The Odyssey -- Face the Music (Part 1)
Carrying around that heavy backpack with my computer in it and other stuff started to make my face hurt. Maybe I need a different kind of backpack; one that doesn't just pull down. (I see some have straps that go around the midsection too, for instance.)
It's a $75 backpack. It shouldn't be too crummy. I sprang for an expensive one 'cause I wanted it to have good balance and not destroy my posture and everything. But while the manufacturer may have built the thing to protect posture, they don't seem to have been at all concerned about the delicate inner structure of my face. (As I said, all the pulling makes it hurt.)
It got to the point where I had to start carrying it by its handle instead of wearing it, which sort of flies in the face of the raison d'etre of the backpack. And the carrying didn't help much anyway as I seem to have weak arms and the constant effort to hold the bag high, caused me to tighten the inflamed muscles of my face, reinforcing their pain.
And when I let my arm be pulled low by the weight of the thing, my face muscles were pulled low too, not given the rest they needed to regain their smile-producing buoyancy.
All this was much on my mind (and in my face) as I headed toward Brooklyn's Barbes, where I would soon be seeing The Jug Addicts.
The Jug Addicts are a "jug band", playing (more or less -- they do play "La Vie en Rose") traditional American music on the rustic makeshift instruments of yesteryear, cobbled together from washboards, jugs, washtubs, etc. (as with England's "skiffle" music). They used to be called Bill Carney's Jug Addicts, for their founder, Bill Carney, but since he has a lower profile in the aggregation than other members, they seem to have decided that featuring him in the band's name is both misleading and silly. (Two characteristics I happen to like.)
Bill is also the founder and driving force of the fake French pop band, Les Sans Culottes, and also a lawyer, which cam in handy when most of the other members of Les Sans Culottes kicked Bill out of the band and took the band's name and concept (Bill's brainchildren) for themselves.
Despite having to contend with an angry, old, blind judge who thought the whole issue was ridiculous (I'm only reporting what I was told), Bill won back his ideas and, eventually, after a period in which two bands were called "Les Sans Culottes", the renegades were forced to rename themselves and Bill, in the grip of a merciless jug addiction, was once a gain free to, under the name Clermont Ferrand, parody and celebrate Serge Gainsborough and his ilk to semi-comprehending New Yorkers.
The other LSC became "Nous Non Plus" or "Us No More". I believe they are currently on tour in France. (And England.)
In any event, Gil Schuster, part of a group I became friendly with during the early 'oughts, when I performed frequently at the late, lamented Blah Blah Lounge (where I was once complimented after a show by a guy who had previously seen me at Manchester's "Frog and Bucket"), plays washtub bass with the Addicts and "Caveman", Gil's longtime friend and my more recent one, had invited me to attend the show.
I think Caveman sometimes considers my attendance at such functions to be a referendum on my enthusiasm for him, but regardless of the subtext, I was glad to attend because the jug band, as they are called by intimates, can be very entertaining. Last summer, at the big(ish) "Brooklyn Woodstock", held in the sizable backyard of Gil Schuster's Victorian home in Flatbush, the band held forth, surrounded by dancing, trees, and summer winds, in an enthralling manner that made me an unabashed fan.
So, I voted in favor of Caveman and strode into the Barbes backroom to find (I should have expected it) no Caveman.
(This is a reasonably good place to stop for today, especially if I wanna stretch out this "Odyssey" thing a little longer, since this is really the last part of it. Still, I probably woulda finished it today, 'cept I'm having internet connection troubles in my "office" here at Starbucks (the bathroom is out of order, too) and the bookstore/cafe I'm gonna walk over to so I can post this doesn't let you use their electricity anymore, so I gotta do a bunch of internet stuff there on one battery charge. Needless to say, I haven't reread what I just wrote, so if it's lumpy, I'm sorry. But, anyway, lumps are sometimes good, like in chocolate pudding and other things I can't think of right now.)
