Sunday, March 30, 2014

It was not... (Allen Kanovsky trades in music for weather/food/social commentary, or what?)

Submitted by Al Kanovsky 03/30/14

...going to be one of my better days. 

I woke up to gray skies. My bacon & eggs tasted like mildewed cardboard. The coffee I brewed resembled pond water. It wasn't going to get better. The Ultra-Music Fest in Miami made any trip south impossible. Had been home two nights back to back and a trip to Le Chat Noir was now a cancelled plan. The only ray of light was J.P Soars at The Funky Biscuit, but had been there 3 of the last 5 nights and seen him. J.P. might have had enough of me. So I let myself fall into a state of mild depression. The situation called for drastic measures. I called my buddy Bill Rutan and then remembered that he doesn't go out on Saturday night because he loves his wife. I filled a glass with tequila but spilled most of it on myself. I was going to roll a "J" but was missing the main ingredient. Woe is me!

I tried contemplating my navel but it buried too deeply in blubber. Ropes end! My cell phone chimes. It's Jimmy Belize. "How about dinner with Nancy and then the Biscuit". "Where are you planning to eat?" "We are going to grill steak at Nancy's home". There's a break in the clouds. On the way to Nancy's, lightning fills the sky. Lightning is one of my favorite things which include steak charcoaled on a grill, a glass of wine and most of all good friends. Both Jimmy and I can talk the ears off of a buddha. Nancy has her ears attached more firmly. After dinner, Jimmy picks up an acoustic guitar and strums a few notes. I tell a tale about Route 66. Jimmy tells one about his days in Marakeesh. I respond with Miami Beach (circa 1947). We go from Denmark mountain tops to the California desert. From chicken farms to tropical reefs. We philosophize and romanticize.

We make Nancy laugh . Her little dog, "Spumoni" looks at the three of us and is convinced that something weird is going on. Jimmy and I know each other well enough to realize when the bull-s--t is getting too deep. Nancy encourages us to greater heights, or is it depths. Ice cream with a little chocolate syrup and a maraschino cherry tops off the dinner party --- off we go to The Funky Biscuit and J.P Soars & the Red Hots. We make it in time for the last 2 tunes. Chris Peet is playing drums, Pat Ward handles the bass, Steve Laudicina on guitar and J.P. is playing a 2 string guitar box. Our server Will makes sure we have a libation. Jimmy's friend Mark says "Hello". We settle down to listen. "Where Did You Sleep Last Night?" is a broken-heart BLUES and it's followed with a hand-clapper, toe tapper "The Same Thing". All of the band members take turns at impressing the audience with solos. Nancy, who is teaching herself to play guitar likes Pat's technique with the bass. Although it's late and the band is playing their last tune, Ray, the sound engineer is still here making the listening the best in all South Florida. I talk with Steve about the spelling of his last name. He tells me, for about the umpteenth time. He pronounces it "lord a seen a". I pronounce it "lord a cheena". It's the Sicilian? in me. A lot like "ku steel ya" and "kuh stig lee a" but that's another story.

I know that most of you read what I write because you like music. Maybe my writing should be restricted to that topic. Think about it. Would music be as good without friends? I don't think so ---. The difference is that music always tells --- the truth.

Al's Disclaimer:
A short note: The reason I write this is because I love music and words. I do not book acts. I do not promote acts. I do not accept invitations to review artists. I go to venues of my own choice. When and where is not influenced by anything other than who I would like to hear that night or day. If I don't like what I hear, I won't write about it. When I like it I let you all know. I never mention a name without asking permission. "Pardon me, Miss. Would you like to dance?"       

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