art of the jam 5
darrin kobetich, steven huber, and brian sharpe. together onstage at the same time. it happened, dude, and you missed it.
one of the few non-snazz aspects of the recent miles davis tribute at the black dog was the notable absence of brian, the trumpet-blowing, straight-smoking, hideaway-bartending raconteur and bon vivant who's long held down friday nights on fred's patio (weather permitting) with vocalist rebecca gillespie and his band -- now dubbed saint frinatra -- that usually includes the estimable frank hailey on keys. brian belonged there if only because no other local trumpeter employs the harmon mute, that essential element of miles' tone, with such skill. although he's saturated with jazz to his bones, he fit in well with the eclectic mob at the wreck, which, in addition to serious shredder-cum-ragagrass avatar darrin and fw symphony violinist steven, included bandleader-ringmaster lee allen (now handling bass duties in scott copeland's sidetracks, who played an hour-long set before the jam but regrettably didn't stick around to participate); jeremy hull of collin herring/jason davis/dallas original jazz orchestra etc. fame on second bass (but not second fiddle); and damien stewart (briefly spelled by jeffrey williams) on drums.
absent carl pack, a lot of weekly wednesday night "standards" (exceptions: "la fiesta" and "manic depression") fell by the wayside in favor of a few surprises: a warmup on the minutemen's "no one" from three way tie for last; a bit of hendrix "who knows" from band of gypsies; a gallop through "chameleon" (mr. hull, he likes those fast tempos). confusatron's john stevens stopped by to add his always-fiery gtr to "pictures of matchstick men" (the '60s hit by status quo, the band that played live aid, then got garrruuunnnk and forgot it -- possibly the real-life model for spinal tap) and, um, "i will survive" (that's right, kids -- the '70s gay disco staple, more recently covered by cake and sung at the wreck by steven huber), and there were episodes of freestylin' by wreck impresario brian forella and mockingbird cartel's frontguy cadillac fraf. also resurrected was steven's 7/4 romp he calls "dry hump burn."
a nice, mellow evening which was immensely enjoyed by all, um, five people in attendance, and thankfully captured on andre edmonson's vcr. shoulda been there.
one of the few non-snazz aspects of the recent miles davis tribute at the black dog was the notable absence of brian, the trumpet-blowing, straight-smoking, hideaway-bartending raconteur and bon vivant who's long held down friday nights on fred's patio (weather permitting) with vocalist rebecca gillespie and his band -- now dubbed saint frinatra -- that usually includes the estimable frank hailey on keys. brian belonged there if only because no other local trumpeter employs the harmon mute, that essential element of miles' tone, with such skill. although he's saturated with jazz to his bones, he fit in well with the eclectic mob at the wreck, which, in addition to serious shredder-cum-ragagrass avatar darrin and fw symphony violinist steven, included bandleader-ringmaster lee allen (now handling bass duties in scott copeland's sidetracks, who played an hour-long set before the jam but regrettably didn't stick around to participate); jeremy hull of collin herring/jason davis/dallas original jazz orchestra etc. fame on second bass (but not second fiddle); and damien stewart (briefly spelled by jeffrey williams) on drums.
absent carl pack, a lot of weekly wednesday night "standards" (exceptions: "la fiesta" and "manic depression") fell by the wayside in favor of a few surprises: a warmup on the minutemen's "no one" from three way tie for last; a bit of hendrix "who knows" from band of gypsies; a gallop through "chameleon" (mr. hull, he likes those fast tempos). confusatron's john stevens stopped by to add his always-fiery gtr to "pictures of matchstick men" (the '60s hit by status quo, the band that played live aid, then got garrruuunnnk and forgot it -- possibly the real-life model for spinal tap) and, um, "i will survive" (that's right, kids -- the '70s gay disco staple, more recently covered by cake and sung at the wreck by steven huber), and there were episodes of freestylin' by wreck impresario brian forella and mockingbird cartel's frontguy cadillac fraf. also resurrected was steven's 7/4 romp he calls "dry hump burn."
a nice, mellow evening which was immensely enjoyed by all, um, five people in attendance, and thankfully captured on andre edmonson's vcr. shoulda been there.
posted by stashdauber at 7:13 PM
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