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When I lived in DC, I played keys for about a year in a band called The Jones. It marked a sort of musical re-awakening for me. (A musical re-awakening which has since gone back to sleep, I might add.) I had been into music all through college and had played in a band called "Fifth Beat." We mostly played jazz standards, mixed in with a few pop odds and ends, like Morphine's "Good." I also had a semi-regular gig back then where I played an antique upright at a bistro called Harb's. I loved the way that piano sounded, even though it was jarringly out of tune and some of the keys in the lower register didn't actually hammer notes at all. Harb's paid me with dinner. And the Harb's patrons sometimes put tips into my glass. I felt like the Billy Joel of the Blue Ridge.

I didn't really keep up with my playing post-graduation. Then, when C and I moved to DC in 2003, I met Mike at The Childe Harold and he invited me to play with them, and I did, and things kind of clicked. I bonded with him and the bassist Jeff over the fact that we all really loved The Black Keys. And so we'd jam in Mike's basement figuring out how to work a piano or Hammond into the songs. We got some gigs and played a few of the local DC clubs ... Staccato, DC9, Velvet Lounge. Oh, the drinking! Oh, the drugs! Oh, the women and all-night orgies. Yes, the band temporarily saved me from all these things. Then there was some band drama that went down. Drummer issues, conflicting schedules, lack of rehearsal space. A general malaise swept over the group. When VH1 calls Mike one day to do a "Behind the Music" special on The Jones, they will refer to this time as a "dark valley" in the group's history. And they will likely refer to my beard and curly mop of hair as "tragic."

I wound up sort of falling out of The Jones. I didn't really quit, nor did they ask me to leave. I just found life pressures were getting in the way (see note above: drinking, drugs, all-night orgies) and so I went on a permanent leave-of-absence. But I have fond memories of the time I spent in the band.

The Jones' sound has changed a lot in the last couple of years. Evolved. In a good way. I'm impressed. George is now the drummer. He had started right around the time I was phasing out and I could tell he would bring good things to the overall sound. There is also a new bass player, Rich. (Well, he's new to me ... I actually think he's been playing with Mike and George for a while now.) Based on the recent recordings I've heard on their MySpace page, it sounds like he's a great addition.

Anyway, let me get to the point: all of this is a very long-winded (and, yes, self-indulgent) way of me saying that if you're in DC or NYC you can (and should) catch The Jones at one of these two shows:

DC: Rock and Roll Hotel, Friday August 8th, 9:30 pm

New York: Kenny's Castaways, Saturday August 9th, 10:30pm

I'm planning on going to the New York show. Maybe I'll see you there.

Along with the several pics I've just posted of me and the band during the time I was in it, here's a demo recording we did. I kind of like this track, even though now I'm not so sure I like the droning piano riff I am playing in it. The solo with the organ sound around the 2:05 mark is kinda minimalist cool, though. In addition to Mike on vocals and Jeff on bass, Mat is playing drums in this one. The song is called "Gun Jump." It is written by Mike, as is most of The Jones' material. Enjoy!



link to this | comments (1) | File:  NY  Music  DC 

Saturday, we went into New York to see a show. Hoshi was wearing her brand-new Jersey plates, which we had finally gone and picked up earlier that morning at the DMV. It was strange seeing her in that sickly yellowish color grade instead of the strong DC blue and white and red. But ugly as the NJ plates are, they do manage to give us a sense of "belonging" here. Because now when people randomly honk at us for accelerating at a normal rate instead of immediately hitting 60 from a dead stop (we can't all be like some blondes), we understand that what they are saying to us is: "Hey, Brother. Fellow New-Jersian. Look, I'm sorry to seem rude, but it's out of the utmost respect that I must give you this little toot of my horn, and beg of you, kind sir, to let's please have a move on, shall we?" And not: "Get out of my way you ridiculous foreigner with your out-of-state plates or I will drive over your ass and you will hurt mightily." It's a subtle difference, but I hear it now, and I get it. And I feel the love.

Since we were heading up-town, we took the Lincoln tunnel. Our other trips into the city had been via the Holland, so this was new territory for us. We had a Google Maps printout along with C's Blackbery Navigator. But all our modern navigational accoutrements couldn't anticipate a road closure on the other side. We were supposed to take this particular ramp that would take us to the West Side Highway via 42nd, but when we were delivered out of the depths of the tunnel into the city, we discovered it was tragically blocked off for no apparent reason. Just these menacing orange cones standing in our way between here and there. And the really frustrating part was that we could see clearly that if we had gone through the right-most tube of the tunnel, we would have come up exactly where we wanted to be and would have had no problem entering the ramp. But having gone through the left-most tube, we couldn't cut over. Or rather, we could. It was possible. It's just that these cones were in our way. Funny the influence that cones have over our driving, isn't it?

