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I have been in talks regarding the upcoming all-Beatles gig I have on Sept 12 that there will a recording made that night of the performance.  It could really be something cool.  I have been spending 3 or more hours every other day working on arrangements of their material that can translate to piano, upright bass and percussion.  It has really been an eye-opening experience coming from a jazz background.  I know all these songs; I grew up on them, but dissecting them has jump-starting something really really neat.

On other topics.  I have been reading P.J. O’Rourke’s book “On Wealth of Nations” where he analizes “The Wealth of Nations” by Adam Smith from 1776.  It is a great read.  Not as humorous as I thought but very very good.  My favorite passage, thus far, follows:

Okay, yes, I admit that total removal of every market restraint would be “good for the economy.”  But money isn’t everything.  Think of the danger and damage to society.  Without government regulation the big shots who run companies like Enron, WorldCom, and Tyco could have cheated investors and embezzled millions.  Without restrictions on the sale of hazardous substances young people might smoke, drink, and even use drugs.  Without the licensing of medical practitioners the way would be clear for chiropractors, osteopaths, and purveyors of aromatherapy.  If we didn’t have labor unions, thirty thousand pepole would still be wage slaves at General Motors, their daily lives filled with mindless drudgeery.  And if there weren’t various forms of retail collusion in the pertroleum industry, filling stations could charge as little as they liked.  I’d have to drive all over town to find the best price.  That would waste gas.

There is also a great bit how the lower of society do have too much money just “look at Britaney Spears”.  And it all ties in with a text more than two hundred years old.

Garden Fest had it’s rain-date on Sunday the 17th. 

It was happening rain or shine…  And boy did I ever love waking up at 6:45am with a migraine.  Lying with a sleep mask and an ice pack I get the phone call an hour later that no music in Drake’s Garden.  Cool.  More time to recover.  After rolling out of bed, trying to choke down tea and realizing that maybe, just maybe, this migraine may just be a bad hangover I left to the Hill. 

Manuevering around the closed roads, tents, vendors, mediocre bands, crowds, rich over privileged underage moms is a talent most enjoyable.  Spending years trying to get in and out of Chestnut Hill during the Festivals (in addition to getting from one end to another for gigs) has put me in prime form.  No problem getting to Drake’s.  By 11:45am the sun is starting to burn through the clouds and it occurs to me that we could pull off the outdoor gig after all.  I make two calls, Katie and Drew.  I figure voice, drums and keys and voice would be a good starting point.  They are up for it, yet start to hate me for the wishy-washiness of this gig, and I go back home for all the gear. 

By the time we set up and start playing I notice Dave Cope arrived.  After hearing us from street he went home and got guitar and returned.  And look over there!  It’s Malcolm “the Raven” Sheppard, then Jason Fifield on bass.  Quite a band for two phone calls.

“You guys are the best music on the Avenue” is something we heard more than once during the Festival.  It is nice to be appreciated, but leaves us puzzled why others are getting booked for the stages.  Some of the acts booked are great.  Some are friends of mine.  Others are so bad that everyone, including the crowd listening, is making fun of how really terrible they are. 

After Drake’s was the Tavern on the Hill.  The Tavern is more or less my home base here in Philly.  It is what the Maple Leaf or Spotted Cat was in New Orleans.  People know now (as they knew then) if I didn’t have my cell phone they could call one of those bars and usually find me.  Whether I was able to talk or not…

The evening unfolded with Kristen and I discussing money issues.  We were going to try and go out and meet up with my boss, and friend, Carl and his wife after they went out to dinner.  After we realized we were broke it was decided that going out was not in the near future.  Then Pres. Bush came on every channel we have (we are on one of those fancy antennas) to discuss the economic crisis.  (This post is not anti-Bush or anything political so let’s not make it that.)  After the speech sends us on a deep depression Kristen takes the ball and decides it’s time to leave. 

A block from our apartment we see Carl on the street, waiting for Claire to join him outside.  We move on to the Tavern on the Hill for a cocktail.  Once there we are greeted with a half-full bar, most people we know.  The patrons trickle out over the next half hour and we are left, almost alone, with a strange man.  Kristen went outside and came back disturbed that this strange man came up to her and rubbed her shoulder and arm in a way that is somewhat inappropriate.  Ten minutes later, while Carl is outside on the phone, Claire scoots a stool closer to me (taking Carl’s seat) pretending to read a sign and whispers that the strange man came up and rubbed her back in a way that wasn’t kosher.

I speak to the owner who informs me that this character (lets refer to him as A-hole from now on) has been in there all evening buying drinks for females that don’t know him.  The group makes the decision that A-hole is ruining the evening and it’s time to move on.  We pay our tab, at which point I notice that A-hole is getting his tab as well.

Half a block away from the bar it is realized that Carl and Claire’s car should be moved.  Claire volenteers to do it alone.  She crosses the street and I see A-hole exit the bar.  Carl, Kristen and myself stop walking to watch and A-hole looks at us and looks at Claire (across the street from him at this point) and he goes to follow her.  We promptly cross the street where we are to keep an eye.   Kristen then runs towards Claire (now a block away) and yells for that she wants to ride with her.  She meets up with Claire and they go down the alley of closed stores toward the parking lot.  Once they get out of our sight A-hole breaks into running and chases after them. 

Without missing a beat both Carl and I kick it up and run after him, Carl yelling a prominent, “HEY!”.  At this point (and afterwards Carl thought the same thing) I realize that I will keep running towards this guy but have no clue what I will do when I get there.  I then turn to my right and realize that Carl still has a lit cigarette.  That’s all we need to get some answers.  I am still on the sidewalk and Carl has made a shortcut through Border’s parking lot.  I then witness the man leap (in full original Super Mario Bros.-style pose) over the four foot wall at the edge of the lot. 

Turning the corner we are greeted with the pleasent image of Claire and Kristen already in Claire’s car backing out of a space.  When Carl and I reach the parking lot A-hole is off to the side in the shadows, realizing that the “boys” had chased after the “girls”.  He stood in the shadows and didn’t even have the decency to pretend he was urinating.

Good news is that the douchebag paid with a credit card and we have his name.  We went down to Campbell’s and Roger hooked us up.  All in all the evening was cool for all the wrong reasons.  On a side note, while driving away A-hole came out of the shadows on a sidestreet and Kristen gave him the finger and he returned the gesture.