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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…

Thirty one hours until I leave for North Carolina.  It’s been years since any sort of travel for a gig.  I did clock in almost 100 gigs more than 150 miles from home back in 2001 or 2002, but that was long before I even met my loverly wife.  She was commenting on how, when we met, I didn’t really present myself as a musician.  I told her I worked part time in a CD store, which I did - rather poorly.  I tried to explain that at that time, late 2003, I had left the whole “jam-band” thing.  Fun scene, but couldn’t see myself ten years later still wearing t-shirts and jeans “noodling” around the same two or three chord vamps watching college trustifarians pack another bowl with some strain of something laced with something exotic that I always thought was either an oven cleaner or made in a trailer equipped with three Bunsen burners too many.

Tomorrow night the Nuns will be at the Venetian Clubin Philadelphia.  We end at 12:30am.  By some miracle I will be in bed and fully rested when I hit the road 6:45am with Melissa.  The rest of the band is leaving tomorrow, lucky bastards.  Sleep is all but over-rated.

Let’s start with a link…  http://www.nola.com/news/index.ssf/2009/02/stabbing_death_of_homeless_new.html 

Then move on to the HEADLINE attached to this link:  “Stabbing death of homeless New Orleans man ruled a homicide”. Anyone else kind of live their life assuming that a “stabbing death”, by definition is a homicide? 

Moving on…  according to this article the aroma found in English “Chips” is a complex blend of “butterscotch, cocoa, onion, cheese and would you believe …ironing boards, all combine to help make chips one of Britain’s iconic dishes.”

http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSTRE5195I920090210?feedType=RSS&feedName=oddlyEnoughNews

Ryan Plattsmeir, aka Ground Round, was a friend and a bandmate and someone you could always rely on.  He and Lou were inseparable and if one was invited the other usually came.  It’s hard to only invite a dog to an event, but we tried and Ryan would be in tow.  Unfortunately Ryan left this world just a few days before Halloween.

Once, after returning from gigs in Texas, I found Ryan on the balcony of my French Quarter apartment repairing our Central AC.  He looked up smiling, waved and stated to me that, “Your house is fucking HOT,” as if my wife hadn’t made that perfectly clear at midnight the night before when it broke.

Another time we spent the afternoon each with a 64oz frozen Daiquiris (each with the obligitory two extra shots of 151) and made Jambalya.  After the all-you-can-eat sausage and rice fest we picked up two more Daiquiris and proceded to attempt a rehearsal with drummer Bryan Besse.  Bryan had a lot of patience with us that night.  And I think that that night brought a friend to actually hear us rehearse.  He bought fresh Wisconsin cheese curd and is now a district attorney for a major southern city.

I remember us driving around playing music for each other.  Just before Katrina he had started getting into the bass playing of Graham Moby (who had a pretty cool trio with piano/pop hero Joe Jackson) and thought the song Airships by VNV Nation was cool enough to purchase the entire album.  The best thing about listening to music in Ryan’s car was that when his cell phone rang his car stereo would squelch our this horrid loud Satanic-like Static Yelp. 

Kristen and I have always had plans to return to NOLA and Ryan was always involved in my musical future.  Ryan, along with Bryan Besse (Bryan/Ryan is were the Ground/Round thing came about) and I had this rock power-trio called REEBATIBA that recorded a lot, but only played a few times live.  All three of us were busy with so many other bands that it just never hooked up right.  But I always wanted to return to that group.  Ryan and I co-wrote most of the music and I still have alot of it.  Kristen asked that we listen to it a few days after getting the news about Ryan. 

It’s good.  Then again, most things about Ryan were.

Announcement and Guestbook for Ryan.

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.