Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Good things come to those...
It seems as though the internship work is an excuse to fill up the time in between weekends. I’m past the halfway mark, so it’s time to start jamming more into those days.
On Friday night I went down yet again to Café Boogaloo, where Tab Benoit was playing for a $15 cover. I knew he was quite a big name in the blues scene but I didn’t expect a queue to form outside the pub, much to my dismay, especially since I had already spent 15 minutes circling the place for a parking lot and walking another 5 minutes in the evening chill. Not wanting to grease the bouncer’s palms for an exorbitant fee, I opted instead to freeze my butt off in line while the first few songs were being played. During that period I kept questioning the sense in the long wait, but a tingling feeling (apart from the shivering) deep inside told me that I should stay.
Recalling my early experiences of trying to catch decent live blues several years ago, which were much worse, mitigated my doubts. Those days of cheap, tasteless beer kept in the mug through all 3 sets till it was flat to conserve expenses, of running to catch the last MRT, of volume abuse by blues-bands-in-name, of stale cigarette air...ah well, if you want to be a disciple of the blues, you’ve got to pay the dues.
Finally, Bob the bouncer waved me in after a hearty handshake and collecting the dough. I was pleasantly surprised that he actually remembered me from that night hanging out with Junior Watson. Perhaps it helps that not many short Asian guys hang out here.
It was jam-packed, with hardly enough room to move. Utilising my relative size advantage, I squeezed my way to the bar and got my pint, before maneuvering to a vantage point where I could catch a good glimpse of the action on stage, all the while holding my pint close to prevent the precious fluid from spilling.
The wait was well worth it. Tab played a distinctly different style of blues from the conventional Chicago / West Coast influenced players. He’s from New Orleans, and his music was a potent mixture of blues, zydeco and funk. The distinct Cajun rhythms and swampy grooves from the rhythm section blended to create an infectious groove that had the dance floor packed from beginning to end. I couldn’t sit still either, alternating between swaying ungracefully, vigorous foot-tapping and drumming my hands on the bar. If I were there with any female companion I would have grabbed her (no, not like that) and hit the dance floor, doing my best imitation of Saturday Night Dengue Fever.
2 sets and 2 encores went by too quickly and by then it was already 0130 hrs. I’d tanked up on 3 marvellous pints, namely Red Seal Ale, Anchor Liberty Aleand Hoptown Paint The Town Red. These are micro-brew or craft beers from small, independent breweries, and I will be getting acquainted with more in time to come. They’re definitely in a different class altogether, a much more tasteful and satisfying treat for the thirsty throat than the average lager. There’s so much variety in their tastes to tickle the palate, and a lot more fun than snobbish wines. Besides, a cold pint glass just feels right in my grubby mitts compared to those itsy-bitsy little wine glasses.
Fantastic music, great beer and dancing eye-candy, what's not to like?
The Weekend Chronicles will continue after these messages.
On Friday night I went down yet again to Café Boogaloo, where Tab Benoit was playing for a $15 cover. I knew he was quite a big name in the blues scene but I didn’t expect a queue to form outside the pub, much to my dismay, especially since I had already spent 15 minutes circling the place for a parking lot and walking another 5 minutes in the evening chill. Not wanting to grease the bouncer’s palms for an exorbitant fee, I opted instead to freeze my butt off in line while the first few songs were being played. During that period I kept questioning the sense in the long wait, but a tingling feeling (apart from the shivering) deep inside told me that I should stay.
Recalling my early experiences of trying to catch decent live blues several years ago, which were much worse, mitigated my doubts. Those days of cheap, tasteless beer kept in the mug through all 3 sets till it was flat to conserve expenses, of running to catch the last MRT, of volume abuse by blues-bands-in-name, of stale cigarette air...ah well, if you want to be a disciple of the blues, you’ve got to pay the dues.
Finally, Bob the bouncer waved me in after a hearty handshake and collecting the dough. I was pleasantly surprised that he actually remembered me from that night hanging out with Junior Watson. Perhaps it helps that not many short Asian guys hang out here.
It was jam-packed, with hardly enough room to move. Utilising my relative size advantage, I squeezed my way to the bar and got my pint, before maneuvering to a vantage point where I could catch a good glimpse of the action on stage, all the while holding my pint close to prevent the precious fluid from spilling.
The wait was well worth it. Tab played a distinctly different style of blues from the conventional Chicago / West Coast influenced players. He’s from New Orleans, and his music was a potent mixture of blues, zydeco and funk. The distinct Cajun rhythms and swampy grooves from the rhythm section blended to create an infectious groove that had the dance floor packed from beginning to end. I couldn’t sit still either, alternating between swaying ungracefully, vigorous foot-tapping and drumming my hands on the bar. If I were there with any female companion I would have grabbed her (no, not like that) and hit the dance floor, doing my best imitation of Saturday Night Dengue Fever.
2 sets and 2 encores went by too quickly and by then it was already 0130 hrs. I’d tanked up on 3 marvellous pints, namely Red Seal Ale, Anchor Liberty Aleand Hoptown Paint The Town Red. These are micro-brew or craft beers from small, independent breweries, and I will be getting acquainted with more in time to come. They’re definitely in a different class altogether, a much more tasteful and satisfying treat for the thirsty throat than the average lager. There’s so much variety in their tastes to tickle the palate, and a lot more fun than snobbish wines. Besides, a cold pint glass just feels right in my grubby mitts compared to those itsy-bitsy little wine glasses.
Fantastic music, great beer and dancing eye-candy, what's not to like?
The Weekend Chronicles will continue after these messages.
# posted by BloozeGit @ 10:55 am 
