The Band

Another time, another band. A swing band, a country band, a blues band. But also a rock band? I dunno really. In case you're wondering, I'm reffering to my new band. And a cool band at that. It bops, rocks and shuffles. It plays songs about going back to the womb and plays major songs like Minor Swing. It hopes to play songs on drunkenness, and songs about feeling good, and neurotic songs about the story of a man of constant sorrow. Its a good feeling all right, especially when melancholic little 2-5-1 minor sketches etch out a movie soundtrack in the dead of the night and neighbours howl to hear the preacherman saying, "You gotta move, you gotta move. Cause when the Lord gets ready, you gotta move." When the only defence left is to blame it all on the whiskey.
I like the eclectic mix. A blues stylist, a jazz prof, a busy virtuoso and a charlatan CAN make music together, as we prove everytime that we possibly can. Let me introduce some members of the band.

O'Neil: Goes by many names, mostly shifting. Has been called many things in the past, the Fertility God not being the least of them. He likes a bottle-neck and one suspects has a weakness for raucousness...at least on the record. Off it, he's enthusiastic but overworked, probably grits his teeth privately, and unfortunately calls people "babu" affectionately. Enough said.

The Prof: Ever wanted to know about the aeolian cadences of Stephane Grappelli's gay violin when he played the Moonlight Sonata in the buff? Yes? Then don't go to the Prof. Cause the Prof will take deep thought and say, "You see, that was a top forty hit." What you could approach the Prof with are intricate problems like the best way to play Eb7 6th in the seventh cycle of a true tour-de-force.Or a piece-de-resistance? Don't ask me. The Prof's waiting for queries such as these with his mp3's and dvd's and a band in the box called Pandora.

Obbligato Virtuoso: Ever wanted to know what sound a deep sea excavatory machine on the bed of the Mississipi would make? Come to Obbligato, and he'll wobble some mandolin legatos in your direction while you were absently humming Dark Hollow.
Running Obbligato eaves dropped: "I have a sexy mandolin." "Beethoven was a bugeoise sentimentalist." "I like long flutes." "Did you ever think that the unconcious doesn't need the mirror stage to recognise a buxom girl when it sees on?" (The last one isn't true, but you can't say where his mind might wander to.)

Charlatan: I whistle, I sing, I bandanna, I bling. I disaggree wholeheartedly till I'm agreeing against myself. I write a song filched from another song filched from another song filched from Gershwin. I'm his 85th cousin twice removed. I want to sing Aguas De Marco, cause I don't know any better, and it would be even better if I could segue it into Grateful When You're Dead. Say yeah yeah yeah someone, or I'll be deeply umbraged.

So there you have it, a motley of many coloured hues, dusty from all the earthy songs we do. A phenomenon of a foothistory, a postmodern pachyderm. But who cares? Its great fun!!