Fiftieth Communion
This is a picture of me at my First Communion. And, next Saturday the 11th, it will be my 50th. Birthday, that is. And in Sixthstation fashion, I'm going to celebrate with music by communing with two of my very favorite bands. They will help me ring in my next half century at the Port of Hamburg on South Howell.
The bands? Why, could I have picked two more diverse bands, with the thing in common is their excellence in their genres? No, I could not.
We have The Danglers: psychedelic jazz prog free-form blistering emotionally-charged musical virtuosos who have this chameleon-like ability to size up a crowd and deliver a performance that leaves jaws dragging on the floor in shock and awe, making it look easy by seamlessly merging disparate influences (oh dear god I'm starting to sound like Dave Marsh...)
And then we have Floor Model: snotty, loud, tight, radical, clever, sharp old bastards whose rapier wit slices through everybody from CIA-infested political "leadership" to pretentious riverwest punk rock grrrls (that resemble me in my late 20s) who nod in agreement to every word Charles Bukowski belches out.
And the Port of Hamburg? Timmy O'Keefe's Port of Hamburg? (because when you're thinking fine german reinheitsgebot-styled beer auf Hamburg, you're thinking "O'Keefe") Excellent selection of fine beverages to keep your liver pickled for another 50 years.
My birthday's really December 8, but a) that's a school night and b) it's a Holy Day of obligation and I wouldn't want to interrupt anybody's pre-Communion fast.
The bands? Why, could I have picked two more diverse bands, with the thing in common is their excellence in their genres? No, I could not.
We have The Danglers: psychedelic jazz prog free-form blistering emotionally-charged musical virtuosos who have this chameleon-like ability to size up a crowd and deliver a performance that leaves jaws dragging on the floor in shock and awe, making it look easy by seamlessly merging disparate influences (oh dear god I'm starting to sound like Dave Marsh...)
And then we have Floor Model: snotty, loud, tight, radical, clever, sharp old bastards whose rapier wit slices through everybody from CIA-infested political "leadership" to pretentious riverwest punk rock grrrls (that resemble me in my late 20s) who nod in agreement to every word Charles Bukowski belches out.
And the Port of Hamburg? Timmy O'Keefe's Port of Hamburg? (because when you're thinking fine german reinheitsgebot-styled beer auf Hamburg, you're thinking "O'Keefe") Excellent selection of fine beverages to keep your liver pickled for another 50 years.
My birthday's really December 8, but a) that's a school night and b) it's a Holy Day of obligation and I wouldn't want to interrupt anybody's pre-Communion fast.
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