__________________________________
7 February, 2007 @ 18:45 GMT
http://blogs.chortle.co.uk/andrewjlederer
It's a $75 backpack. It shouldn't be too crummy. I sprang for an expensive one 'cause I wanted it to have good balance and not destroy my posture and everything. But while the manufacturer may have built the thing to protect posture, they don't seem to have been at all concerned about the delicate inner structure of my face. (As I said, all the pulling makes it hurt.)
It got to the point where I had to start carrying it by its handle instead of wearing it, which sort of flies in the face of the raison d'etre of the backpack. And the carrying didn't help much anyway as I seem to have weak arms and the constant effort to hold the bag high, caused me to tighten the inflamed muscles of my face, reinforcing their pain.
And when I let my arm be pulled low by the weight of the thing, my face muscles were pulled low too, not given the rest they needed to regain their smile-producing buoyancy.
All this was much on my mind (and in my face) as I headed toward Brooklyn's Barbes, where I would soon be seeing The Jug Addicts.
The Jug Addicts are a "jug band", playing (more or less -- they do play "La Vie en Rose") traditional American music on the rustic makeshift instruments of yesteryear, cobbled together from washboards, jugs, washtubs, etc. (as with England's "skiffle" music). They used to be called Bill Carney's Jug Addicts, for their founder, Bill Carney, but since he has a lower profile in the aggregation than other members, they seem to have decided that featuring him in the band's name is both misleading and silly. (Two characteristics I happen to like.)
Bill is also the founder and driving force of the fake French pop band, Les Sans Culottes, and also a lawyer, which cam in handy when most of the other members of Les Sans Culottes kicked Bill out of the band and took the band's name and concept (Bill's brainchildren) for themselves.
Despite having to contend with an angry, old, blind judge who thought the whole issue was ridiculous (I'm only reporting what I was told), Bill won back his ideas and, eventually, after a period in which two bands were called "Les Sans Culottes", the renegades were forced to rename themselves and Bill, in the grip of a merciless jug addiction, was once a gain free to, under the name Clermont Ferrand, parody and celebrate Serge Gainsborough and his ilk to semi-comprehending New Yorkers.
The other LSC became "Nous Non Plus" or "Us No More". I believe they are currently on tour in France. (And England.)
In any event, Gil Schuster, part of a group I became friendly with during the early 'oughts, when I performed frequently at the late, lamented Blah Blah Lounge (where I was once complimented after a show by a guy who had previously seen me at Manchester's "Frog and Bucket"), plays washtub bass with the Addicts and "Caveman", Gil's longtime friend and my more recent one, had invited me to attend the show.
I think Caveman sometimes considers my attendance at such functions to be a referendum on my enthusiasm for him, but regardless of the subtext, I was glad to attend because the jug band, as they are called by intimates, can be very entertaining. Last summer, at the big(ish) "Brooklyn Woodstock", held in the sizable backyard of Gil Schuster's Victorian home in Flatbush, the band held forth, surrounded by dancing, trees, and summer winds, in an enthralling manner that made me an unabashed fan.
So, I voted in favor of Caveman and strode into the Barbes backroom to find (I should have expected it) no Caveman.
(This is a reasonably good place to stop for today, especially if I wanna stretch out this "Odyssey" thing a little longer, since this is really the last part of it. Still, I probably woulda finished it today, 'cept I'm having internet connection troubles in my "office" here at Starbucks (the bathroom is out of order, too) and the bookstore/cafe I'm gonna walk over to so I can post this doesn't let you use their electricity anymore, so I gotta do a bunch of internet stuff there on one battery charge. Needless to say, I haven't reread what I just wrote, so if it's lumpy, I'm sorry. But, anyway, lumps are sometimes good, like in chocolate pudding and other things I can't think of right now.)
__________________________________
7 February, 2007 @ 18:45 GMT
http://blogs.chortle.co.uk/andrewjlederer
posted by Andrew J. Lederer at 1:52 PM
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