And thus begins another sexy, sexy Thursday night at home.
Okay, maybe I'm lying. It's not too particularly sexy... but I'm ok with it.
You ever have one of those days where EVERYONE you know seems to be getting sick around you? All of my friends are coming down with assorted colds and flus and such... so I'm thinkin' I'm stayin' in tonight and getting to bed early to best avoid catching cooties. I don't deal well with colds. Not one bit.
This weekend is gonna be insanity. For one, there's this huge reggae festival going on in my town this weekend... and it's pretty much parked at the entrance to my club. So Friday should be gobs of fun. Have I mentioned how much I hate reggae? So I'm gonna bring in a little Marley, a little Tosh, and a lotta dancehall/dub stuff... so that way if i DO get ragga requests I can actually play DECENT stuff rather than hearing a cover of "Jammin" for the 9 millionth time.
My favorite part about the annual reggae fest is that they bring in all these area reggae bands... from Wisconsin. And Canada. And Michigan. Because when I think about the lush, tropical rhythms of reggae, I immediately think of... Milwaukee?
And these guys will leap onstage and be like "Yo, mon, feel de rasta vibe! Dis ting be jammin, mon!" and then immediately leave the stage and go up to the bar and are like, "Oh, hi, can I get a Schlitz please?" It's absolutely ridiculous. Faux accents and all the bullshit...
OH - and let's not forget about my favorite area reggae act. Aswah Greggory & the Enforcers. (I think that's how he spells his last name.) Anyways, ol' Aswah is from Chicagoland I think - and he really is 'OL Aswah - dude's gotta be in his late 50's or so - anyways, his schtick is that, whenever there's silence in his set or he needs to make a point or whatever, he yells, "Rrrrrrrrrrright!" Time and time again. Me and the sound engineers at the club I work at have actually held contests to guess the # of "Rrrrrrrrright!"'s he does. Last time? I'm not kidding here, folks. 74 friggin' times in a 2 hour set. I hold these deep hidden fantasies where he yells "Rrrrrrrrright!" for the 75th time, and I walk onstage with an Uzi and go, "WWWWWRONG, BITCH!" and take his head off to the amusement and applause of the crowd.
Anyways, so yeah, its reggae fest out here this weekend. Oh, yeah, I forget, People-Who-Are-Not-From-Here might read this thing. In which case, lemme tell you the NAME of this thing - it's called Ya Maka My Weekend - by name alone it should be boycotted.
Thankfully, though, I only have to endure the Friday night of the fest. I took Sat. off from DJ hell to sojourn to Chicago for the fantastical Polyphonic Spree, who just might be the bestest band ever. At least until their Up With People schtick wears off. But I'll take the choir-robe schtick over some aging rastafarian yelling "Rrrrrrright!" anyday.
So I'm taking a co-worker to the show on Sat. A girl whose favorite band is Sawyer Brown (didnt they win Star Search?) A girl who's never been exposed to the counterculture in her life. A girl who (though she wont say it) is probably a Bush supporter. I mentioned going shopping in Chicago this weekend - because, frankly, it's less effort than saying "I'm gonna go see this 28 piece band who wear choir robes and sing about the Sun." So I mention I'm going shopping, she mentions how she hasn't gone shopping in Chicago forever, and next thing I know, I'd invited her along and she shockingly said yes. And, honestly, she's good people, despite her lack of pop culture anything. So it should be reeeeeeally fun. Today she was like "So what's this band thing sound like?" and i went, "You know the band Pink Floyd, right? Well, imagine if Pink Floyd were all Muppets. And there were 28 of them. And they covered the soundtrack to Jesus Christ Superstar." So it should be amusing...
Okay, maybe I'm lying. It's not too particularly sexy... but I'm ok with it.
You ever have one of those days where EVERYONE you know seems to be getting sick around you? All of my friends are coming down with assorted colds and flus and such... so I'm thinkin' I'm stayin' in tonight and getting to bed early to best avoid catching cooties. I don't deal well with colds. Not one bit.
This weekend is gonna be insanity. For one, there's this huge reggae festival going on in my town this weekend... and it's pretty much parked at the entrance to my club. So Friday should be gobs of fun. Have I mentioned how much I hate reggae? So I'm gonna bring in a little Marley, a little Tosh, and a lotta dancehall/dub stuff... so that way if i DO get ragga requests I can actually play DECENT stuff rather than hearing a cover of "Jammin" for the 9 millionth time.
My favorite part about the annual reggae fest is that they bring in all these area reggae bands... from Wisconsin. And Canada. And Michigan. Because when I think about the lush, tropical rhythms of reggae, I immediately think of... Milwaukee?
And these guys will leap onstage and be like "Yo, mon, feel de rasta vibe! Dis ting be jammin, mon!" and then immediately leave the stage and go up to the bar and are like, "Oh, hi, can I get a Schlitz please?" It's absolutely ridiculous. Faux accents and all the bullshit...
OH - and let's not forget about my favorite area reggae act. Aswah Greggory & the Enforcers. (I think that's how he spells his last name.) Anyways, ol' Aswah is from Chicagoland I think - and he really is 'OL Aswah - dude's gotta be in his late 50's or so - anyways, his schtick is that, whenever there's silence in his set or he needs to make a point or whatever, he yells, "Rrrrrrrrrrright!" Time and time again. Me and the sound engineers at the club I work at have actually held contests to guess the # of "Rrrrrrrrright!"'s he does. Last time? I'm not kidding here, folks. 74 friggin' times in a 2 hour set. I hold these deep hidden fantasies where he yells "Rrrrrrrrright!" for the 75th time, and I walk onstage with an Uzi and go, "WWWWWRONG, BITCH!" and take his head off to the amusement and applause of the crowd.
Anyways, so yeah, its reggae fest out here this weekend. Oh, yeah, I forget, People-Who-Are-Not-From-Here might read this thing. In which case, lemme tell you the NAME of this thing - it's called Ya Maka My Weekend - by name alone it should be boycotted.
Thankfully, though, I only have to endure the Friday night of the fest. I took Sat. off from DJ hell to sojourn to Chicago for the fantastical Polyphonic Spree, who just might be the bestest band ever. At least until their Up With People schtick wears off. But I'll take the choir-robe schtick over some aging rastafarian yelling "Rrrrrrright!" anyday.
So I'm taking a co-worker to the show on Sat. A girl whose favorite band is Sawyer Brown (didnt they win Star Search?) A girl who's never been exposed to the counterculture in her life. A girl who (though she wont say it) is probably a Bush supporter. I mentioned going shopping in Chicago this weekend - because, frankly, it's less effort than saying "I'm gonna go see this 28 piece band who wear choir robes and sing about the Sun." So I mention I'm going shopping, she mentions how she hasn't gone shopping in Chicago forever, and next thing I know, I'd invited her along and she shockingly said yes. And, honestly, she's good people, despite her lack of pop culture anything. So it should be reeeeeeally fun. Today she was like "So what's this band thing sound like?" and i went, "You know the band Pink Floyd, right? Well, imagine if Pink Floyd were all Muppets. And there were 28 of them. And they covered the soundtrack to Jesus Christ Superstar." So it should be amusing...