Today I went running in one of the most beautiful cities in the Midwest. Indianola! Didn't see any Indians, though. Where'd they go??
I DID see the old stone building, however, where I learned to play trumpet in 6th grade from Mr. Liljedahl. That guy was a genius on the piano, saxophone, trumpet, percussion, as well as composing his ass off! He was the guy who told me what it was ... when I saw his record collection and said, "Um, what's Woodstock?" We used to have hour-long discussions about time and matter and reality and truth and other things of Herculean nature. Learned alot.
But no-one could ever really explain that little stone building across from the Middle School (where we played trumpet), you know, the one that said, "Masonic Temple." Couldn't really understand who these guys the Masons were, who built that strange little temple at the turn of the century ... -Todd
Posted by calico at May 27, 2003 12:48 AMTwo fishbone-tails...
Numero UNO
2001, Aspen, CO where the people are whiter than the snow...but this was summer and I was being studious at the annual Summer Music School... Fishbone plays a local venue and my composer buddies and I attend, fairly plastered. Fishbone are playin' away, rockin' da hou', and some boys up front think it humorous to pour their beers on the stage in front of the band. From the mic comes..."This is a message from Black America! The next person who pours beer on this stage will be taken into the parking lot and have their ass kicked personally by the band." Yes! Later that night, still stumbling from the spirits, we approach the Fishbone tour bus and I drunkenly ask "Are you in Fishbone?" "...Yeah." I proceed to bust into my own rendition of the band's "Bonin' in the Boneyard," and dancin' the drunk white-boy dance. He ignored me and got on the bus. I'm lucky I didn't get my blond-haired-blue-eyed-devil-ass kicked.
Numero DOS
1996-ish, Hollywood. I'm attending a Bootsy Collins show at Casa d'Azzure (that's Ity-talk for House of Blues). Opening for Bootsy is a scraggily group of hoods calling themselves "Trulio Discracias." About 15 minutes into the set, I realize that half the band is from Fishbone. The first one I saw was that crazy-azz sax man with the mohawk...The first thing he did when he got onstage was moon the audience (that means showing your butt....). Quite an entrance. This evening was obviously an excuse for a jam session with all their Venice musician friends (y'know the guys from the drum circle on the beach). The haphazard leader of this jam session had to yell "Stop!" in the middle of a song and say "Alright, tune up those muh-fuckin' guitars right the fuck now!" A True musician!