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September 29, 2006
'The Idea" at The Roadhouse
Recently Ray and I have become quite the live band enthusiasts, searching out places where we can discover New York City's best kept secrets. We've found a new dive called the Roadhouse in Tribeca, that has live music so decided we'd check it out this Thursday. We arrived at the Roadhouse about 7 and sure enough. Live music was being played. Actually, the trio (a drummer and two guitarists) was just finishing up a medley of television themes, intermittently playing requests from the audience. Ray was visibly moved by the Star Trek theme, and I (reluctantly) nodded along to the first few rifffs of Mission Impossible. I was a little disappointed because well, I was expecting more...not that it was the trio's fault-nobody was suggesting anything good, (well, that's a lie...someone did request All Along the Watchtower-but it lost a little something in the translation) and I for some strange reason was too embarrassed to ask them if they knew Van Morrison or Steely Dan. Don't ask me why, I just was. And as usual, I begged my boyfriend to do it for me, but he refused. I sulked until the waitress came to take our order. I decided on the Texas BBQ chicken salad while Ray ordered spicy wings with a wink and a smile for my benefit. He's been trying to increase his spice tolerance. The waitress knelt beside him and pulled the pen from her ear. She tapped the pen on the table. I guess it must have been some type of spice tolerance radar because she gave him the once over and suggested he order the mild wings instead. Good thing too. After Ray had a couple of wings, the waitress came back to see how we were doing with the wings. "Fine", Ray said between gags and gulps of water. She noticed the buckets of sweat forming on his forehead and brought over the entire napkin dispenser. Forget the band, watching my big strapping boyfriend buckle under the pressure of those mild wings was entertainment enough! Eventually, a young "Joss Stonish" sounding young diva named Kelly-I remember her name because the three drunken men to my left kept screaming her name and applauding-approached the stage to do a number. I must say, she did have some lungs on her although not powerful enough-the mics of the band were up to high and it was difficult to hear her. She held her own though, I will admit. She had a throaty, full voice made to sing the blues. She could have done without the exaggerated wanna be sultry theatrics though. Since it was difficult to hear the words of the song, she looked like she was feeling herself up for no reason. She did two songs with the band and exited the stage. So there we sat, nodding and clapping as the lead singer closed with a song about being taken away in a straight jacket. This was the second time they sang it in between requests so I suppose it's the dead air song."They 're coming to take me away, har har...They're coming to take me away..." Their voices rising in pitch and speed as they get closer to the funny farm. They linger for a minute or two just in case there are any last minute requests from the slowly dwindling audience. There are none so each member of the trio is introduced, plays his solo, and reminded us they would be there every Thursday from 6-8.
Ray and I ordered a couple more Sam Adams and contemplated the meaning of life for a while. We weren't ready to go just yet. Well, I wasn't. That's when I saw her. The young lady with long, thick dark hair in a floral print spring dress cut just above the knee enter the bar with some kind of instrument on her back. The instrument was big and bulky on her back and it contrasted with her delicate image. She sat next to a young man who appeared to have been waiting for her. I noticed the waitress take their order and return with a couple of beers, burgers and fries. I watched the two of them and told Ray to watch too. She kept playing with her hair, pulling it up and then down, flicking it over her shoulders and twirling it between her fingers.
"Look babe," I said. "It's so obvious she wants him, look how she's playing with her hair. And the guy, he's so adorable. He looks like he's into her too. The way he shifts his glance downwards to avoid meeting her eyes. Look at that nervous smile. Ahh.. that's so sweet. He looks all shy and nervous like you did when we went on our first date."
"Whatever," he said dismissing me, pointing at her instrument then looking at the stage. "You think she's performing?"
"I don't know. Maybe..." Then came a pretty tall lady with short hair and a halter top and sat down beside them.
"Uh-oh," I said nudging Ray. "Competition." Hair flirt was unmoved. She acted as though she didn't care that this tall, raven haired beauty had invaded her space. The hair movements just became more rapid and she flirted with fervor, crossing and uncrossing her toned legs for his benefit. Now this was entertainment.
Just then another young man arrived, kinda scruffy looking, and sat beside them. He didn't look like he belonged in their company. Then a strange thing happened. All of these people started to trickle into the bar and convene at that table. They all seemed to know each other but they didn't look like they had anything in common besides the fact that they knew each other from somewhere and they all had instruments, except for the tall brunette in the black knit halter, and her short, equally attractive girlfriend in the blue cuffed jeans and white slip top.
