Saw Hoots and Hellmouth last night. After two songs in a tiny, table-filled venue, they successfully requested that people start dancing. I was impressed.
By the request and by the fact that they sang a song about a gypsy.
Two years ago, I went to a Club Lyfestile show. I woke up the next morning and sent twenty of my closest friends and family members an email. I wrote about traveling circuses and waxed mustaches. And I used the words potentially life changing.
A few minutes ago, I heard from the big sister of one of the Club Lyfestile frontmen.
Look at the tour dates below. Pick a time and place that works. Go. And dance.
And, while you're dancing, keep in mind that with that email I sent two years ago, I sent a video. Not of Club Lyfestile. But of a scene quite similar to this one...
I thought at the time that there was deep connection between Club Lyfestile and the All Blacks. Don't remember why. Let me know if you feel it. Once you've seen the show, of course.
And, the next night, when we set up amps and a drumkit and had our headliner-to-be lay down a practice set in advance of this year's music festival (Aug 15; get ready), there was dancing.
This morning, in an email, Nate, an uncle, responded to congratulations for representing his generation so well:
Dancing is a reflection of your inner self and where you would love to be at that moment. As for me, I employ a style known as Family Collage, which is simply a style combination of all my nieces and nephews on the dance floor at that moment.
I saw Martin Sexton live for the first time tonight.
When he finished singing this song, it didn't stop playing in my head, so I didn't stop dancing. The Beast In Me is track 1 on disc 1 of a recording from Burlington, VT in 2005. I couldn't find the album on the internets or at the concert. Apparently Lauren, who burned me the CD, has some very sweet hookups.
I'm pretty sure only one person in the history of the world has inspired hundreds of prisoners on the other side of the planet to put on an intricately choreographed dance performance. For themselves. And only accidentally for the rest of the world.
Hammertime is a reality series that focuses on the
Hammer family as they live their not-so-simple lives in Tracy,
California. Having a family and re-launching the Hammer empire is not
an easy task, but with wisdom, faith and a relentless tenacity to
strive through any adversity, this family is stronger than ever.
Re-launching the Hammer empire.
Certainly not an empire not know for its longevity. Nor for its creative breadth.
But an empire that ascended, like a meteor (if you look at it from the right angle), on the back of one of the most bad ass one trick ponies ever to gallop the twisted cliffs of showbiz. And, encouragingly for the Hammers, that pony still has spring in his step...
I had imagined going to an imaginary local bar down the street from my imaginary apartment in an imaginary city on the imaginary night on which the imaginary neighborhood DJ plays music I love and dancing like an imaginary lunatic.
But concerts are significantly different from mixed music for me. Impossible for me to dance completely alone at a concert. I'm always dancing with the band. Whether they know it or not. Which they almost definitely don't. Unless they're the kind of band that's always dancing with all the serious dancers in the crowd. Whether they can identify us or not. Which is the kind of band to be.
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