back alleys. The student-aged gaggle who recently moved in a couple of doors over, were hosting a backyard bbq, complete with a massive boombox. Across the alley, apparently Little Havana had sprouted. Lights ablaze ( those overhead white christmas lights), with salsa and hip hop booming across the whole neighbourhood and the party in full swing.

I grabbed a glass of wine and sat outside  on my cramped balcony. Focus, I said. It’s a free world, let everyone play. It’s a humid , swampy night. I remember these nights as a student where i am certain neighbours tolerated my over-amped entry into the adulthood.

But i couldnt help but notice that my neighbourhood had changed. Louder, audibly crossing the lines that were respected in the past years.

National Jazz Awards

Attended the Canadian National Jazz Awards in Toronto  May 14. Was anyone paying attention?  500 seat room, half full. Award winners mostly not in attendance. But enough Big Bands to start a parade. Is anyone still recording big bands? Vic Vogel was there. I remember him –  from 25 years ago.  Is it really necessary to have this if so little attention is being paid ?  Scrap it and ask the industry what they would like to see.

Allen Toussaint

I am tweaking on the new Allen Toussaint recording “The Bright Mississippi” .

Not only does he have the touch, an elegance that simply is unavoidable when listening to these tracks.  But there is a confidence, an assurance in the playing that just draws you in, sits you down and makes you listen.  Joe Henry has produced something extraordinary here. The feel of this record overwhelms and allows me to share the emotion of these players working through old standards “Just  A Closer Walk With Thee” or Jelly Roll Morton’s “Winin’ The Blues” and of course Monk’s “Bright Mississippi”.

And then there are the players:  Nicholas Payton,  Marc Ribot, Don Byron, David Piltch, Jay Bellarose. All tremendous players in their own right. Payton and Byron’s playing transport me. Take a listen on a subdued Sunday morning. This is calming music, infused with respect and love.

Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?  If you’re in Calgary, AB later this summer, this could be the musical catch of the summer.

Thank you Joe Henry and Allen Toussaint for the impetus to search out more.

Written In Chalk

All I did was help you tell a lie
You never even knew it when I said goodbye
I ran so far and I don't know why

You never even knew who I was
You saw about as far as a blind man does
I carried you with me every where I went
I carried every thing till my back was bent

All I did was help you tell a lie
You never even knew it when I said goodbye
It won't stop raining and I don't know why

The Anchor Bar

OK,  so I have an unhealthy craving for chicken wings. I’ll eat them anytime. With beer. Its a lifestyle. Living in NYC there was nothing like beer, wings and Monday Night Football. Afterwards, living in Halifax, i was astonished how difficult it was to find chicken wings..  dried seaweed? Sure , that stuff was everywhere. But no chicken wings. That was 10 years ago and now they are everywhere.  So this past weekend, working on an impulse i visited Buffalo Wing Mecca –  the home of the chicken wing,  The Anchor Bar in Buffalo – where it’s said that the buffalo chicken wing was born.  I’ll admit they were good wings,  full sized,  tasty, but not very hot (i ordered hot). Place was full on a Saturday  afternoon. And notice all the windows. Nice.

Really? Have I Left? Am I Gone?

A rainy Sunday morning in Amherst, NY. Just completed my inaugural visit to an IHOP when i looked across the street. Strange name for a funeral home. Or maybe a warning for me, as i attempt to digest the pancakes.