Monthly Archive for January, 2006

The Headhunters

Yesterday was not only my birthday, but it was the date of one of the best live shows I’ve seen in years.

At the Jewish Mother in Virginia Beach, The Headhunters funked their asses off. Before you ask, no, Herbie Hancock was not there– this was not the original lineup, only Mike Clark and Bill Summers were the only original Headhunters present. Normally, I would probably not step foot near a band claiming to be The Headhunters if Paul Jackson was not present. Instead, I happily dropped the 20 dollars down to see the man who had replaced Paul Jackson for this tour and on their latest album, who is one of my all time heroes; George Porter Jr. from The Meters. Sick!

George was incredible, way busier and a much stronger soloist than many who are only familiar with his Meters catalog might expect. George also led the group as a vocalist on a few tunes, including the Meters classic “Hey Pocky-A Way.” Hearing George’s approach to “Chameleon” was worth double the admission.

Mike Clark is a legend. Mike has one of the most recognizable drum styles ever. I had never seen him play in person, but I felt like I was listening to the records. He’s effortless and he gets this huge sound. Amazing. The same goes for Bill Summers; effortless, candid, and brilliant. I was shocked to discover how many of the sounds on the 70’s Headhunters’ records that I thought were concoctions of Herbie’s keyboards were in fact bizarre timbres created by non-descript percussion instruments in Bill Summer’s capable hands. His facility on the congas is jaw dropping. There are so many jackass wanna-be conga players in the jam band circle, and I’ve seen my share in Virginia Beach– usually backing up mediocre singer songwriters. I urge everyone who normally would walk out of a club as soon as they saw congas, to go and see more bands with real conga players. It’s a different experience all together.

Anyway, I had an awesome birthday. Kim and I drank coffee, watched some legendary performers, and talked smack about this stupid girl who seemed to be having convulsions while tirelessly dancing like a chicken on acid.

I can’t believe I forgot my camera.

Kim Made Me A Birthday Cake!!

It’s like a clipping from a 1964 issue of Filipino Woman Monthly. Just kidding, I don’t think that’s a real magazine. Kim says this cake might taste like poop, but if it tastes anywhere near as good as it looks, I’m sure it’s pretty amazing.

Birthday Cake

Whiskerino Retrospective

John Denver's Greatest HitsWhiskerino 2005 has nearly one month left, and I’m reflecting prematurely on the experience.

First of all, if anyone ever considers getting into any kind of guarded online community that involves daily self-photography, I highly endorse it. The simple act of taking a picture of myself every day has been extremely therapeutic in ways I can’t even describe. Unlike the Relative Theory dudes, who take piles and piles of pictures of themselves every day, I am not a good photographer, and even more, I do not like to look at myself. I’d say Whiskerino has helped me to become better at both disciplines. When you are forced to look at yourself you are forced to deal with yourself, I’d say both physically and mentally. I feel like since I’ve started Whiskerino I have been more self-observant and have begun to know myself better– in ways I cannot really annunciate. I’ve come to terms with my post-high school abstinence from fashion and I’ve recognized that dressing like a 17 year old kid didn’t work for me when I was 17, and it sure as shit doesn’t work now that I am 26. I’m going to make an attempt at not looking like hell anymore, so, pending the money to buy nicer clothes, I will start dressing better. ECPI’s dress code is also a motivating factor. Starting to go to the gym is a huge result of seeing how fucking fat I have become. I can’t stand it anymore. I need to make some changes. This might seem lame and self-absorbed, but I promise that I never put much thought into this kind of stuff, and it’s all very new to me to be concerned with my appearance to such a degree.

The actual Whiskerino experience has been fairly enjoyable. I’ve made some cool new friends with whom I have almost nothing in common except that we can all grow beards and crack jokes on each other. I hope that I can maintain contact with these guys in the future, but even if that doesn’t happen I am proud to have known them. I’ve also succeeded in pissing off a handful of strangers who, hopefully, don’t take anything I’ve said to heart. I’m really not that much of a jerk in real life, the internet is a crazy place and sometimes things get taken too seriously, or a cadence is missing in the written word that would be totally understood in person, or I went too far because I didn’t pick up on a signal to knock it off. At any rate, I’m not that good at backing down from a spat, and that doesn’t make matters any better. However, some of these guys take this thing way too seriously, and all I am ever trying to do with my dickhead comments is jolt people back to reality and say “Hey, it’s a beard contest! Get over yourself!”

Some of my Bearded Brothers are requesting my pressence at the Throwndown in February. I’m not really interested in driving out to Nashville (and burning the gas required to get there) just to see the four or five conestants I’m friendly with, so the lazy side of me says “nah.” However, those four or five new friends are pretty fucking awesome, and almost awesome enough to make the trip worth it. I’m considering it, Kim has made a hole in her schedule for the throwdown if we decide to go. We probably won’t decide until the last minute.

My beard itself has surprised even me. I am surprised at how red it is. I remember when my hair was the same color. I made an extra special attempt to not trim the beard for the duration of the contest, just to see what it looks like, but I did end up trimming the moustache once early on, I let it grow again and waited out the itch. The main annoyance has been that I have very dry skin, and “beard dandruff” is a new reality. I constantly lotion my shaven face throughout the day, and I make every effort to compensate my coffee habit with glasses of water. With the beard, however, this annoyance seems to be heightened. I actaually bought Neutrogena dandruff shampoo… to put on my face.