Back To Analog

I heard quite a bit of music over the weekend, most of it on my iPod while I was cleaning out the garage but we did go out on Friday to hear Ed Downey and his son at the Village Gate. They were kinda Dylan-like. You knew the words were probably great but you couldn’t understand them in the live setting. Ed told Peggi he was playing in another band, an avant jazz band, later that night in a parking lot across the street from the Cinema so we headed over there. We found a young, old fashioned prog rock band there so we kept moving. John Gilmore was driving and Peggi was sitting in the front seat when she spotted Joe Tunis hanging outside a bar near Monroe and Goodman. We pulled in the parking lot and watched a band with twins on guitar and violin set up for their performance. Nuuj was sitting behind his homemade analog synth playing booms and chiks with random sweeps.

We visited Peggi’s mom on Saturday and I ducked out to check up on our nephew who works at a nearby at pizzeria. I was happy to find he still had his job. I swung by Ken Frank’s place and interrupted his lawn mowing. He gave me an advance copy of a nasty sounding SLT record. “All killer, no filler” as Duane would say. I was listening to a German opera, probably something from Wagner. I know how much my mother-in-law likes opera so I tuned it in back at her place but first I had to turn the sound down on the tv. We watched “Animal Planet” with the opera as a soundtrack for about twenty minutes, a surreal experience, and Peggi’s mom said, “This is the weirdest music for this show”. Peggi suggested that we pop the André Rieu dvd in instead and we hit the road. About an hour later Peggi’s mom called and asked if we could come pick her up and give her a ride home from the concert. She was home, of course, bit it was nice to know she escaped for a bit.

Leo, our next door neighbor stopped by to see if we knew where his big magnet was. He had lost his hearing aid and thought he might be able to find it with the magnet. Peggi helped him locate that and we took a long walk in the neighbor next to ours stopping frequently to look at the silly things people do with their lots. The mini installations are every bit as interesting as the art you see in Chelsea.

Monica’s brother rode in on his Harley, the first one to show up for our neighbor’s house concert on Saturday. This one featured San Francisco via Buffalo singer songwriter Peter Case. We got in free for supplying the mic, cords and stand. Between songs Peter read the second chapter of his book, skipping the first one that concentrated on psychedelics. That was our favorite part and Peggi bought a copy. Monica’s brother and a couple from Cleveland stayed over and Monica came by on Sunday to borrow all our eggs so she could make breakfast for them all. I went back out to the garage and listened to some Sun Ra.

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