Okay. No problem. We'd just resort to our instinctual "city sense," you know, the kind that naturally develops after four years of driving around Washington DC, with its strange two-ways that become one-ways or that dead end altogether, only to resume a couple of blocks later, and the circles and diagonal state streets intersecting the letters and numbers at random places. With C navigating and me driving, we'd be good. If by "good" you meant taking a series of "gut-instinct" turns only to wind up on a one-way stretch of pavement that took us straight back into the Lincoln heading west into New Jersey. There was no passing "Go." No collecting $200.

I guess if you wanted to put a positive spin on all of this, you could say that we enjoyed our trip through the Lincoln so much, we were willing to pay another $8 to do it all over again. Back on the Jersey side, even though there were more orange cones indicating to me that I should not, under any circumstances, cut back over to the east-bound lanes, I had no more patience for their senseless warnings. And so I cut across anyway. Because I had no doubt that if we continued on our current trajectory we might wind up in Pennsylvania. And I was in no mood for a cheesesteak. I felt I might have a harder time getting away with a cone-crossing move now that I had local tags. Because one advantage of being a foreigner is that people are a little more forgiving of you, even if it's with an attitude of "you poor sod, go on, then." But nobody said anything. Not even a honk. I really don't think it matters what you do on the road here, as long as you do it quickly and decisively.

So we paid our $8 and went through the tunnel again, this time going through the right-most tube, and we finally made it to the Upper West, and even found street parking, which was a bonus. And while I'd love to tell you that all of this effort was for some Broadway show like Avenue Q, or Wicked, or Grease, that shit just ain't the truth. The truth is that we were heading to Symphony Space to see 5 Centimeters Per Second, which was showing as part of a "Children's Film Festival" there. C is on a mission to make me an anime fan. And I have to admit that this series of three short films went a long way toward that goal. It was definitely my kind of story, laced with just the right blend of tragic longing and melancholy. Makoto Shinkai is a master at making the viewer ache along with the characters. The final film in the trilogy was a little disappointing, but the first two were great. Here's a trailer, though the narration is kind of bad. One reason I liked it so much was that Shinkai loaded the film with all of these visual details of Japanese culture. Weird little things like the hand rings in the subway, or the water bottles, or the coffee machines. And it all really brought back our trip from last year.

After the show, we met up with Kelly and her friend, walked around central park a bit, and then stopped for dinner at a grill where I ordered Shepherd's Pie and Guinness in honor of St. Patty's Day. And while we did manage to do the Lincoln in only one trip on the way back, we couldn't help but experiment with an alternate route back to our house, which wound up taking us way out of our way and through Newark. Unfortunately, the best way to learn your way around a city is to get lost in it a lot, and we still have a lot of learning to do.

link to this | comments (2) | File:  Hoshi  Ho_Hum  Japan  Movies  NY  Weekend 

C went to California this weekend, and I went to Southpaw Prison in Brooklyn with A & K and a few others to watch Johnny Cash perform. Okay, it wasn't really Johnny Cash. It was Alex Battles. And Southpaw isn't really a prison, but if it were, it would be the best damn prison ever. Because this prison had a coat-check and free-flowing Kelso on draft.

It was the Johnny Cash 76th Birthday Bash that brought us out. The main event was Alex Battles' Whiskey Rebellion faithfully recreating the Folsom Prison concert in its entirety, right down to the "announcements" that occur between the songs. There were even visits from June Carter (played by Jessica Rose and Becky Birmingham). It was a lot of fun, and Alex Battles was very convincing as Johnny Cash.

The evening opened with the Susquehanna Industrial Tool & Die Co., who played some classic hillbilly country. Swing, swing, swing. That was followed with some rare Johnny Cash films displayed larger-than-life on the side wall. It was kind of eerie seeing Johnny Cash's giant head floating above the crowd like that, but it helped set the mood.

Here's a shot of Battles. And there are some more fuzzy photos here.

And here's a shaky video I took. Now, before you go making fun of my video skills, keep in mind that I wasn't really trying to get the band. I mean, anybody could do that. What I really wanted was a close-up of that guy's beer-hand blocking Alex Battles' face. And I got it, brother. Spot on. Not bad, eh?




link to this | comments (3) | File:  NY  Music  Brooklyn