And then, he arrived. Supremely styled in a tan seersucker suit with a black shirt and silver cufflinks, he commanded the attention of the group, who had by now assembled on the stage and were pulling instruments out of their cases, checking mics tuning up.
"They are gonna play," I said excitedly. "See Ray, it's a good thing I made us stay."
"Shut up."
I did. My attention was focused on the motley crew unfolding into an ensemble before me. The band consisted of a horn section: saxaphonist (aka Hair flirt)a trumpeter and trombonist. Percussions, bass, guitar and, obviously the ladies sans instruments were back up singers. As they assembled, I wondered what kind of music they would perform. The man in tan who I guessed was the lead singer, reminded me a little of the lead singer from Fine Young Cannibals. (She Drives Me Crazy). Before he began, he demanded Hair flirt and the horns give him some! And when they did, I was blown away! Hair flirt was incredible. She held her her sax like she was making love to the most beautiful creature on the planet. Man, could she blow! Each and every note she hit still reverberates in my body. To say the young saxaphonist is talented would be an understatement. Talent doesn't go far enough to explain the vivacity and zeal with which she played.
Anyone who knows me knows how fascinated I am with strings. The guitarist (I'm not exactly sure what kind it was-I know it was electric) and the bassist (I know that much) made magic things with their fingers, and improvising spine-tingling riffs, licks and chords. God bless the drummer who was definetely the heart of the band. His beats allowed the rest of the band to flow rythmically through one another-like blood coursing through ones veins... Last but not least let me say a little bit about The Man in Tan; the main man. The leader of this awesome jazz/funk ensemble in the shiny silver cufflinks. If I were to compare him to any singer past or present, these names come to mind: Jackie Wilson, Stevie Wonder and James Brown. He displayed characteristics which reminded me of all three. Need I say more?
The Man in Tan sang with true ardor, moving enthusiastically all over the stage in a frenzy befitting one who was possessed. He was...by his music, his band and his passion.
The only problem was that you could barely hear him because, similar to the first act, the mics the band used were too high drowning the vocalists out. The back up singers who also had great voices, had the same issue, but they're other problem was that they looked and acted as though they wanted to be anywhere but where they were. They were emotionless, and barely moved at all. They looked uncomfortable and out of place compared to the rest of the band. If there was anything that bothered me about the performance, that was it. However, it didn't stop me from telling the tall stiff lady in the black knit halter that I thought she was absolutely wonderful, and that I absolutely adored her shoes.
"Get Up, Get on Down," could not have been a more appropriate choice for the mood I was in after hearing these guys. But the one song which resonated with me, and I think it always will was "NYC."
"If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere, I love NYC and NYC loves me."
The song was an homage to all the boroughs and residents of this great city who contribute to it's greatness. It was a great closer because this awesome band played for an audience of, at the most 20 people in a tiny dive bar in Manhattan with the same intensity and fire as though they were playing for a crowd of 200,000 at Madison Square Gardens. It taught me an incredible lesson.
The Man In Tan and his band made it quite clear that he and the band were doing what they loved, and it was evident. That kind of love is infectious. It makes you want to move, to feel, to make love and give love...
There's no doubt that New York City is a hard city. It can wear you down, beat you up and spit you out, yet it is also a welcoming place for your dreams and aspirations. All you have to do is want it. It's life's most fulfilling and precious gift to do what one loves and be recognized for it-whether you play to a crowd of 200, 000 or 20. Muchos Kudos to the "The Idea" for filling my head with many.
Posted by renee at 9:08 AM | Comments (0)
September 10, 2006
Sensitive
Can't sleep tonight
Thinking about the last time
We spoke
It was the first time you cursed at me
It sliced me right in half, fileted me
like a piece of fish
"You're so sensitive; so emotional, baby don't take life so
seriously, deliberately (I don't)
Trying to pretend that I don't hear you, pretending you aren't in front of me
In my way (Get out!)
I've never been good at hiding. Someone always finds me, before I want to be found.
Before I need to be found.
Just listen to me.
Take me seriously.
The lesson was hard, but I learned it the way it was meant to be learned. Some call it fate, or destiny. I call it God loving me.
I'll tell you why
I must be so sensitive and so emotional
Cynical even
That way I can turn my pain into something laughable
It's only real if I want it to be.
Life goes on. Thank God.
Posted by renee at 4:11 PM | Comments (0)