Dancing at the Jazz Estate

I was going to go to bed early last night, 10 pm or so, but in a burst of inspiration I decided to go to the Jazz Estate to see the Erotic Adventures of the Static Chicken band. Featuring Jesse Sheehan (sax, tablas), Chris Vos (guitars, vocals), Jeremy Kuzniar (drums), and Matt Turner (bass, yodel), the Static Chicken is by far my favorite tuesday night staple, especially if I’m in the mood for unpredictable, controlled chaos, with a hint of blues, gritty jazz, and deep funk. Yeow! Mama!

I was really not in the mood to be out, but I forced myself, and I’m glad I did. It made all the difference. I got there during their set-break, and once they started playing, Jeremy invited me up to play cowbell, muttering something about doing something Afrobeat influenced. I couldn’t say no. It was quite a pleasure and once I got into the groove I felt myself exploding with renewed vigor. Jeremy is such a blast to play with. He’s extremely intuitive, and not only has great feel, but an awesome personality. The jam lasted a good 10-15 minutes or more; I lost track of time. When it was over, I stepped down and started to dance. Suze and Amy were already tearing up the floor with their modern dance influenced gyrations, and I followed suit. Eventually, we started doing this contact improv thing similar to the other night. We wound up all over the floor, which was really fun (understatement of the evening).

I went to order a drink, and talked to Evan Christian for a while, and filled him in about my departure from One Drum. He was extremely sympathetic, and totally understood being burned out and needing to take time out from music for sanity’s sake. Observing the band, we agreed that Chris Vos rocked the house. Within minutes, Jesse Sheehan started channelling alien lifeforms through his saxophone. He seems to step away from his body at such points, and the music starts playing him. It’s unbelievable. I don’t think he realizes that it’s happening. Or maybe he does. Regardless, Jesse is a mean muddafucka of a sax player.

At this point, Ethan Keller was sitting in. I returned to the floor, and this time danced not only with Suze & Amy, but with Hadley as well. The band eventually stopped playing, but not before I had managed to slither, slide, and gesticulate wildly. It felt really good. I sat down, and talked to Eiton Eitan about how much fun it was playing one bass simultaneously at the party Saturday night. Honestly, I haven’t felt like that in years – I felt like I was in high school again, jamming with my good friends, the atmosphere was light, there was no heaviness, no overbearing egos or anything. It was just 2 people playing. Damn good. Thanks, Eiton Eitan.

Ahh, and Josie Jozi. She was there at the Estate, dancing and being herself. I still find her delicious. From the short conversation we had, she seems really insightful, sincere, confident, and won’t let her herself or her friends drive drunk. Very, very cool. And she remembers me playing in Mitchell Hall?!?! Astounding! Unthinkable! Hmmm….

I informed both Eiton Eitan & Josie Jozi that I had written about them in this very blog. I scrawled out the URL on some paper gleaned from a cigarette box. Hopefully they will visit and notice I wrote about them again!

As I lay on my bed writing this, I’m happy. I’m happy that I forced myself out of my house. I’ll be somewhat tired tomorrow, but life is simply too short to dwell on the trivial.

By the way, I fall asleep to the sound of the ocean at night. I found some great ocean wave sounds, and play them on my iPod all night long. It’s extremely relaxing rest.

Posted: March 23rd, 2005
Categories: blog, music
Tags: , ,
Comments: 2 Comments.
Comment from Jozi - 5 Apr ’05 at 8:03 pm

So I finally get a chance to see this. What a fantastic idea! You have a beautiful way with words, my dear. I should know, I’m an English major (should being key word in this accusation). I’m glad magical influence really can indeed…well…influence/inspire/create/manifest wonderment.
So here’s my take on the bar: When you’re standing across that crowded room by yourself, holding a cold, watered-down drink in one hand and a half-burned cigarette in the other, wondering when you’re going to get your chance to be the center of attention;when will people stop walking past you only bumping into your left hand holding the drink, pausing long enough to shoot you an apologetic nod and then scurry past to retreat to the bar for social sustinance, leaving you in waiting;when will that girl look your way, god you’ve been sending vibes her way for the last four songs and you know your energy is stronger than that, you know two songs was tops last week;when will your girlfriend stop regurgitating that disgusting pseudo-laugh in front of the lead singer of the band while showing all corners of her white, pearly teeth while you sit, forlorn, next to her feeling less than cool, less than sheek, less than the lead singer of a band;when will you be able to leave this fu**ing bar, the band rocks but the crowd sucks, isn’t that always the case, but your friends are dancing in the front in a drunken pursuit of evening entertainment, temporary entertainment, how doth the pretty butterfly…;when will he be done pleasing the masses, exuding his electrical energy on stage for all those intoxicated enthusists, leaving him a dwindling spark after the evening is over and you have a chance to be *gasp* alone with him, watching him touch the strings of his guitar with more grace and passion than he has ever touched you, watching his eyes close in ecstasy as he melts into the flowering notes of his creation, his mouth twisting with intention as his soul flows forth for fifty odd people to lap up and smother themselves with in blind admiration;when will all these voices shut up.
And what are we left with after an evening at the bar? A bad stomach, a bad headache, and perhaps soiled sheets? Or do we make these intimate connections with people that will never be forgotten over a shot and a beer?
Ay, let’s meet up for a shot man!

Comment from Roman Edirisinghe - 20 Sep ’05 at 9:37 pm

Jozi, I have no idea what you’re talking about.