2shows and not much else

from the top of the roseland balcony, king sunny ade + 9 person band looked like sparkle motion, flash-flashing deep funk, those deeply funky polyrhythms, the blinding magnitude of the best concert i will ever see, probably, ever. if you are ever going to hire someone to play talking drum on your record, and you have maybe like, $12,000 and a few plane tix from Nigeria, you should hire those guys.
CONFESSION ONE–starving and locked in the roseland for like five hours with nary a snack that didn’t involve lamb shank, snail meat or beefy eggrolls, i ate meat for the first time since 1997. the verdict? i don’t know, ask the surgeon who performed the cesarian. ick.
also last week caramanica and i saw erasure play one of their eight-night sold-out stretch; apparently jon thought the band had a niche fanbase that included only the asian kids who went to his jr. high smart camp–but that’s his story to tell. mine ist that neil hamburger, or whatever the erasure guy’s singer’s name is, was fully wearing no shirt, green sequined hotpants, gigantic white angel wings and sang “don’t give up don’t give up, together we’ll break the chains of love”–i’d break the chains of love solo if i had that dude’s stylist, though. I am currently working next on obtaining giant feather cabaret fans.
CONFESSION TWO: we missed rapid ric because of erasure.
they were on point, as on point as you need erasure to be, “on point” not precluding “en pointe.” and the audience sang along like it was karaokethon 1987–dude might have used a guide track but who cares, get out of the 20th century, authenticity is ripply and hologramic. get over it.
i am just freestyling, you can tell by the shitty grammar.