First a little backstory: So I just walked home from the Dremo’s open mic, where I played second-to-last to a handful of die-hards who came out and stayed out despite the snow. And I just walked home in the sub-sub temperatures and have arrived positively reeking of smoke to my cozy apartment four-or-so blocks away. I played my new version of Cohen’s Hallelujah–yes, the 1M’th cover version of that song, but at least this version is mine–and it went over quite well.
So the first cat to play was actually a duo with a drum machine. I won’t tell you much more, but the dude had reading glasses–he was a very cool, older cat…
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Jimmy was the grandson of Carolina sharecroppers and a vietnam vet who brought his asian bride Nikki back with him after his fourth tour. He was an old R&B cat. Nikki learned bass and they played the Red Lion Tavern North in Charleston and raised two sons before moving to Virginia. He had a voice like a Hershey’s bar and played everything from Marvin Gaye to Shania Twain for his dedicated audiences of drunks and escaped husbands and mothers.
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Daniel talked to himself. This was a problem. He’d get looks–expecially when he yelled out “Fucking Nazis” in what could only be described as mild torret’s syndrome…but then the cell phone–or “mobile” (long “i”) as they are known in the “old country”–was invented. Suddenly every sharp dressed man and woman was also talking to his/herself, and Daniel fit right in. Except for the “Fucking Nazis” part.